06. First Party (02)

Firstden Town wasn't as small as Alden had first imagined.

From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a simple village. A cluster of wooden buildings surrounded by walls, unremarkable and modest. But he had been completely mistaken.

Beyond the main entrance gate lay a network of routes that branched into districts completely hidden from external view. Alden learned this from a large map posted just outside the tavern where they'd gathered, detailed enough to help newcomers navigate the settlement's layout with relative ease.

The town was designed with clear intention and purpose. The left path from the main entrance catered to basic civilian necessities and daily life. Communal gathering halls, food stalls selling everything from bread to exotic monster meat, general goods shops, and the central town square were all located in that direction.

Meanwhile, the right path led to what could only be described as the martial district. A harsher, louder side of town dominated by the constant clanging of metal against metal and waves of heat rolling from open forges. Blacksmith workshops, weapon vendors, armor forges, and martial arts training centers filled this entire section. Swordsmanship academies, combat technique dojos, archery ranges, and everything related to warfare and combat progression had taken root here like a garden of steel and flame.

The sharp, rhythmic ringing of hammers striking anvils filled the air, punctuated by the hiss of heated metal being plunged into quenching barrels.

This time, the number of reincarnators wandering the area had increased noticeably compared to the main plaza. Most were gathered in front of weapon vendors and blacksmith stalls, carefully scanning displays for gear that suited their class requirements and budgets.

"Prepare yourselves as best as you can," Archie addressed the entire team, his voice taking on a more serious tone than before. "We can't afford to fail this run again. Last time cost us too much in repair fees."

All of them immediately scattered to different stalls and shops, each member clearly preoccupied with upgrading or repairing their equipment.

Carius headed toward what looked like an enchanter's shop, probably seeking spell scrolls or magical focuses. Evaron made a beeline for the fletcher, inspecting arrows with expert precision. Serina disappeared into an alchemist's stall, likely buying potions or reagents for her blood magic.

Alden, however, found himself standing still. But then, a few seconds later, clarity struck him.

What he desperately needed, what his entire class was designed around, was a shield.

Alden made his way purposefully toward one of the larger blacksmith establishments, a sturdy two-story building with smoke billowing from multiple chimneys. The sign hanging above the entrance read "Warrior's Arm" in bold, angular letters, with a painted image of a shield and crossed swords beneath it.

"Excuse me," Alden called out as he stepped through the open doorway.

His attention was immediately drawn to an entire wall lined with shields of every imaginable variety—each one crafted from different materials with distinct shapes, sizes, and decorative engravings. Round shields, kite shields, tower shields. Wood reinforced with iron bands, solid steel, even one that appeared to be made from some kind of scaled hide.

"Oh? An adventurer?" The voice came from deeper inside the shop, rough but not unfriendly.

A moment later, its owner emerged. A bald, dark-skinned man with arms like tree trunks, his muscles defined from years of working the forge. He'd paused mid-swing over a glowing blade that rested on his anvil, hammer held in one massive hand. When he saw Alden, he grinned broadly.

"Come on in, come in! Welcome, welcome. Feel free to take a look around. Everything you see is available."

Alden stepped further inside, his eyes widening slightly as he examined the brilliant craftsmanship on display. The engravings alone must have taken hours each, depicting scenes of battles, protective runes, family crests, even abstract patterns that seemed to shimmer in the forge-light.

"Are these... all for sale?" Alden asked, the question coming out almost absentmindedly. Awe dripped from his voice despite his attempt to sound casual.

The blacksmith let out a booming laugh that echoed through the workshop.

"You mocking me, kid?" His tone was amused rather than offended. "Sure, business ain't exactly booming these days with all you reincarnators running off to craft your own gear or scavenging from dungeons. But of course they're for sale! What, you think I hammer away at metal all day for my health? I need coins like everyone else!"

Alden felt his face heat slightly with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

He paused, then decided to just be direct. "Do you... accept barter? Trading items instead of coins?"

The blacksmith didn't answer immediately. Moments later, he wiped sweat and accumulated soot from his face onto an already filthy apron that might have once been white but was now a patchwork of brown and black stains.

"Barter?" The smith's eyebrows rose. "What, are you broke or something? What kind of reincarnator doesn't have at least a few bronze coins?"

"I'm on a Quest Board mission," Alden replied, moving closer and perching himself on one of the high wooden stools near the counter. "Just started today, actually. Haven't had a chance to earn much yet."

"Ah, one of those board quests. Which one?" The blacksmith leaned against his counter, arms crossed but expression curious rather than judgmental.

"Boss fight?"

"No, a swarm mission. Imps," Alden said, exhaling slowly. The weight of what he'd committed to was starting to sink in more concretely now that he was preparing for it.

"The rest of my team is getting their gear ready, upgrading what they can. I want to do the same. I know I'm weak right now—I'm not delusional about that. But I don't want to be completely useless, you know? Even if I can't deal much damage to help with the kill... at least I want to hold my ground. Stay alive long enough to matter."

"I see the problem." The blacksmith nodded thoughtfully, then called over his shoulder toward the forge. "Hey, what level are you, kid?"

"One."

There was complete silence for several long seconds. Then the blacksmith's head slowly turned back to face Alden, his expression shifting from casual interest to genuine shock.

His eyes widened. "Hold on. Are you seriously telling me you're planning to face a swarm of Imps... at level one? Those things are rated for level ten minimum!"

Alden turned his gaze away, unable to meet the smith's eyes. A heavy sigh escaped him.

"I wish I could tell the team that I want to back out. That I made a mistake accepting the quest. But..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain the social pressure.

"That's either incredibly bold or incredibly stupid," the blacksmith said bluntly. Then, surprisingly, he grinned. "But I like it. Takes guts. And hey, if your team is fine bringing a level one, they must see something in you. Or they're desperate. Either way, why not give it a shot?"

Alden stayed quiet, not wanting to explain the full situation—that he suspected Archie had chosen him specifically to serve as a disposable distraction, as Carius had stated outright.

The real question burning in his mind was simpler and more terrifying: Could he even survive the Imps' attacks long enough to be useful as bait?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden loud clang as the blacksmith slammed something heavy down onto the wooden counter, making Alden jump slightly.

"Refined Bronze Shield," the smith announced with clear pride in his voice. He patted the shield's surface affectionately. "Mid-tier material, proper construction. Solid enough defense to tank quite a few Imp hits without shattering. The downside? It's heavy. Heavier than it looks. But if you focus purely on blocking and positioning rather than trying to counterattack constantly, it'll serve you well."

[Refined Bronze Shield]

Tier: Unique (T3)

Attack: +5

Defense: +25

Attack Speed:** -20%

Stamina: -10 after blocking 3 times

Sustain: 100%

Effect: After blocking 3 consecutive attacks, gain +5 Defense for 10 seconds. Reduces stamina consumption by 5% during this effect.

Value: 35 Bronze Coins

Twenty-five defense. That was more than double his current total Defense stat. The effect was perfect for his situation too. Rewarding successful blocking with even more survivability and stamina efficiency. This was exactly what he needed.

"Wait... you're giving me this?" Alden looked up at the blacksmith in confusion, then down at his own meager inventory. "In exchange for what? I don't have thirty-five bronze. I could maybe offer this Common sword from the trial, but that's not nearly equivalent value—"

"No, no." The blacksmith held up one massive hand, cutting him off.

"I'm not asking you to trade anything right now. Take the shield. Use it. Pay me after you finish your mission. And more importantly, come back and tell me how it performed. How the weight felt, whether the defensive bonus triggered reliably, if the stamina reduction was noticeable.”

His grin widened. "I just want to see the results of my craftsmanship in actual combat. Call it field testing. You survive, you pay me. You die… well, I'm out a shield, but that's the risk I'm taking on you."

This NPC—Alden glanced at the nameplate that appeared: Isei, Master Smith—was far too kind. Almost more genuinely human in his generosity than the actual reincarnators Alden had met so far.

"Thank you," Alden said sincerely, accepting the shield and carefully storing it in his inventory where it vanished in a flash of light. The system confirmed the addition. "I promise I'll come back."

"Go hunt those Imps down!" Isei nodded. "Just mind the sustain degradation. This shield is designed and optimized for adventurers level five and up. Since you're using it at level one—four levels below the threshold—its durability will wear down twenty-five percent faster than normal. Use it smart, block what matters, and you'll be fine."

Another law of Ascendria revealed itself. When Alden thought about it, the system was actually remarkably well-balanced. Preventing players from relying too heavily on high-tier gear without facing meaningful consequences. It encouraged proper progression rather than just farming end-game equipment at low levels.

The tier and level system made sense now. Every piece of equipment had a tier rating, and every tier had a recommended level range to fully utilize its stats and durability.

If a reincarnator's level was one to five levels below that threshold, sustain would degrade twenty-five percent faster. If they were six to ten levels below, it would degrade fifty percent faster. And if they were more than ten levels below the requirement, the item couldn't be equipped at all. The system simply wouldn't allow it.

Alden did some quick mental math. His Epic sword—the Silverbane—was recommended for levels ten to twenty. At level one, he was nine levels below, meaning it would degrade at fifty percent increased rate. Using it for this Imp mission would burn through half its durability in what should normally consume only a quarter. That would be criminally wasteful for a weapon that powerful.

Holding back on using it until absolutely necessary had definitely been the right strategic call.

Alden stepped out of Warrior's Arm and began scanning the busy street for his teammates, shading his eyes against the afternoon sun.

"You there! Gatekeeper! What took you so long?" A sharp female voice cut through the ambient noise.

It was Serina, the Crimson Witch, standing with her arms crossed and an annoyed expression on what was visible of her face beneath that wide hat. The others had already gathered near a fountain in the small plaza at the center of the martial district.

Alden jogged over quickly, not wanting to delay them further. "Sorry, I was—"

"It's not like you're going to survive until the end anyway," Serina scoffed, cutting him off with casual cruelty. She turned away dismissively. "So whether you're prepared or not doesn't really matter in the long run."

"We need you for distraction, nothing more," Evaron added, his elven features set in an expression of cool indifference. "Don't even think about trying to deal damage or play hero. That's not your role. Just hold aggro and don't die immediately."

"You'd better get used to tough situations fast, newbie," Carius chimed in, the mage's eyes fixed on Alden with that same cold, analytical assessment from before. "There's no room for the weak in this world. We're destined to ascend to Heaven—not to relax and have fun playing at being adventurers. This is serious. Life and death. Even worse, live forever here.”

"Alright, everyone ready?" Archie's voice cut through, though he didn't defend Alden either. "Let's head out and finish this. No mistakes this time. We know the patterns, we've got our strategy. Just execute properly."

They all began their march toward the town's eastern gate, which led to the forest area where the Imp infestation had been reported. Alden fell into step behind them, his new shield summoned to his left arm, his silver sword at his right hip.

Carius was right about one thing, at least. That ethereal voice from the very beginning—from the white void before he'd even entered the trial—had told them all their ultimate purpose. Their path forward in this world: To ascend to Heaven.

They had to improve constantly. Had to grow stronger, overcome challenges, push their limits. Even a simple, stagnant life carried its own weight of quiet sorrow and meaninglessness, the voice had implied.

Though Alden still didn't fully understand what ascending actually meant or what Heaven represented in this context.

Was it literally the afterlife? A final level? Some transcendent state of being? Or just a meta

phor for achieving your full potential?

He didn't know. But he supposed he'd find out eventually—assuming he survived long enough to get there.