The Second Life of Adam Cosmos

It took Adam over sixteen hours to locate the right path. After growing weary of the countless loops and dead ends, he decided it was time for a new approach. His patience had thinned, and his frustration with the maze had peaked. He had relied too heavily on memory and instinct, hoping they would guide him through the labyrinth. Instead, they had led him in circles.

Adam exited the maze, shifting his focus. Rather than continue blindly, he returned to hunting the undead and necromancers scattered across the catacombs. His combat prowess allowed him to gather enough essence to level up, and after some consideration, he chose to enhance his Perception attribute. Five points went directly into Perception, raising it to a total of fifteen—enough to significantly heighten his senses.

At Perception level fifteen, Adam's sensory abilities were now on par with a novice scout utilizing a scanning skill, but for him, it was entirely natural. This keen awareness wasn’t the result of skill but rather the innate capabilities of his newly enhanced state. His eyes picked up the faintest shifts in light and shadow, his ears caught the subtlest of sounds, and even his sense of smell seemed sharper, allowing him to detect the stale decay of the catacombs with greater precision.

Few players would invest so heavily in Perception. It was typically an attribute prized only by scouts, hunters, or those whose classes demanded an acute awareness of their surroundings. For others, including Adam, the cost-to-benefit ratio didn’t usually justify such a steep investment. If not for an elixir he had stumbled upon—a rare potion that temporarily boosted his Perception by three points—he would never have considered leveling it this far. In fact, the elixir’s effect had been so significant that he would have felt it wasteful to spend his valuable points on Perception without it.

But, as it turned out, his decision was not without merit. While scouring the catacombs for enemies, he came across several valuable items. One such find was a few more pages of the Voynich Scriptures, a rare and cryptic collection that would become highly sought after much later on. He now possessed three sets of Voynich pages, all in varying stages of completion. The first set had come from the five necromancers he had previously defeated, while the rest were scattered throughout the deeper levels of the catacombs. It was a productive hunt, even though the elusive path he sought still evaded him.

After leveling up and taking a brief break to eat, Adam logged back in, ready to continue his search. He noticed that the items he had placed in the Mercury Auction still had a few hours left before they were due to sell, so he decided to leave that matter for later. For now, his focus was singular—find the path.

He wandered for several more hours before his sharpened senses finally paid off. He heard it—a sound, faint but unmistakable.

Clang!

The distinct ring of metal being struck.

Clang! Clang!

The rhythmic beat of a hammer against steel.

Adam immediately halted his steps, his senses now tuned to the sound. He had stopped trying to follow the path he vaguely recalled from the NewTube video. That approach had led to nothing but frustration. Instead, he let the sounds guide him.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each strike grew louder as he closed the distance, the metallic resonance reverberating through the winding halls of the catacombs.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

“I should have done this from the beginning…” Adam muttered, irritated with himself. “I wasted hours trying to remember the route.”

But he knew why he had endured such a long and difficult search. It wasn’t just any blacksmith he was after—it was an undead blacksmith.

In Adam’s previous life, an independent team of adventurers had stumbled upon the undead blacksmith entirely by accident. Mistaking the entity for a mindless monster, they foolishly attacked it. The results were catastrophic. The party was wiped out in mere seconds, their efforts utterly futile. Not a single point of damage had been dealt.

However, what intrigued those who witnessed the fight was not the speed at which the party was obliterated but the large array of weapons and armor littered around the area. Many assumed it was a hidden boss guarding a cache of rare items, sparking a frenzied race to locate the blacksmith once more.

Despite many losing themselves in the maze, another team eventually found the undead. This time, however, they tried a different approach. Rather than attacking, they attempted to communicate. It was then that the true nature of the blacksmith was revealed—he wasn’t a monster guarding treasure but a master craftsman offering his goods in exchange for essence.

The weapons and armor he created were of exceptional quality but made from common materials and lacked significant enchantments. By the time most players reached him, they were already high enough in level that the weapons were more of a novelty than a necessity.

Yet despite the seemingly ordinary nature of his wares, some adventurers still sought to take them by force. They learned quickly, however, that this was a grave mistake. The blacksmith was not one to be trifled with.

A high-ranking level 150 scout once attempted to scan the blacksmith, only to come up empty-handed. His scan returned no data other than a single piece of information.

Name: Blacksmith Grandmaster Vetius.

Level: ???

This alone was enough to send waves through the community. The fact that his level was unknown meant he was at least level 400, possibly even higher. At the time, reaching level 200 was an accomplishment in itself, making Vetius an unfathomably powerful entity.

The reason for this estimate was simple: Vetius had effortlessly dispatched a party of professional gamers, all near level 150, despite being a production-class entity. That level of power spoke volumes about the gulf between the undead blacksmith and even the most seasoned players.

From that point on, those who sought out Vetius did so with one purpose—to trade, not to fight. His reputation as an untouchable master craftsman was solidified, and the foolish few who tried to challenge him quickly met the same fate as the original party.

Now, Adam was nearing the source of the sound. He knew what lay ahead—Blacksmith Grandmaster Vetius.

***

Not long after Adam caught the faint sound of a hammer clanging against metal, he finally arrived at the place he had been searching for—the workplace of the elusive blacksmith. The dim glow of the forge barely illuminated the figure in front of him, a skeletal being deeply engrossed in its craft.

Adam, remembering the mistakes of others in his previous life, knew that approaching the blacksmith with anything other than extreme caution could spell disaster. He had seen what happened to those who had been reckless, and he was determined not to repeat their errors. Before making his presence known, he ensured his sword was sheathed and that his movements were slow, deliberate, and visible. He wanted to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Even before he was close enough for a normal conversation, Adam began to speak. His voice was calm, carefully controlled, and respectful, hoping to convey his peaceful intentions.

"Greetings, Master Smith. I am Adam, an Otherworlder. I hope I am not disturbing you."

The words came out steady, but inside, Adam was acutely aware of the disparity between his own strength and the blacksmith’s. He posed no threat to this entity—none at all—so he focused entirely on being polite and respectful.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The rhythmic strikes continued, the blacksmith seemingly indifferent to Adam’s words.

"Master Blacksmith, sir," Adam continued, stepping a little closer. His voice grew louder, though he made sure not to sound demanding. "I hope I am not disturbing you."

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The blacksmith, Vetius, continued working, his skeletal frame leaning into each swing of the hammer. There was no acknowledgment of Adam’s presence—no hostility, but no recognition either.

Adam knew that, for now, this was a good sign. As long as Vetius wasn’t attacking him, he had a chance. But he couldn’t just stand there in silence. His goal was not simply to observe, but to engage. He had come here for a purpose, and he needed to make that clear.

“Master Blacksmith, sir," Adam began again, his voice firm but polite, "I was hoping you could take me as an apprentice.”

The sound of the hammer paused for a fraction of a second, but only just. It continued, but slower this time.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

With each strike, the rhythm diminished until it stopped altogether. The forge, once filled with the steady music of the blacksmith’s work, now fell into an eerie silence.

Vetius turned slowly, the dim light of the forge casting long shadows across his skeletal form. His hollow eyes fixated on Adam, and for the first time, the blacksmith acknowledged his presence.

“What… did… you… say…?”

The voice was deep, resonant, and hollow—like an ancient echo carried through the crypts of the catacombs. Adam’s nerves tightened, but he remained calm on the outside. He had practiced this moment in his mind many times, and he knew he needed to choose his words carefully.

“I was hoping you could take me as your student," Adam repeated, his tone steady. He stood his ground, speaking clearly despite the tension rising within him. "I wish to learn blacksmithing.”

Vetius remained motionless, his skeletal frame still as stone. As a creature without flesh, the blacksmith had no facial expressions, but Adam could sense a shift in the air—a momentary flicker of something resembling surprise. It wasn’t directed at Adam personally nor at his request specifically, but rather at the idea that after all this time, someone would ask to learn from him.

Perhaps Vetius doubted what he had heard. His hollow voice came again, this time slower, more deliberate.

"Otherworlder...? "What... brings... you... to... my... forge...?"

Adam repeated himself patiently, careful not to rush. He knew this was a crucial moment. If he pushed too hard or too fast, Vetius could easily reject him—or worse. So, Adam restated his request as calmly as possible, making sure his intentions were clear.

"I’ve come seeking knowledge, Master Smith. And perhaps, if you’ll allow it, your guidance."

Vetius didn’t respond immediately. For several long moments, the silence stretched between them. Adam’s heart raced, though outwardly he remained composed. There was no guarantee the blacksmith would agree to his request, and Adam was fully aware of the danger he was placing himself in. But he had come too far to back down now.

Then, slowly, Vetius turned back toward the forge, his skeletal hands resting on the anvil. There was no clear approval, no immediate acceptance of Adam’s plea. But there was also no rejection—no sudden strike of the hammer or unsheathing of a blade to end his life. In this context, silence was a positive outcome.

Though Vetius had not spoken further, Adam knew that his request had not been dismissed outright. And in the world Adam lived in, where even the slightest mistake could mean death, that was a victory in itself.

For now, Adam remained patient. He had made the first step, and that was enough.

***

'I can still speak?' Vetius thought to himself, the realization rippling through his mind like a stone dropped into a still pond. 'And it appears that the living can understand me...'

It had been so long since his last interaction with the living that the very act of speaking felt foreign, almost forgotten. Vetius strained his thoughts, trying to recall the last time he had held a conversation—any exchange of words with another soul. But his efforts were fruitless. His memory was a barren field, devoid of any recollection of when or with whom he had last spoken. He couldn’t even remember when silence had become his constant companion.

The blacksmith’s hollow eyes focused on Adam, still standing there patiently, awaiting a response.

'A living being... wants to learn from me?' Vetius pondered this strange turn of events. He had expected the human to attack him, as all others had before. Every living creature that crossed his path either feared him or sought to destroy him as if they could not comprehend that he was anything other than a threat. Yet, this human came with a request—not for battle, but for knowledge.

No. This was not a bad thing. Perhaps this was the natural progression, the cycle of a master passing on his knowledge to a student. The idea took root in Vetius’s mind, slowly blossoming into something he had never considered before. A craftsman must, eventually, pass down what he has learned... It was the way of the world. Even in his undead state, the laws of learning, of creation, still held sway.

'Wait... that makes me a master?' The thought caused Vetius to pause. 'When did I become a master?'

He had never been taught formally; he had never apprenticed under anyone. He was a self-taught blacksmith, nothing more than a student of his own ambitions, endlessly working in solitude. How could he be a master when all he had done was mimic the movements of blacksmiths he had once observed in life?

He turned to look at the fruits of his labor, the piles of weapons and armor he had forged over the ages. Swords, daggers, axes, spears, shields, and armor of every type lay in organized chaos around his workshop. The sheer volume of his creations was staggering—an endless sea of metallic instruments that stretched further than he had ever realized.

Did I… did I really make all of these? Vetius felt something akin to wonder, though his skeletal form could not express it. There’s so much... How did I make this many items?

For the first time in what felt like centuries, the hammer slipped from Vetius’s bony hands. It clattered to the ground with a dull thud, its sound far quieter than the clangs of metal that had filled the forge for so long. Although Vetius was a skeleton and no longer susceptible to the physical weariness of the living, he felt an overwhelming urge to sit, as if he could still remember the sensation of exhaustion. He lowered himself to the floor, his mind churning as it delved deep into memories he hadn’t thought to access for a long, long time.

He remembered his death—of that, he was certain. The pain of mortality had left its mark on his spirit, even in undeath. He had come back as a revenant, wandering this world as a hollow shell of who he once was. That, too, he knew.

He had explored the labyrinthine catacombs where he now resided, venturing into the deepest recesses of this dark and sunless world. He had uncovered a sunken city, a place long abandoned, and taken many items from its forgotten ruins. Afterward, he had built the maze—his maze—to keep intruders and hostile forces at bay, constructing it piece by piece over time, though time itself had become irrelevant in this strange existence.

Once the maze was completed, he remembered building his workshop. Using the relics and resources he had gathered from the sunken city, he had created a forge near a mine rich in ore. It was the perfect place to study, experiment, and practice the art of blacksmithing.

Blacksmithing had been his dream in life, yet he had never truly lived it. He had spent countless hours watching others work the forge, their skilled hands shaping metal into weapons and tools. But in life, he had never dared pick up the hammer himself. It was only in death, in this second existence, that he had begun to craft. Imitation had become his teacher; the echoes of blacksmiths long gone guided his hands in the forge.

And then, he worked. He had worked for so long that the memories of those early days faded into nothing but the sound of his hammer striking metal.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The rhythm of his work had become the constant beat of his existence. The clangs only paused when hostile creatures intruded upon his domain. He dealt with them swiftly, returning to his forge as if nothing had happened.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

And then... this human had appeared. A living being who had asked not for a fight but for his guidance. For the first time in ages, Vetius questioned what had happened in the world outside his maze. How long had he been here, forging in isolation? What had he missed?

The human—Adam—was still standing before him, his request hanging in the air like an unanswered question.

What did I miss? Vetius wondered, his mind grappling with the possibilities. Perhaps this human could provide him with answers, with knowledge of the world beyond his forge.

After all, there was much more to learn, even for a master.

***

Adam stood as still as a statue, not daring to move a muscle. Every fiber of his being was alert, attuned to the slightest shift in the air, waiting for any sign of what the blacksmith might do next. The tension was palpable. Without the ability to gauge the blacksmith’s emotions—no facial expressions, no body language—Adam found himself in a precarious position. For all he knew, the blacksmith could be silently seething with rage at being interrupted or simply considering the strange request.

Minutes passed, though to Adam, it felt like an eternity. He stood there, frozen, his heartbeat the only sound in his ears. Would Vetius respond? Or would his hammer fall in a different way, one that would end this exchange before it even began?

Then, after what felt like an hour, the stillness was broken.

“You…"

"Are… you… adventurer… from… Lorik… Kingdom…?”

The voice was slow, deliberate, as though the words themselves carried weight. But it wasn’t hostile. Adam felt a subtle shift in his chest—hope. If Vetius wanted to talk, it meant that the immediate threat of death had lessened, if only slightly.

“No, master," Adam replied, his voice calm yet careful, "I am an Otherworlder.” He paused, assessing his next words. There was no need to lie. Honesty was his best option in dealing with such an ancient being. "I was summoned here and have been exploring this place for a few days.”

He held back a crucial piece of information—the fact that the Lorik Kingdom, which Vetius mentioned, no longer existed. The old name had faded into history, replaced by the modern Lorikan Republic. Adam knew better than to reveal this. No player had yet uncovered this detail, and the undead often had a strange relationship with their past lives. The dead, especially revenants like Vetius, could be sensitive about what they once knew. It was best not to prod those old wounds, especially when their moods could swing unpredictably between indifference and fury.

The blacksmith stood silent again, seemingly processing Adam’s words. When Vetius finally spoke, his tone carried no immediate malice, but neither did it offer comfort.

“You… were… summoned… to… blacksmith…?”

Adam could feel the weight behind the question. There was no hint of sarcasm, no accusatory tone. It was simply an inquiry from a being who likely didn’t fully understand the world's complexities beyond his forge.

“No, master,” Adam responded with a slow shake of his head. “I chose to become a blacksmith.”

Another long pause followed. The forge was deathly silent, save for the faint crackling of the embers that still glowed faintly in the hearth. The tension, though lighter than before, still lingered in the air.

“I… see…”

Vetius’s voice was quieter now, as though the revelation required some deeper contemplation. Adam could only guess at the thoughts swirling through the ancient blacksmith’s mind. Perhaps he was reflecting on his own journey into the craft, the memories of when he, too, had made a choice that shaped his unending existence.

And then, breaking the silence, a window notification appeared in Adam's vision, hovering just in front of him. The sudden appearance of the message was a stark contrast to the quiet atmosphere of the forge, and Adam’s focus momentarily shifted to reading its contents.

He didn't dare break eye contact with Vetius, but the notification told him what he had hoped for.

***

'So, the human doesn’t know anything either.' The thought passed through Vetius’s mind as he observed Adam standing there with an air of patience. The arrival of souls from another world—Otherworlders—had long been prophesied by the seers of his time. He remembered their whispers, their vague warnings, woven into the fabric of the old kingdom's folklore. It was said that Otherworlders were sent by the gods themselves, their purpose tied to aiding Lorik in its hour of greatest need.

But back then, the idea had been met with skepticism. Some dismissed it outright, believing such tales to be nothing more than religious superstition. Others, more ominously, saw it as a sign of impending doom, a harbinger of the end of times. As a younger man, Vetius had never paid much attention to those warnings. The concerns of prophets and scholars were not his own.

And now, as an undead, all those old prophecies felt even further removed from him—distant echoes of a lifelong past. The affairs of Lorik, or whatever had become of it, no longer held any sway over him. The world above might have changed beyond recognition, but for Vetius, those changes meant nothing.

The realization settled deeper as he thought about the living being before him.

'This man knows little to nothing about the world above,' he mused. 'The questions the human asked, the way he spoke, revealed his ignorance of history and the old kingdoms.'

None of it mattered.

'I do not care,' Vetius acknowledged to himself, a sense of finality in the thought. 'I am a blacksmith. I am undead. I can forge as many items as I want.'

That was the essence of his existence. It wasn’t about the world that had once been or the conflicts that had shaped it. He was bound to the forge, the endless rhythm of creation. The clanging of metal, the shaping of ore—that was what defined him now. His memories of life, of humanity, does not matter, it was eclipsed by the singular purpose that consumed him in death.

And now this Otherworlder stood before him, asking to learn the craft. A human, summoned from some distant world, seeking guidance from a creature like him.

Why not?

The idea began to root itself in Vetius’s mind. He had no reason to refuse. He had always repelled the living, driven by fear or aggression, never seeing him for what he truly was—a blacksmith. But this man had not attacked. He had not recoiled in terror. Instead, he had asked to learn.

Vetius considered it for a long moment. He had forged countless weapons and armor pieces, all without the guidance of another. His knowledge had come from memory and experience, an imitation of what he had once witnessed as a mortal. Perhaps now... the time has come to pass it on. The cycle of master and apprentice was part of the natural order, even for those who had long since stepped outside the boundaries of life and death.

The Otherworlder had asked for guidance, and Vetius, in this strange, hollow existence, saw no reason to deny him.

Finally, Vetius made his decision.

"You… will… learn…" he said, his voice slow and heavy, each word deliberate. "You… will… craft… and… forge…"

With those few words, the apprenticeship was sealed.

***

"Very… well…" Vetius’s voice echoed through the forge, the words slow and deliberate, sealing Adam's fate as the blacksmith's apprentice.

A series of notifications immediately appeared in Adam's view, confirming what he had hoped for:

Ding!

[You have become a student of Vetius, Grandmaster Blacksmith.]

[You are now a Novice Blacksmith (0.00%)]

[Trait ‘Metallurgy’ has been added. As a novice blacksmith, you have a basic understanding of metals and the blacksmithing process.]

[All related skills will be gradually unlocked as you learn from your master via chain quest. Your available points will not be used to unlock these skills.]

[If the bond is broken either by the teacher or the student before the student becomes expert-level, all skills learned will disappear.]

[As you are under a grandmaster-level blacksmith, the growth rate for Blacksmithing proficiency is 50% higher than normal.]

Yes! Yes! Yes! Adam’s mind raced with excitement.

This was better than he had hoped. He had worried his plan wouldn’t work, but now, all his efforts had paid off. Securing a master’s tutelage was no small feat in Pangea, especially under someone as powerful as Vetius.

Becoming an apprentice to a master in Pangea was a rare achievement. There were usually trials, challenges, and obscure requirements one had to meet before even being considered for such a privilege. For most, these trials were arduous, and failure meant never getting another chance. Yet Adam had bypassed it all simply by asking?

Of course not.

Adam knew that getting to this point was far from simple. The maze itself was a high-level zone, guarded by a Revenant-type Grandmaster Blacksmith at its center. Just reaching Vetius was a challenge that few players would have the patience or skill to undertake. And finding one's way through the maze? Even harder. Most players would have given up long before they even laid eyes on the undead blacksmith.

On top of that, who would think to ask a hostile undead being for an apprenticeship? The first players who encountered Vetius had attacked him on sight, paying for their mistake with their lives.

It was likely that the opportunity to gain Vetius’s mentorship was exclusive to the first player brave—or clever—enough to ask. Perhaps it was even tied to Adam’s specific class and playstyle, a benefit of being a Creation Paradigm player. Either way, this was a hidden gem that no one had discovered before.

Many players who had visited Vetius likely tried to get quests from him, only to be turned away. Their only option had been to treat him as a merchant, buying items but never receiving any further engagement. Adam had come prepared to do the same. If Vetius had rejected him, Adam had planned to simply buy a few of his crafted items and move on. After all, he already had the skill book for Blacksmithing, one of the loot items he had found in a hidden room.

But this? This was far better than anything he could have anticipated. Securing a master meant gaining access to a series of skills at no cost, provided he could complete the chain of quests given by Vetius. On top of that, the apprenticeship came with the invaluable boost of increased proficiency growth.

"Observe… what… I… do…" Vetius intoned, his skeletal voice snapping Adam out of his thoughts.

Ding!

[Blacksmithing Chain Quest: Observe Grandmaster Vetius]

Details: Your first lesson begins. Observe how your teacher works the forge. Watch closely, take note, and try to understand what he is doing.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The rhythmic sound of the hammer striking metal filled the air once again. Even though Adam had only just become a Blacksmith in-game, he wasn’t a complete novice. He had brief experiences in Pangea working as a Blacksmith, and during the real-world apocalypse, he learned a few things about the craft. Still, this was different. Vetius was a Grandmaster, and Adam knew he had much to learn from someone of such caliber.

Adam allowed himself a moment to reflect. With this third class, he would shift his focus from combat to crafting, at least temporarily. His first class, Alchemy, had ironically been the one he hadn’t used much since obtaining it. While Purify had proven invaluable in his battle against the necromancers, he had yet to brew a single potion.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his master at the forge. Adam focused, watching as Vetius worked on crafting a dagger with practiced precision. Each movement was deliberate, each strike purposeful. Time passed quickly as Adam became engrossed in observing the process.

A new notification flashed across his vision:

System Notification: You have been in Pangea for 24 hours. You need sustenance in the real world. Eating and drinking in-game would consume your gaming capsule’s supply of nutrients and fluids.

This was no time to log out. Still focused on Vetius, Adam pulled out some of the bread and water that Imperatrix Demetra had supplied at the start of the game. He took a quick bite of the bread, followed by a sip of water.

The gaming capsule simulated the taste so perfectly that Adam could almost forget he wasn’t eating in real life. The bread had the familiar texture and flavor he remembered from his earlier days in the game.

Ding!

[Essential nutrients have been transferred to your body; 88% of the supply remains.]

Vetius ignored Adam's brief pause for sustenance, continuing his work as though nothing had happened. Finally, after what felt like hours, the dagger was completed. Without a word, Vetius gestured for Adam to take it.

[Vetius’ Dagger (UNCOMMON)]

Type: Dagger

Damage: 75

Weight: 1

Durability: 40/40

Description: A remarkable dagger crafted using ordinary materials. Its creation is a testament to the skill of the blacksmith who forged it.

Adam blinked in surprise. The stats were far better than he expected. He checked again, making sure he hadn’t misread anything.

These stats are insane! he thought. His current weapon, the Superior Longsword, had lower damage than this dagger, which shouldn’t have been possible. Daggers typically had less power unless they were enchanted. But this? Vetius hadn’t used any rare or magical materials—just basic, common ore, the kind found in almost any mine. And yet, the dagger's power exceeded that of a longsword.

Ding!

[Blacksmithing Chain Quest Completed: Observe Grandmaster Vetius]

"Study… it…" Vetius instructed. "Use… it…"

Ding!

[Blacksmithing Chain Quest: Recreate Vetius’ Dagger]

Details: Your master has given you the dagger he created. Create a dagger similar to it and present it to Master Vetius.

"Find… materials…" Vetius continued. "Bring… materials… here…"

"Then… make… your… dagger…"

With a wave of his skeletal arm, Vetius opened a hidden pathway in the wall; one Adam hadn’t even noticed despite his careful inspection earlier.

The quest sounded simple on the surface: find the materials and craft a dagger. But Adam knew better. In Pangea, quests like this were never as straightforward as they seemed—especially not when they came from a Grandmaster.

Most players would have found themselves stumped, confused by the lack of direction. They might waste hours searching for materials without understanding what was truly required. The quest could easily drag on, frustrating anyone who approached it without a clear plan.

But Adam understood the deeper layers of the task. He needed to study the dagger, not just wield it in combat but truly understand how it was made. Finding the right materials was more than simply gathering ore—it was about identifying the best quality and making sure it was neither too low nor too high for his skill level. Vetius would likely reject anything that didn’t meet his exacting standards.

And then, there was the crafting itself. Adam’s earlier observation of Vetius at the forge had likely provided the key to this part of the quest. He needed to remember every detail of how his master had worked.

It was all part of a larger lesson—one that went far beyond simply completing a quest. Pangea had a way of teaching players more than the obvious.

‘It’s almost as if the game is preparing us for something horrible in the near future,’ Adam mused to himself.

Before heading through the newly revealed pathway, Adam approached his teacher with a final request.