Ignoring Vittoria, the dwarf impatiently snatched the [White Wolf's Claw] from Aldric's hands. Fortunately, dwarves were classified as humanoid creatures; otherwise, he might not even have been able to lift it.
He examined the blade with great care. His rough, calloused fingers — hardened by decades of forging — gently traced along the sword's edge, inch by inch, as though he were caressing the most enchanting half-elf dancer in the city rather than a deadly weapon.
At this moment, the dwarf had lost his usual joking demeanor. His gaze became as steady and weighty as a stone, filled with concentration and solemn respect.
The process of forging a Witcher's weapon was notoriously intricate and complex, involving numerous materials and techniques unknown to outsiders. Every craftsman who had ever heard of these legendary weapons was consumed by curiosity about them — just as the dwarf was now.
Many years ago, the Witcher Orders monopolized the mines that produced Valyrian Steel, making the metal exceedingly rare to outsiders. Yet as a hub connecting the trade routes between the Old and New World, the dwarves had occasionally managed to get their hands on a few fragments.
Though the quantities were small, they had been more than enough to use as additives — and the results were astonishing. The metal components of Vittoria's flail, for example, were reforged with an alloy infused with this special material.
But for most of the world, the greatest secret of the Witchers' weapons lay not in the metal itself, it was in how they managed to infuse biological properties into their blades.
Among top-tier craftsmen, there were long-whispered legends about using dragon's blood to forge powerful gear. Dragons, as superior life forms, had highly active blood that naturally bonded with other materials.
The Witchers, however, had taken an entirely different path. They used the tissues of chaotic creatures and somehow forged weapons that possessed the exact opposite quality: anti-chaos effects. That paradox had baffled even the greatest metallurgists for generations.
Now, that very mystery rested in the dwarf's hands. His greedy eyes examined every inch of the sword from pommel to tip, from guard to blade carefully tracing each groove and contour as if trying to uncover the secret hidden within.
No one knew how long he spent in silent inspection. At last, the dwarf let out a long sigh, his enthusiasm deflating. He reluctantly handed the [White Wolf's Claw] back to Aldric, as though conceding defeat.
"What's wrong?" Aldric asked curiously.
The dwarf replied with a bitter smile. "Aside from being an excellent sword, I can't see anything special about it. No additional magical engravings, no runic etchings, no potion infusion, no embedded magic stones — nothing. It's forged using the most practical of refined steel techniques. Unless I destroy it to study the inside, there's no way to uncover its secrets. It's a pity… but not unexpected."
Still muttering to himself, the dwarf shuffled off toward his room, seemingly forgetting that there were still two guests standing in his shop.
"Don't mind him," Vittoria said casually, pulling a chair over and sitting down. "He was like this the last time I brought him my flail — give him a bit of time, he'll get over it. Anyway, Aldric, where's that land deed of yours? Let's take a look."
Aldric took the fief certificate that Antoine had given him from his spatial pouch and handed it over. "You mentioned something before — about founding a warband? You need this kind of thing for that?"
Vittoria unfolded the document and examined it. "Tsk, tsk… Antoine was really generous. Five hectares of land, and a castle to go with it! But the location's not great — about thirty kilometers east of Port Anthony, deep in the Black Forest. Still, congratulations, you're officially a lord now. You'll just have to develop it yourself, though. Ever since the last lord died of dysentery nearly ten years ago, no one's lived there."
Grinning mischievously, she handed the parchment back. "I remember a lieutenant from the local garrison who's been pulling strings all over town trying to get himself a fief — you know, since owning land is a requirement to form a warband. Want me to ask if he's interested in buying it off you?"
Aldric ignored her teasing. The fief itself didn't matter much to him anyway. Especially after teaming up with the Shadow Assassin, Colin, to rob Antoine's treasure vault, he already felt more than satisfied. As for establishing a warband, Aldric couldn't imagine when he'd ever gather the ten players required for the minimum formation.
He recalled what Vittoria had told him: around seven or eight players, led by Conrad Vasilevsky, had grouped up together. Nearly half of them were former EU military personnel who knew Conrad before entering the game. With their numbers, organization, and even a pair of EU engineers among them, they'd formed a solid team. One stray Southeast Auroran player had temporarily joined them as well. (TN: Aurora = Asia)
Aldric's own pioneer fleet, however, was an unplanned expedition. It was formed partly to maintain international balance, to prevent smaller nations from taking desperate measures, and to open up additional exploration routes. The five major powers had jointly assembled this fleet, primarily manned by personnel from non-permanent member states.
Even so, the technical staff, security forces, and command crew were all under the control of the five permanent powers, since they were the actual financiers and builders of the fleet. Officially, the mission was a cooperative project — a way for the five powers to share and verify technologies while maintaining diplomatic appearances.
Although the fleet carried 30,000 colonists, fewer than 2,000 crew members actually managed its operation. The rest were merely passengers kept in long-term stasis. Of those 2,000 active personnel, 1,500 came from the five powers — 300 each — leaving fewer than 500 internship slots for all the other nations combined.
What Aldric didn't know was that, inside the game world, most players had been born as descendants of early settlers in the Far South Colonies. They spawned directly in major cities or population centers.
Only a small number of players with a single attribute above 15 points were scattered randomly across the wilderness, each assigned an individual advancement quest to help them integrate naturally into the world.
Among the nearly two billion people screened for this project, the volunteers from Aldric's Loess Branch were among the best of the best — even compared to elite representatives from the five major powers. Most of his compatriots were still struggling to survive in the perilous wilds of the southern colonies, striving to complete their advancement missions.
A fortunate few, like Aldric, had already succeeded and entered civilized cities to begin their adventures. Others, less lucky, had perished during their first mission. Though their talents were exceptional, death forced them to wait eight real-world hours before respawning in the nearest city — at the cost of three points of Constitution and the permanent loss of the ability to change their background profession.
According to incomplete statistics, most of the engineers and researchers aboard the colonial fleet, those with high Intelligence — had failed their initial missions, consistent with the difficulty curve for advancing into the Spellcaster professions of this world.
(End of Chapter)