Absolute Craft

Chapter 22: Leveling Up (2)

Once Sol happily devoured an entire armor set—from the headgear to the sabatons—he whined softly, asking for a lift back to his nest atop Blake's head. Still stunned that Sol could eat something so much larger than himself, Blake carefully scooped him into his palm and placed him on his head.

Sol closed his golden eyes and dozed off. His little lips parted slightly as he leaned to one side, covering himself with Blake's hair.

"Who knew the Sun slept?" Blake whispered, listening to Sol's gentle breathing.

Opening his game system with a mere thought, Blake equipped his items one by one, adopting the appearance of the dark demon. He stopped at the headpiece, aware that placing Sol onto cold metal would be an abrupt shift that might wake him.

Blake felt awkward—he'd never had a familiar or even a pet before. He hadn't realized how softhearted he could be. Still, he wondered if the blizzard outside would wake Sol anyway.

He rolled his eyes upward, thinking it through. After a few moments, he decided to leave Sol where he was. Yet it wasn't as simple as it sounded: Sol seemed anchored to his head, refusing to budge. It felt more like the little apple was clinging to him like something alien.

Left with no choice, Blake donned his helmet carefully, waiting a few seconds to see if Sol stirred. Then he turned the knob on the smithy's doors and stepped out into the blizzard. His tiny companion didn't even blink as snow fell around him.

The blizzard also affected Blake less now that he wore his full armor set. None of the cold-related debuffs from his first day here bothered him anymore. Moments later, Sol's warmth spread over him like a cozy bubble, melting the snowflakes. Beatrix had no reason to worry, hidden away in her master's shadow.

With everything under control, Blake made his way down the mountain, using the same path his dwarven friend had once taken, though the snow had long since buried any footprints.

–

Battling common monsters had never been Blake's preference. Their movements were usually predictable, and they lacked real intelligence—unlike players or special monsters that adapted to an opponent's skills and environment.

Higher-ranked monsters, however, often displayed complex behavior beyond their typical patterns, so exploring the world always excited him. There could be something dangerous lurking, guarding valuable treasure, or an uncharted area with precious info leading to side quests or main lore—inevitably culminating in challenging fights that tested his wits.

"You look like a common mob," Blake whispered, eyeing a white lynx whose fur shifted in an avalanche-like pattern.

He'd left the main road and ventured into a snowbound white forest. It didn't take long to encounter his first monster; the lynx crept past a tree and, by misfortune, found the dark demon in its path. They regarded each other warily.

'A single clean cut with Crescent Pride, followed by a thrust to the neck, should do,' Blake thought.

Although he didn't have a specific critical-hit stat, he knew well-placed strikes on vulnerable spots could trigger crits. 'If I miss somehow, the bleeding should finish it,' he added. Bleeding occurred naturally in both worlds; the severity of a wound determined how quickly HP bled away.

Confident in his Crescent Pride skill and technique, Blake dashed forward using Prideful Step, slicing through the lynx's exposed side and appearing behind it. Anticipating the next moment, he thrust his katana before the monster could react. The blade slid into its neck as though slicing butter.

Blake's black eyes gleamed. He surrendered to a wave of battle lust—after so long without combat, even a mundane monster now thrilled him. He let out a wild roar, his voice echoing through the white forest, provoking more lynxes to charge in from every direction.

A scene reminiscent of the gatekeepers' hall unfolded, but this time among the snowy trees. Fortunately for Blake, his only witness was Beatrix.

–

Blake's stamina had dropped dangerously low, despite having reached level three. He needed to conserve some energy to get out of the white forest without dying like a beginner. Leaning against a tree, he watched Beatrix emerge from his shadow. She stared at him—or so he assumed—through the visor of her featureless mask. She wore it because they were in hostile territory.

"…ah, damn," Blake muttered, realizing his mistake. He'd come here to gather food for forging, wanting to avoid the penalties of hunger. Instead, he'd indulged his battle lust, showing the maniacal side he could never fully suppress.

"My inventory expanded after I leveled up," he said, deliberately opening his game system, hoping for some meat. Sure enough, he'd gained five chunks of raw meat. Just seeing them made his mouth water.

"I should've gone for the butcher title. I'd have gotten way more meat." Blake felt like facepalming over the missed opportunity. Monsters turned into particles in the hands of players (unlike with NPCs), producing random loot. Money was guaranteed, while items or resources fell under a different, rarer category. Materials like meat, bones, or blood ranked between the two—more likely than items, but still not as certain as money. Earning a simple title like Butcher would have improved those drops. He could have skinned or carved up a single lynx several times to get the title, but he'd been too caught up in his killing spree.

"I also should have let you show off, Beatrix, so I could gauge our teamwork… Instead, I just fought like a madman… My old habits are resurfacing. Thanks for the reminder."

Standing still as a statue, Beatrix sank back into his shadow. She'd emerged only to watch her master, inadvertently helping him realize his oversight—an outcome that left her feeling awkward, too. Meanwhile, Sol kept napping like a baby.