parentshiftbook Chapter 73: Ch 73: First Weapon Forged- Part 1
Chapter 73: Ch 73: First Weapon Forged- Part 1
Chapter 73: Ch 73: First Weapon Forged- Part 1Fenrir stared at the sword resting on the rack in his lab. It didn’t look flashy. It didn’t glow ominously or hum with power like some legendary relic.
But he knew what it could do.
A thirty-percent burn chance on hit was no joke, and the fact that it existed on a C-class weapon made it even more intriguing.
He tapped his fingers against the desk, thinking.
"Should I put it up for auction... or test it first?"
Fenrir wasn’t someone who sold a product without knowing its limits. He needed to test it in real combat.
How it swung. How the burn triggered. Whether it had any drawbacks or hidden perks the system hadn’t listed.
He opened up the hunters’ forum to check dungeon availability and frowned almost immediately.
Nearly every dungeon, even the unpopular or risky ones, was packed. Photos, complaints, and hunter chatter filled the feed, all revolving around one thing—Mr. ’X’.
Apparently, a rumor had spread that Mr. ’X’ liked gathering his ingredients personally.
Now people were flooding into dungeons hoping to "accidentally" meet him.
The chaos had made most dungeons unusable for anyone actually trying to hunt or test something.
Fenrir rubbed his forehead.
"This is ridiculous."
With no other choice, he opened his contact list and dialed Rick.
Rick picked up on the second ring.
"Something wrong?"
"I need a dungeon. Something quiet. Something not filled with nosy idiots playing treasure hunt."
Rick sighed.
"Let me guess. You want to test a new item?"
"Exactly. A sword. I need space and no audience."
Rick hummed on the other end of the line.
Alright. Give me some time. I’ll arrange something and send someone to escort you. Be ready when I message."
"Thanks."
Fenrir closed the call and packed up the sword and a few potions. An hour later, his phone buzzed.
[Rick: Go outside. My sister will bring you over.]
Fenrir blinked.
"His sister?"
He walked outside to find a sleek black car parked by the curb. Reine, Rick’s younger sister, was leaning against the driver’s side with a smug grin.
"Yo, I’m your chauffeur today."
She said, tossing a mock salute.
Fenrir immediately got a bad feeling.
"...Can I just get there on my own?"
Reine grabbed his arm.
"Nope. Orders are orders. Get in. I need to keep you safe."
Reluctantly, Fenrir got into the passenger seat, but not without quickly fastening his seatbelt and tightening it like a lifeline.
The moment the door shut, Reine slammed her foot on the accelerator.
The car took off like it had rocket boosters. Fenrir’s head hit the headrest so hard he winced.
"What the hell—!?"
"Relax, you’ll get there faster this way."
Reine said cheerfully, weaving through traffic like it was a video game.
Pedestrians blurred past. Horns blared. Fenrir clutched the door handle with white knuckles.
"This is not normal! How do you even have a license!?"
Reine shrugged, cool as ever.
"I don’t."
Fenrir’s eyes widened.
"What?"
"No one’s caught me yet. So why bother?""
She said with a laugh.
Fenrir groaned and stared at the road ahead, silently counting every second until they reached their destination.
Miraculously—somehow—they arrived in one piece. The car skidded to a perfect halt outside a private Legion facility with a dungeon gate secured by multiple locks and guards.
Fenrir stumbled out of the car, his legs a little shaky.
"I’m never getting in a car with you again."
He muttered.
"Sure....I might be the one taking you home as well."
Reine replied smugly, waving him off.
With his nerves still slightly frayed, Fenrir turned his attention back to what mattered—the sword. It was time to see what this thing could really do.
______
After barely surviving Reine’s version of "driving," Fenrir stepped into the main office building of the Legion company with a weary sigh.
Rick was already waiting at the entrance, arms crossed and eyebrows raised like he knew exactly what his sister had just done.
"You look like you saw death."
Rick commented dryly.
"I did. She was in the driver’s seat."
Fenrir muttered.
Rick chuckled and gestured for him to follow.
"Come on. Let’s get to the testing area."
They walked through several security doors until they reached a sterile hallway marked Re
More pop-ups flooded Fenrir’s vision, detailing damage per second, weakness multipliers, mana cost, and durability stats.
It was useful information, but the sheer number of alerts nearly overwhelmed his sight.
"Ugh, I need to figure out a filter for these messages."
He muttered, swatting one out of the way.
Still, he had to admit—it was impressive. Burn effects were almost always exclusive to A- or S-grade weapons due to their enchantment requirements and mana thresholds.
Having it trigger at this level was game-changing.
Rick, still watching, looked stunned.
"That’s not normal. C-grade weapons can’t do that. Are you sure you didn’t mislabel that thing?"
He said.
Fenrir chuckled and swung the sword again, this time at two enemies at once. A second later, both burst into flames.
"Nope. That’s the real grade. I made it myself."
Rick went silent for a moment, then finally said.
"...I need a copy."
"I don’t have a copy."
Fenrir teased.
Rick laughed, though he didn’t look away from the monitor.
"If you can make more like this, you’re going to redefine the market. A C-grade sword with a functional, high-burn chance status effect? That’s almost cheating."
Fenrir kept swinging, keeping an eye on how many strikes it took for the effect to trigger.
It seemed to activate on roughly one-third of his hits, matching the thirty-percent burn chance the system had listed earlier.
It was consistent, stable, and the sword hadn’t degraded yet. That was another bonus.
"Status tracking is annoying, but worth it. Let’s me evaluate the weapon performance down to the second."
Fenrir muttered. "
He disabled a few less important alerts, focusing only on HP loss, durability, and burn activation rate. With the visual clutter reduced, he found himself enjoying the process more.
After clearing the dungeon’s first two sectors, he sheathed the sword and walked back to the gate.
Rick met him at the exit.
"So?"
"So, it works."
Fenrir replied.
Rick stared at him.
"You just casually walk around making top-tier effects on mid-tier gear?"
Fenrir shrugged.
"Not casual. Took a few days and a lot of resources."
"Still, you realize you’re about to flip the weapon economy on its head, right?"
Rick said.