In the nineteenth year of the Era of Passing, spring.
It had been nearly seventy years since the Demon King was successfully defeated.
...
Northern part of the southern nations, the Ramiel region.
Inside a room at an inn.
The floor was littered with an untidy heap of magic tools beyond counting.
Standard longswords, leather pauldrons, hardened leather greaves, fine steel rings... there were all kinds of them, in all kinds of styles, but they all had one thing in common.
They were all dull and ashen.
At a glance, it was obvious that the magical formulas laid upon them—the so-called enchantnts—were probably no longer of much use.
In the eyes of adventurers, this was just a pile of worthless junk.
But Shane sat right in the middle of that pile of junk.
His eyes were shining.
He picked up a longsword from the pile, and lines of information that only he could see imdiately surfaced before his eyes.
[Rusted One-Handed Sword]
Status: Nearly Scrapped
Traits:
[Fragile (Grey/Inferior)]: The tal has severely deteriorated. Physical attack power is reduced by 50%, and it is extrely likely to break upon impact.
[Bleeding (White/Common)]: The rusted, serrated blade is more likely to inflict wounds that are difficult to heal. Bleeding effect increased by an additional 30%.
Evaluation: Gray rats, goblins, bugbears, the catgirl waitress at the tavern... this thing has seen the world.
...
Setting down the worldly sword, he picked up another damaged leather pauldron.
[Moth-Eaten Leather Pauldrons]
Status: Scrapped
Traits:
[Perforated (White/Common)]: The dense spread of tiny moth holes significantly improves breathability.
[Toughness (White/Common)]: Made from extrely high-quality deer hide and processed with a special tanning technique. Even after long exposure to the elents, it remains remarkably tough.
Evaluation: Probably useless for blocking blades, but it might help boost your charisma.
At that point—
Shane's gaze sharpened, and his mind focused to the limit. The several traits on the sword and pauldron beca tangible in his eyes, as though he could reach out and tear them off directly.
'Extract.'
At his command, the three white traits were peeled away with ease, transforming into three tiny white motes of light that hovered in front of him.
[Bleeding (White/Common)]
[Perforated (White/Common)]
[Toughness (White/Common)]
Shane raised a hand and rubbed his temples. The swelling ache brought on by the expenditure of ntal power always left him feeling miserable.
The mont those traits were removed, the two worn-out pieces of equipnt completely collapsed and gradually vanished.
Just like the demonic creatures of this world after death, dissolving into magical particles without a trace.
Shane paid it no mind.
He focused on controlling the three traits, drawing them together into one spot.
'Attribute Reforging.'
Bzz—
An extrely low, faint hum sounded in the air before him.
The throbbing in his temples struck again, stronger this ti, and even more unpleasant.
Shane let out a sigh.
"My ntal power is still too low. I can't manipulate traits too often. Still... at least this wasn't a loss."
The original three traits disappeared, replaced by a brand-new trait that gave off a faint blue glow.
[Tornt (Blue/Rare)]: Attacks inflict continuous damage, reducing the target's current HP by 1% per second.
It had actually succeeded in one go.
And it was blue.
Not bad.
Shane smiled faintly, then drew the sword at his waist.
"Trait Imbue."
The new blue trait instantly flowed into the blade in his hand, and a fleeting streak of blue light flashed across its surface.
"That should raise my chances of surviving by a little more."
He let out a long breath.
Then he instinctively rubbed his swollen temples again. He couldn't keep going. If he burned through his ntal power without restraint, he might black out on the spot.
Tch.
That feeling was awful.
When he first discovered his "Golden Finger," he had been so swept up in the excitent that he tried too many extractions in a short span. He ended up unconscious for three days and three nights, nearly getting hauled off to the graveyard by so "helpful" locals who thought he'd kicked the bucket.
Indeed, Shane wasn't a local. This was his third year since transmigrating into this world.
In his previous life, Shane had never gone through any great upheaval. He was born into a middle-class family, cramd his way into a decent university, graduated, found a job, enjoyed the "blessings" of the 996 work schedule, and one morning while rushing to keep his perfect attendance record, he was sent flying two hundred ters by a sudden encounter with "destiny" at a street corner.
When he opened his eyes again, he had arrived in the fantasy world of Frieren: Beyond Journey's End, as a fifteen-year-old novice adventurer.
At the beginning, he had panicked.
After all, this was a genuine fantasy world with real supernatural power, filled with powerful monsters and savage beasts. And judging by the tiline of the story, at this point the demon generals and the surviving remnants of the Seven Sages of Destruction still hadn't been completely wiped out and were still wreaking havoc across the world.
An ordinary person could beco cannon fodder at any mont.
Fortunately, the mysterious power that dragged him here had a bit of a conscience and had given him an ability that let him handcraft traits.
No matter what kind of magical item it was, as long as he focused his ntal power, he could identify its exact traits. By spending ntal power, he could strip traits away and assign them elsewhere. And if he gathered three traits of the sa grade, he could reforge them into a random attribute of a higher tier.
Of course, reforging had a success rate.
Based on his previous attempts, the chance of success was about fifty-fifty. Getting a trait one or two tiers higher was fairly common. Anything of even higher quality, though, he hadn't managed to roll even once.
Still, no matter what—
If it could make him stronger, that was always a good thing.
Over the past three years, he had followed many adventurer parties in and out of low-level dungeons that had already been swept clean countless tis, hauling back piles of junk.
Picking through that junk and experinting over and over, he had barely managed to cobble together a few pieces of gear that were at least decent.
Well, what else could he do? He was poor.
He couldn't afford powerful equipnt, so the only option was to make his own.
Shane tightened the coarse hemp rope wrapped around the hilt of his sword, gripped it in his hand, and gave it a few light swings, carefully feeling it out.
[Ordinary Standard Longsword]
Status: Intact
Traits:
[Indestructible (Blue/Rare)]: Resistant to rust and cannot be destroyed by magic.
[Heavy Strike (Blue/Rare)]: Your basic attacks hit with the force of a heavy greataxe. Every hit deals great damage.
[Sharpness (Blue/Rare)]: Damage dealt by basic attacks is doubled.
[Suspect Toxin (Blue/Rare)]: Attacks have a chance to poison the target, triggering a random toxin.
[Electrocution (Blue/Rare)]: Attacks gain a lightning effect. On hit, they deal additional electric damage and inflict 1 second of paralysis.
[Deflection Field (Blue/Rare)]: Summons a chaotic force field that blocks one incoming ranged attack.
[Blade Storm (Blue/Rare)]: Creates a ring of ghostly blades that instantly sweeps the area around you.
[Flashbang (Blue/Rare)]: Swing the blade to unleash a powerful burst of white light, blinding everything in range for 3 seconds.
[Tornt (Blue/Rare)]: Attacks inflict continuous damage, reducing the target's current HP by 1% per second.
Evaluation: An ordinary sword.
"At this point, I should be able to take on so low-level jobs, like hunting slis or sothing... right?"
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