Adam’s POV
Nove was walking me through the basics of metal weaving, breaking down the key areas of focus.
First up, metal weaving required Nexus Energy Points (NEP), which were essentially this world’s version of mana.
The problem is that the kid whose body I’d hijacked had only a basic grasp of metal weaving. That meant Nove couldn’t go too deep into advanced techniques, since she herself doesn’t know them, leaving us stuck with the fundamentals. Even so, she guided me through the process of manipulating a small patch of dirt into a cube.
To my credit, the cube did rise off the ground.
But before I could celebrate, it crumbled into a sad little heap. Turns out, my metal weaving skills—or lack thereof—weren’t enough to stabilize even a basic structure.
“Normally, structures are fortified to maintain their shape,” Nove explained. “However, given your current skill level, that isn’t possible.”
The technique I’d used was something called Base Arts. It’s basically the training wheels of metal weaving, letting you move objects around—just don’t expect miracles. Its range? Minimal. Its applications? Limited.
Oh, and here’s the kicker: Nove’s knowledge of metal weaving is restricted to three basic arts. And with my Metalweaving Mastery (MW) sitting at a laughable 2/100, all three are basically useless.
One of the trio Nove briefed me on is the Base Arts. As basic as it sounds, it’s essentially just moving stuff around. Specifically, it contracts and expands simple materials—like stretching a ball of dirt into a flat surface. Simple, right?
Well, not really. It’s laughably inefficient. With my current skill level, I can’t manipulate anything tougher than dirt, wood, or maybe stone on a good day.
Sure, I could try the classic ground-born spear trick—spiking an enemy from below—but there are some major catches. First, I have to be close to the material to work with it. Second, the structures made with Base Arts are flimsy and riddled with air pockets, which means they crumble faster than a cookie in a toddler’s hand. In short? Trying to use Base Arts in a monster fight would be like pulling a rabbit out of a hat to scare off an armed robber—completely useless.
Luckily, the next two metal weaving arts are my saving grace.
First up, Fusion Arts. This nifty technique lets you fuse or separate materials, blending their properties to create something sturdier or cutting them apart like a blowtorch. With decent skill, it’s great for crafting weapons or tools.
Then there’s Fusion Forge Arts. Think of it as the upgrade system—it can enhance, melt, or amplify the unique properties of materials. Where Fusion Arts focuses on combining materials, Fusion Forge lets you extract and refine their potential.
Here’s where things get interesting: Combine Fusion Arts, Fusion Forge, and Base Arts, and you’ve got the complete package for crafting. Fusion Arts blends the materials, Fusion Forge enhances their properties, and Base Arts shapes them into something usable.
Unfortunately, my current options are dirt and stone—hardly the dream crafting materials. Still, if I can cobble together something remotely functional, that’s good enough for now.
Extracting materials turned out to be pretty straightforward. Using Base Arts, chunks of material were maneuvered out of the ground, and then Fusion Arts sliced them into manageable pieces, leaving behind rough, cube-shaped holes in the dirt. It reminded me of a survival game I played once—where you dig, gather, and build—but with a lot less effort on my part. Once extracted, the materials were whisked off to the inner storage like magic.
I should clarify, though—I wasn’t doing any of this. Nove was the one pulling all the strings. My role? Crouching down, touching the ground, and watching the show as rough cubes of dirt or stone rose up, turned red-hot at their base, got neatly severed, and then poof—vanished into storage.
While I’d prefer to learn the process myself, hunger had jumped to the top of my priorities list.
“Alright, time to craft a usable weapon,” I declared, sounding far more confident than I deserved, considering I wasn’t the one actually doing the work.
As if on cue, a chunk of stone and a similarly-sized block of dirt materialized in front of me, descending gracefully to the ground in rough cube-like shapes. My plan? Blend the two materials to create a weapon.
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It still felt weird, though. Even with Nove managing the materials in my inner inventory, watching objects appear out of thin air was surreal.
Also, using stone to make a weapon? Makes perfect sense. Using dirt? Not so much. But I wasn’t about to argue—this was Nove’s idea, after all. According to her, the dirt would fill in air pockets, making the weapon lighter, and Fusion Forge Arts could strengthen the dirt and fuse it with the stone
I crouched down, placing my hands over the cubes as Nove guided me through initiating Fusion Forge Arts to heat and strengthen them. Well, “guided” might be a stretch—I didn’t actually understand the mechanics. I just followed her instructions while she handled the technical details.
Soon, steam or smoke began rising from the stone and dirt chunks as they slowly shrank. I waited patiently for Nove’s signal before moving on to the next step. With her go-ahead, I activated Fusion Arts, watching the two cubes begin to merge.
It was… odd. The solid blocks softened, swirling together like putty in a bizarre color show. Eventually, the fusion stabilized, leaving me with a single cube in a light brown, almost khaki hue.
“I thought we were making a weapon?” I asked, frowning at the rough cube in front of me.
“We need processed materials to make a proper weapon,” Nove explained. “Otherwise, whatever we create would crumble.”
Her words made sense, but that left me with a decision: What kind of weapon should I make?
A sword was the obvious choice, but that meant close combat—not exactly ideal for someone with my stats. A spear? That could keep enemies at a distance, but I’d have to handle the weight. Or maybe a slingshot? That sounded fun and functional, but would I have the materials to use as ammo?
Decisions, decisions…
In the end, I asked Nove to mold the hot cube into a short spear. Granted, it didn’t exactly scream “majestic weapon of legend,” but it would do the job. The double-edged spear featured a slightly thick rod—uneven and far from sleek—and a blade that, while not razor-sharp, had a pointed tip sturdy enough for thrusting and puncturing. Think butter knife meets survival tool.
Despite its rough appearance, the spear felt durable. At just about a meter long, it was well-suited for my current weakened state. Surprisingly, it wasn’t scalding hot after the crafting process, even though it had been steaming like a tea kettle moments earlier. Instead, it was only mildly warm, comfortable enough to grip without fear of burns.
Clutching the spear, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride. Sure, it wasn’t a masterpiece, and it carried a bit of weight, but it was manageable. I wasn’t going to pull off any fancy combos like a fighting game protagonist, but for stabbing or smacking incoming monsters? Yeah, this would work.
“Success,” Nove’s voice rang out, calm and matter-of-fact.
As if to commemorate the moment, a game-like window appeared in front of the makeshift spear, displaying its stats.
Stone and Dirt Short Spear (0.5/6 Stars)
Materials used: Dirt, Stone.
Damage: 14
Durability: 50/50
Knockback: 4 (Weak)
Speed: 0.8 sec/swing
Resistances:
-10 to All Resistances
-8 to Earth Resistance
Special Attributes:
- Weak Craftsmanship (0.5/6 Stars): -25% to all stats
- Earthen Resilience Infusion (0.5/6 Stars): Max Damage: +2, Speed: -0.2 sec/swing
- Stone Fortification Enhancement (0.5/6 Stars): +3 damage on thrusting attacks
- Sturdy Craftsmanship (1/6 Stars): Max Durability: +10
- Terra Affinity Integration (0.5/6 Stars): Earth resistance +2
Whoa.
I stared at the lengthy text window, then back at the spear in my hand. The weight of the makeshift weapon was nothing compared to the thrill of actually creating it. The rough, khaki-colored rod, ending in a broad arrowhead-like point, wasn’t much to look at, but it was mine. The urge to swing it, twirl it, and test its balance was irresistible.
A massive grin spread across my face—creepy, unhinged, and absolutely giddy.
“Nove, do you see this?” I asked, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Yes,” she replied, her tone steady. “We made that.”
But this wasn’t just excitement—it was pure, geeky euphoria. My mind raced with thoughts of this world’s special materials and the endless possibilities they presented. If I could make this rough spear now, what would I be able to do once I got my hands on rare monster parts or fantastical elements? Grinning like a mad scientist unveiling their latest invention, I reveled in the sheer potential.
“I sense that you’re happy,” Nove remarked dryly.
I nodded enthusiastically, like a kid who just unwrapped their dream Christmas present.
Her next words, though, were a bit of a buzzkill. “I don’t want to ruin your mood, but an average Metal Weaver could accomplish the same task you did and end up with a better weapon in less than a second.”
“Yeah, well,” I shot back, unfazed and still grinning, “I’m not just any Metal Weaver—I’m a Metal Weaver with only 2 MV points.”
Take that, average Metal Weavers.
There was a brief silence before Nove spoke again.
“I see. I had not considered that. You are indeed a genius to accomplish so much with the same stat points you had as a child. Congratulations.”
Her tone was… ambiguous. Was that sarcasm? A genuine compliment? Both?
I didn’t care. Fueled by a heady mix of hunger and excitement, I brushed it off without a second thought.
“Thanks, Nove,” I muttered, gripping my makeshift spear and stepping confidently forward.
Without further ado, I descended deeper into the cave, ready to face whatever lay ahead—or at least find something edible before I keeled over.