Genius Blacksmith's Game

The world’s very first virtual reality game, Ares, was loved by over 2.5 billion people across the globe.

An interview was underway with Lee Sejin, the CEO of Pureum Co., Ltd., the company behind Ares.

A man hailed as the god of gaming.

The richest person on Earth.

The genius—Lee Sejin.

‘I knew that question would come up sooner or later.’

Lee Sejin thought to himself as flashes went off and questions poured in.

As expected—

“It’s been a year since Ares officially launched. The special event you introduced at launch—the ‘Break the Wooden Dummy in 10 Hits’ challenge—still hasn’t been cleared by anyone.”

On the day Ares launched, a shocking event announcement appeared.

It stated that if a player could destroy a wooden dummy in the beginner’s zone with just ten strikes, they would receive a special reward.

“Since the reward was said to be an Ares VVIP Capsule worth fifty million won, along with a +5 boost to all stats, every single one of the 2.5 billion players tried it.”

Even those who didn’t want to try had no choice but to.

When a player starts the game, they first appear in one of hundreds of beginner zones.

The first thing anyone does there is learn how to attack—

In other words, hit the wooden dummy.

All 2.5 billion players had attempted it—and every one of them had failed.

Even though the challenge could be retried after a short cooldown period.

“There still hasn’t been a single success. When do you think someone will finally pull it off?”

Everyone was curious.

Who would be the one to break the wooden dummy?

Even Olympic gold medalists in archery and kendo, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ and MMA champions, had tried and failed.

“I believe someone will succeed very soon,”

Lee Sejin replied, though even as he said it, he wasn’t so sure himself.

Pureum needed something to ignite players’ passion—and this event had done exactly that.

The result was a massive success.

When the event first launched, so many players logged in at once to try it that the servers nearly crashed.

‘There’s no way I can just hand out a VVIP capsule and +5 to all stats that easily.’

Starting the game with +5 to every stat was utterly absurd.

A level 1 player’s base stats were all set to 5.

That meant, if successful, the player would begin with 10 in every stat instead.

And even more interesting—

When that player reached level 10, they’d still have 5 more points in every stat than anyone else.

Same at level 100. Same at level 500.

A permanent early-game advantage.

‘A +5 boost at the start is no small thing.’

There were many reasons why the challenge was nearly impossible.

In the beginner’s zone, you couldn’t level up, couldn’t change classes, and couldn’t obtain skills.

In short—it was practically impossible to break the dummy there.

“That’s the same answer you always give,”

One reporter said provocatively.

Lee Sejin smiled faintly.

“The world is vast, and there are many geniuses out there. So, very soon—”

Just then—

“What? A world message!?”

A reporter who had just picked up a phone gasped in shock.

A world message.

A message that was broadcast to every player in the game—

It only appeared when someone achieved something no one else ever had.

All eyes turned to the reporter.

And then—

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!

Riiiing—Riiiing—!

“Hyung-nim! You’ve got a call!”

Phones began ringing off the hook throughout the press room.

“...Someone broke the wooden dummy!?”

“You’re saying a world message popped up saying it’s been broken!?”

“Holy shit!”

“That’s— that’s a scoop!”

“It’s finally been cleared after a whole year!?”

In an instant—every reporter’s gaze turned toward Lee Sejin.

He maintained a calm expression.

“If that’s true, I suppose we’ll have to prepare to deliver the VVIP capsule to that player. Hahaha.”

He laughed leisurely—but his mind wasn’t calm at all.

The room quickly descended into chaos as reporters received confirmation calls.

Lee Sejin wrapped up the press conference as smoothly as possible and headed backstage.

“P-President!”

Employees came rushing toward him.

One of them had already brought up a live feed on a monitor—

He was the Team Leader of the Special User Management Division.

“Is it true? Someone actually broke the wooden dummy in ten hits?”

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.”

“Play the replay.”

Click.

The monitor flickered to life.

“Maybe I’ll pull it off this time.”

The player on-screen was a fairly handsome young man.

Lee Sejin immediately noticed something strange.

“What’s that weapon? He broke it using that?”

The man on-screen held a sword with a dangerously sharp edge.

“I’ve never heard of a weapon like that existing in the beginner’s zone.”

On rare occasions, special players received artifacts from NPCs and attempted the challenge that way—

But even those couldn’t break the dummy in ten hits.

So what was this?

It was a completely unfamiliar weapon.

The young man began striking the dummy.

Thud! Thud! THUD!

Heavy impacts echoed through the waiting room.

By the eighth strike, the wooden dummy shattered.

Lee Sejin’s eyes widened.

“No way...!”

He turned toward the Special User Management team leader.

That team constantly monitored player behavior—they would know exactly what this user had done.

“It’s exactly what you’re thinking, sir.”

“You’re saying he forged that sword himself? What’s its grade?”

“Epic.”

“...What?”

Lee Sejin’s face froze in disbelief.

“What are you talking about? He’s level 1—he hasn’t even classed up. How the hell could a level 1 make an Epic-grade sword?”

But the team leader’s expression remained steady.

“According to our monitoring data, the player definitely crafted it himself.”

As mentioned, players’ real-world talents heavily influenced their abilities in the beginner’s zone.

An archer excelled with bows, a kendo expert with swords, a judoka with throws.

Lee Sejin suddenly remembered an old conversation with the development team when they were designing the blacksmith class.

“Finding a proper blacksmith consultant is the hardest part. There are fewer than ten true blacksmiths left in the world.”

“Isn’t there that famous one—Smith?”

“Yes, but even he said he’s embarrassed to call himself a blacksmith.”

“Embarrassed? Why?”

“Because his techniques are all mechanized. There isn’t a single person left who does it entirely by hand, start to finish.”

“Hmm...”

“There was one master craftsman in Korea who still forged everything by hand...”

“Was?”

“He’s in a vegetative state. Smith said he was the greatest blacksmith he’d ever seen.”

“That’s unfortunate... We’ll just have to make do with what we can from old records and consultant advice.”

As Lee Sejin snapped out of his thoughts, his gaze returned to the monitor.

“I wonder when my capsule will arrive.”

The young man was humming to himself with a carefree smile.

Lee Sejin couldn’t comprehend it.

There had been only one true master craftsman in the world—and he was in a coma.

‘Then who... exactly is that player?’

Lee Sejin couldn’t take his eyes off the mysterious user.