He didn't show it on his face, but Eric was excited.
"You know," he said dryly, "I think I could grab a random stick off the road and it'd be more useful than this junk."
He stared at the pile of worn-out gear on the ground with visible discomfort.
William scratched his head, clearly struggling to defend his so-called merchandise. After a moment, he picked up a rusted sword and swung it a few times, striking a pose. "Come on, sir! They're not entirely useless, right?"
To his surprise, Eric actually raised an eyebrow—not at William's shamelessness, but because those sword swings, while flashy, showed hints of actual technique. It wasn't just flailing.
"Hmm," Eric muttered. "Not bad. You've got a bit of skill."
William perked up. "Told you! You'll find these useful, I promise."
"You sound awfully confident."
"Merchant's intuition, sir," William said with a grin that was equal parts hopeful and desperate.
Eric chuckled inwardly. Interesting. This world really does have some curious characters. Like wizards, for example...
Not all people with strange powers were official spellcasters. Some talents were scattered across the land, hiding in plain sight.
Suddenly, William's eyes widened. A small, finely crafted trinket had appeared in Eric's hand as if summoned from thin air. It was the smallest and most inconspicuous item from his stash of looted treasures.
"I'm not carrying much cash," Eric said casually. "Will this do?"
Hiss— William squinted at it suspiciously. That thing didn't look ordinary at all.
"You're... offering this as payment for the gear?" he asked cautiously. "I mean, sure, it's more than enough."
William took the ornament gingerly, his pupils dilating as he examined it more closely.
This wasn't some simple bauble. It was an antique—one of the rare kinds, nearly impossible to dig up these days. The kind of item powerful people would pay handsomely for.
Nice... it's small, but valuable. Definitely a profit.
...Wait a minute.
William stared harder at the object in his palm. The design—it was familiar. Too familiar.
No way...
He snapped his head up and stared at Eric, a creeping realization dawning on him.
He's killed those things. He's taken this from one of them!
Undead. Not just any undead either—elite-class.
Holy hell. Those things aren't something regular folks can even touch, let alone rob.
But Eric didn't look cursed or poisoned. If anything, he seemed perfectly fine—calm, even. That could only mean one thing: for him, killing an elite undead was easy.
William's face stiffened. Damn it. I've run into a serious player.
Eric, meanwhile, paid no attention to William's inner turmoil. He could tell from the reaction that the trinket was more than enough to buy out this mountain of "gear."
"Pack all this up," he instructed.
Bundled junk counted as a single inventory item. Saved space. Efficient.
Still dazed, William nodded repeatedly and began tying the broken gear together with string.
Some time later, Eric surveyed the tidy row of "salvaged supplies" in his inventory and gave a satisfied nod.
William, for his part, didn't question where all the junk had gone.
After all, someone who could kill elite undead probably had all sorts of mysterious tricks. Seemed perfectly reasonable.
With everything settled, Eric was ready to leave and find a good spot to craft a Reverse Smelter.
The problem? It needed an iron ingot. And he didn't have any iron.
But no matter—he could burn some junk in a standard furnace to get it. Barely. It was inefficient as hell—one iron sword melted down only yielded a single iron nugget. Total scam.
But the Reverse Smelter? Now that was a game-changer. It could refine one to two full ingots per piece of junk.
Eric had mentally prepared himself to sacrifice half the junk for a handful of nuggets. Who would've thought that collecting garbage would unlock a Reverse Smelter?
Now that's what I call a surprise upgrade.
Just as he was about to head out, William stopped him.
"Wait a second, sir."
He jogged up and pulled out a cloth-wrapped item from his belt.
"For you."
Eric took it, unwrapping it to reveal a well-made dagger.
[Iron Dagger – Attack +3, Attack Speed +50%]
Special Trait: Sharpness – +1 Attack
New Recipe Unlocked: Dagger-type Weapons
"Oh?" Eric said, eyes narrowing. "How much for it?"
"It's free."
Eric arched a brow.
William spoke with unusual seriousness. "I'd like it to serve as a token of friendship."
"You want to be friends?" Eric said, amused.
"Yes."
Eric didn't respond directly. "Nice dagger. I'll take it."
He had no intention of offering friendship just because of a knife. Still, the guy had helped unlock a new crafting recipe. Maybe if William ever needed a minor favor, he'd consider lending a hand.
William, sensing the answer he wasn't given, didn't push. He simply smiled.
A junk dealer didn't need money to stay afloat. What he needed was a sharp eye.
And this man... this man was worth noticing.
Eric didn't linger in the town of Bree. After stocking up on food at the inn, he headed east.
Wearing simple clothes with no obvious weapon in sight, he calmly walked out through the eastern gate.
Just as he exited, several unkempt, bearded thugs emerged from an alley near the gate. They exchanged meaningful glances. No words were needed.
Prime target.
Just as they were about to act, a hand landed on one of their shoulders.
The man turned, already knowing who it was. "William? You want a cut too?"
"No," William replied, still in the shadows. "Just thought I'd warn you—don't touch him. He's not someone you want to mess with."
The group fell silent.
As long-surviving scumbags, they all had their own survival instincts.
They dispersed quietly and went home.
Junk dealers were never popular. They were too vague, too unpredictable.
Leaving Bree behind, Eric found a secluded spot and set to work.
He pulled out his crafting table and furnace and patiently burned scrap until he had nine iron nuggets—enough to craft one iron ingot.
Then he built the Reverse Smelter.
With it, he tossed in charcoal and more junk. The magic began.
The very first piece of battered armor yielded three full ingots.
Eric grinned. He wouldn't be running short on iron anytime soon.
He quickly built three more Reverse Smelters.
By the time he finished smelting every scrap of bundled junk, half a day had passed.
His backpack now held thirteen iron ingots.
He immediately crafted a full set of iron armor, iron tools, and a wooden shield.
Then he checked out the newly unlocked dagger recipe: one stick plus one ingot = iron dagger.
Same stats: +3 attack, +50% speed, but without the Sharpness trait.
Still, it was a solid weapon.
Eventually, he'd craft an enchanting table and slap Sharpness V on it. Now that would be satisfying.
He also wondered: could enchantments stack with special traits? If so, that opened up a whole new field of experimentation…
Once he equipped the iron gear, Eric felt a slight weight on his body—but it didn't hinder his movements in the slightest.
[Achievement Unlocked: Locked and Loaded]
His armor looked nothing like the blocky, clunky stuff from games. This was sleek—gleaming silver-white, smooth and elegant, yet clearly built for protection.
His iron sword resembled a refined longsword—thin, strong, and sharp.
He slipped on the wooden shield with his left hand. Suddenly, he felt a whole lot safer.
Of course, there was no need to wear it constantly. Walking around in full iron would draw too much attention. Thankfully, gear made at the crafting table could be equipped instantly when needed.
Once everything was ready, he cleaned up the area, leaving no trace, and continued eastward.
One day later.
Eric had passed the last known inn on the edge of the wilderness and now stood at the border beyond Bree.
From this point on, there would be no more people—only endless wildlands.
And the occasional troublemaker.
"Alright," Eric called out. "You can come out now."
Silence.
He sighed, annoyed.
The feeling of being watched had lingered for days. He'd first noticed it while buying from William. At first, he thought it was just some local thugs curious about a stranger.
But even after reaching the last inn, the sensation hadn't gone away.
That's not curiosity. That's targeting.
He hadn't done anything back in Bree. There were still laws, after all. Even thugs had some boundaries in civilized areas.
But now?
Now he was outside the lines. Out here, there were no rules.
And it was open season.
Shhhh—
The bushes rustled behind him.