The cottage was on the edge of a small village called Ferndale, which was the kind of quiet, peaceful place Greg had always wanted to live in while he was making weapons for forty years. There were rolling hills as far as the eye could see, with small farms and animals grazing on them.
"Ferndale, huh... what a nice name for a village. Perfect to enjoy my peaceful life!"
Greg went outside, still getting used to his new body. He looked about twenty-five now, with the same scarred hands but a lot more energy than he remembered having in years.
He takes a deep breath with his new body, "Ahh~ the air smelled fresh, without the acrid smoke from forges or the metallic taste of blood."
And then the system screen followed him like a dog that wanted to play, always in the corner of his eye. Of course, it surprised him again for the second time.
[New Quest Available: Check Out Your New Home]
"God! Can you stop appearing in an instant like that!?"
[Reward: Basic Materials Pack]
"Alright, alright, I'll do your lousy quest." Greg said softly as he walked down the dirt path to the real village.
He thought Ferndale would be bigger. There were about thirty buildings, all grouped around a central square with a dry fountain. The houses were in good shape, but they looked old and worn. The first thing that caught Greg's eye was how dirty the tools were that he saw lying around.
A farmer had a hard time using a hoe that had been fixed so many times that the handle was mostly rope. Another villager had a bucket with three different patches sewn onto the bottom. The sign hanging over what appeared to be the village tavern was supported by only one rusty chain, as the other chain had completely broken off.
"Excuse me," Greg said to an old woman who was sweeping her doorstep with a broom that only had six bristles left.
"Is there a blacksmith in this town?"
The woman looked up, and her wrinkled face broke into a sad smile. "Not anymore, young man."
"Marcus died six months ago, and his apprentice ran away to the capital. He said that fixing farm tools wouldn't make any money." She pointed to her sad broom.
"As you can see, we're doing the best we can."
Greg felt something move in his chest. It wasn't really pity. It was more like understanding that these people needed help, and this time it had nothing to do with fighting monsters or winning wars.
"Where was his shop?" Greg asked.
The old woman pointed to a building that was falling apart at the edge of the square. "Right there, but it's been locked up."
"I don't think the village chief would just give the key to a stranger." She looked at him with suspicion.
"Are you a blacksmith?"
"Well, yeah, something like that," Greg said as he walked toward the building.
...
He thought the workshop was in better shape than it was. There were many holes in the roof, the forge was cold and full of old ash, and most of the tools had been stolen or rusted beyond use.
But the anvil was still good, strong iron that rang true when he hit it. It was possible to fix the bellows, but they needed it. He could handle this.
[Quest Complete: Check Out Your New Place]
[Reward: Basic Materials Pack received]
[New items in your inventory]
In a flash of light, a small pile of stuff appeared on the floor of the workshop. Iron ingots, coal, some wood for handles, and basic tools for blacksmithing. Not a lot, but enough to get going.
Greg pulled up his sleeves. "Okay, let's see if I can still do this."
He spent the next few hours cleaning out the forge and getting the fire going again. Even though he was younger, his hands moved in ways that were familiar to him. He had everything set up for work by the time the sun went down.
Greg said, "Now then," and he opened the system interface.
"Let's build that hoe."
"Hahaha... hoe"
[Crafting Mode is On]
[Choose item type: Hoe for farming]
[Materials you can use: 3 Iron Ingots and 1 Oak Wood]
[Estimated time to finish: 2 hours]
Greg didn't pay attention to the timer. He didn't need a system to tell him how long it took to make a hoe.
He heated the iron until it was a bright cherry red color, then he hit it with his hammer in a steady, rhythmic way. Make the head the right shape, bend the blade, and temper it the right way. Put in the handle socket and make sure it's secure.
Something strange happened while he worked. The metal acted in ways it never had before when he touched it. Every time he hit the iron with the hammer, it felt perfect, as if it wanted to become exactly what he saw in his mind. There were faint runes along the blade that glowed with a soft blue light.
"Wait, no," Greg said, his voice rising in alarm.
"It's just a hoe. You don't need runes, stop that!"
The metal didn't pay attention. The farming tool was almost humming with power by the time he put on the oak handle. It looked like a regular hoe, plain and useful, but Greg could feel the energy coming from it.
[Crafting Done!]
[Item Made: Hoe of Unbreaking]
[Quality Level: SSS]
[Special Properties: Can't be broken, tills soil 1000% better than anything else, and can move small amounts of earth]
[Achievement Unlocked: First SSS-Rank Item!]
[Bonus: 5 Skill Points and the title "The Ridiculous Craftsman"]
Greg looked at the notifications in shock. "SSS-rank? It's a hoe for farming! How is it SSS-rank?"
[The system checks items for quality, durability, and magical properties, no matter what type they are]
[Great job on your work!]
"I would rather not be congratulated!"
"I wanted a regular hoe!" Greg picked up the tool and immediately felt its power flow through his hands.
"This is exactly what I wanted to avoid."
He heard people talking outside. The light from his forge had drawn people together. The village chief, a big man with a massive mustache, pushed his way to the front.
The chief asked, "Who are you?"
"This workshop belongs to the village. You can't just break in and start using it."
"I'm Greg," he said plainly, still holding the hoe that was glowing. "I worked as a blacksmith in my previous village."
"I saw you needed one, so I thought I'd help."
The chief's eyes were fixed on the hoe, and his jaw dropped. It was clear that the tool was good quality even from a distance. The hoe caught the last rays of sunlight, displayed perfect balance, and showcased the soft glow of its runes.
"Is that..." the chief stammered. "Did you just do that?"
"Oh, this? It's only a hoe, nothing much." Greg said weakly.
"Just a hoe?" An old farmer pushed on, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Young man, I've been a farmer for fifty years. I've never seen a tool like that before.
"Can I try it?" The old farmer wanted to touch that masterpiece of a hoe.
Greg thought about it for a moment before giving it to him. As soon as the farmer's weathered hands touched the handle, his face changed to one of pure awe.
The farmer whispered, "It's perfect."
"The way it feels, the weight, and the balance. This is a wonderful work of art." He looked at Greg with a kind of awe.
"You must be a blacksmith sent by the gods."
"No, no, definitely not," Greg said right away, remembering what the gods had said to him recently.
"I'm just your friendly neighborhood blacksmith who happens to be good at what he does." Gred said that, like some heroes would.
After that, the farmer walked over to a patch of hard, rocky ground that no one had been able to farm. He lifted the hoe and then brought it down once. The rocky ground turned into dark, well-tilled soil in a circle ten feet wide, and the earth seemed to sigh. A few villagers stumbled as small tremors spread outward.
Everyone stopped talking. Then they started to cheer.
"An act of God!" someone yelled.
Another voice said, "The gods have sent us a master craftsman!"
"We're saved!" the old woman with the broken broom shouted, her face wet with tears.
Greg wanted to go down into the ground. This wasn't how he had planned to start his new, peaceful life. He had only made one simple farming tool, but people were already treating him like a godsend.
The chief of the village shook Greg's hand hard. "Master Blacksmith Greg, I officially give you full use of this workshop on behalf of Ferndale."
"Tell me how much you want for tools. We'll give you whatever you need."
Greg said, "I don't want to be paid."
"I just want to make things that are useful in peace."
"Helpful?" The chief pointed to the hoe, which was still glowing a little.
"That tool just fixed a problem we've had for three years! You could make a lot of money off of something like that."
Greg said again, "It's a hoe," but he was starting to doubt what he had said.
"It should break up the soil. That's what it does."
[New Quest: Build Your Reputation]
[Goal: Make five farming tools for the people of Ferndale]
[Reward: Upgrade to the workshop, 100 reputation points]
Greg's resolve began to waver as he looked at the crowd of hopeful faces, broken tools, and desperate eyes. He didn't want to be famous; instead, he wanted to create lasting things and live a quiet life doing ordinary activities. But it seems that his idea and his system of normal were very different.
"Okay," Greg said with a sigh. "I'll make you some tools."
"But I'm telling you now that I only make things that are peaceful. This means that I will not create weapons, armor, or any tools intended for war.
"We're farmers," the old farmer said, holding on to the magical hoe as if it were his firstborn child.
"We don't need weapons. Just give us tools that won't break after a month, and you'll be the hero of Ferndale."
Greg nodded slowly, already afraid of what would happen when he made a simple shovel or rake. What would happen to everything else he made if a hoe came out as SSS-rank?
He said, "This is going to be a disaster."
[The gods are watching with interest]
[Your peaceful life is off to a wonderful start!]
Greg stared angrily at the system message. He was sure that those three gods were making fun of him.
"Fuck off."