The heavy wooden door of the weapons and equipment shop swung open with a low groan, a worn-out brass bell jingling overhead to announce their arrival.
A wave of smells rolled over Yukio the moment he stepped inside, oiled leather, cold steel, faint ash, and the copper tang of a forge that never truly cooled. His nose wrinkled. Compared to the lively bustle of the guild hall, this shop carried a weighty quiet, the kind reserved for places where every strike of a hammer meant life or death.
Everywhere he looked, the shop was a cathedral to war. Gleaming longswords hung in neat rows, their polished blades catching light from broad windows and scattering it like tiny suns. Broad, kite-shaped shields leaned in orderly ranks, some plain steel, others painted with noble crests or animal insignias. Armor sets—chainmail, scale, and half-plate—stood upright on wooden mannequins like silent soldiers waiting to be called into battle.
The craftsmanship was unlike anything Yukio had seen in either world. This wasn't mass production or cosplay props, every groove and edge carried the handprint of necessity. In this world, a dull blade didn't just disappoint a collector; it killed you.
Whoa…"
Yukio muttered under his breath, his eyes sweeping across racks of gleaming longswords, axes, and spears. Each blade seemed to catch and bend the sunlight streaming through the large windows. Shields lined the far wall, some plain and steel-bound, others adorned with crests or intricate etchings that glimmered faintly with enchantment.
Michibiki gave him a sidelong glance, her expression calm as always, though a faint curve tugged at the corner of her lips.
"You look like a kid in a candy store."
"Correction,"
Yukio shot back.
"I look like a broke kid in a candy store."
She chuckled softly, the sound like silver bells.
At the corner of the shop, hunched over a workbench cluttered with half-finished hilts and hammers worn smooth by years of use, sat the man who clearly owned the place. His shoulders were broad despite his age, his back straight even as he worked. A simple leather apron covered his soot-streaked clothes, and his gray hair was tied back with a strap of hide.
He didn't glance up at first. His hands moved with the slow rhythm of long practice, hammering gently at a half-formed guard. Finally, his voice broke the silence—low, gravelly, but not unkind.
"Afternoon. What can I do for you two?"
"We're looking for equipment,"
Yukio said, stepping forward with as much confidence as he could fake.
"We're new adventurers."
The blacksmith finally lifted his gaze. His eyes were a pale, piercing blue, sharp as if they could measure a person's worth on sight alone. He swept his gaze over Yukio, still in clothes that looked more fit for a high school classroom than a battlefield, then to Michibiki's silks, which shimmered faintly in the light.
A small smile tugged at his mouth, part amusement, part pity.
"New adventurers, you say? You're dressed for a ballroom, not adventuring. No armor. Not even a half-decent dagger between the two of you."
Yukio coughed, cheeks coloring faintly.
"Well… yeah, but I figured my winning smile would carry us through?"
The man grunted.
"The monsters won't be impressed."
Before Yukio could retort, the bell above the door chimed again. Another adventurer entered, a scarred man hefting a massive great axe. He ignored them completely, heading straight to another counter, clearly familiar with the place.
The smith finally set his hammer down with a dull thud. He wiped his hands on his apron, then gestured.
"Come on back. You'll need more than weapons, you'll need the right weapons. And a little advice won't cost you extra."
They followed. Up close, the man looked even larger, his hands broad and scarred, each finger thick as if he could crush iron with his grip. He leaned against the counter.
"Tharos Ebonforge,"
He introduced himself.
"This is my shop. So… rookies. Hunting slimes, I presume?"
Michibiki stepped forward, all serene composure. Her silks flowed like water with her every movement.
"We'll need light armor, two daggers, and a longsword for Yukio. As for me, mage robes will suffice. We've heard you do some of the finest work in town."
Tharos raised a brow. Compliments rolled off him like rain on steel, but a spark of pride flickered in his pale eyes. Without a word, he vanished into the back room. His heavy boots echoed like drums. A few moments later, he returned with an assortment of items and laid them out on the counter with reverent care.
For Yukio: A pair of twin daggers, their hilts jade-green, the blades silver so polished they reflected his awed face.A longsword, longer than any practice blade he'd ever swung, its silver-steel edge rippled faintly with electric blue veins that hummed with subtle energy.
A set of light leather armor, dyed white with bold red trims, shaped to balance protection and mobility.
For Michibiki:A robe of midnight black, its hem embroidered with faintly glowing purple runes. Power seemed to whisper through the fabric as if the garment itself held a breath.
"This is high-grade work,"
Tharos said, arms crossed.
"Normally reserved for seasoned adventurers. But… word travels fast."
His eyes narrowed knowingly.
"A Prodigy and an All-Elementalist. Not often we see that."
Yukio blinked in surprise.
"Wait, how the hell do you know already?"
Tharos chuckled low.
"Emera sent word ahead. She doesn't keep secrets when it comes to promising rookies."
Yukio groaned.
"Great. Just what I needed, to have a reputation before I've even killed a slime."
Michibiki smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
Tharos's expression turned hard, suddenly stern.
"Monsters are monsters. Don't underestimate them. Slimes aren't toys—they dissolve steel. Melt your shiny new gear to nothing in minutes if you're careless."
The words sobered Yukio instantly. He nodded, taking the weapons with a respectful bow. The armor fit snugly, the weight familiar in a strange, comforting way. He glanced at a polished shield on the wall, catching sight of his reflection. For a moment, he didn't see himself. He saw a hero. His lips curved in a grin.
"I look like a proper RPG protagonist,"
He murmured proudly.
"You look like a kid playing dress-up,"
Michibiki corrected sweetly.
He shot her a flat look.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
That'll be 150 gold,"
Tharos finished simply.
Michibiki pulled a pouch from her spatial storage and set the coins down. With their thanks given, they left the shop.
---
The midday sun spilled golden warmth across their path as they left town, past the farmlands and onto a dirt road leading toward the Whispering Woods. Birds trilled overhead, and the air smelled faintly of wheat and pine.
For a moment, Yukio let the peaceful world lull him. Then, as the trees thinned into a rolling field, he saw them.
Slimes.
A half-dozen of them, translucent and wobbling, oozed slowly across the plain. Everything they touched—grass, shrubs, even soil—bubbled and turned gray. The faint hiss of dissolving matter filled the air.
Michibiki's voice was calm, but edged with warning.
"Slimes are deceptively dangerous. Their acid can melt steel in minutes. Keep your distance, and if they get too close. Evade. Understand?"
Yukio's throat went dry. He nodded.
Michibiki gestured toward him.
"Summon your system window. See what you're working with."
Right. He remembered. Yukio took a deep breath, focused, and thought the words.
"Summon System."
A glowing blue panel shimmered into existence.
---
Name: Yukio Yoshino
Class: N/A
Level: 1
Strength: 15
Defense: 10
Ability: 20
Vitality: 10
Mana: ???
Luck: ???
Intelligence: 40
Spirit: 60
Unique Skill: Wheel of Providence
---
Yukio's brows drew together.
"Wheel of Providence, huh…"
The question marks taunted him. Luck, especially. A gambler without luck was nothing.
He looked up at the advancing slimes, his grip tightening on the hilt of his new longsword. His stomach churned, but a spark of excitement shot through his nerves. This was it. His first fight in this new world.
Yukio grimaced.
"Not exactly heroic numbers."
"Alright,"
He muttered.
"Let's see if fate's on my side."
Beside him, Michibiki adjusted her robe, her silver hair catching sunlight.
"Try not to embarrass yourself, Yukio."
The first slime lurched toward them with a wet, sickly glorp. The hunt had begun.