Sword Art Online: Moonlight Swordman.

"…Hey, Ren."

Aisen suddenly spoke, his low voice cutting through the soft howling of the wind outside the tent. Ren was curled up in a thin blanket, eyes half-closed, on the verge of sleep.

"No one's ever told you… you'd look more handsome if you tied your hair up?"

Ren didn't respond. Not because he was embarrassed or didn't hear. It was just… ever since stepping into this tent, Aisen hadn't stopped rambling, from alcohol, to the furnace, and now to hairstyles.

He really, really just wanted to sleep.

Aisen shifted a bit, the straw bed rustling beneath his back. "Hey… asleep already?"

No answer.

Only Ren's soft, even breathing remained, and the faint glow of dying embers in the furnace.

Aisen let out a quiet sigh and pulled the thin blanket up over his chest. A long silence passed before he whispered, as if unsure whether he wanted to be heard at all.

"…But tomorrow… promise me you'll wake up, okay… don't be like the others."

Aisen closed his eyes. The final ember died out. In the darkness, no one could see the shadow that passed over his face.

.....

The next morning, Ren woke up very early, stirred by the muffled sound of footsteps outside, the clinking of armor, the flapping of the tent fabric in the wind, and the cool mist seeping through every gap.

He blinked a few times, then slowly sat up, the dry straw beneath him crackling. The dim morning light filtered through the tent walls, casting everything in soft gray silhouettes through the fog.

At that moment, a figure pushed the tent flap aside and stepped in.

"Awake already?" Aisen's raspy voice rang out. He was back in his scout armor, though his cloak was still unfastened. In his hand was a small bag made of rough leather.

He tossed it lightly toward Ren.

"Breakfast. Eat, then come outside."

Ren caught the bag and opened it. Inside were a few dry biscuits, some wild berries, and a bit of dried meat. Not much, but enough to stave off hunger on a cold morning like this.

"When'd you get up?" Ren asked, still groggy.

"Didn't sleep," Aisen replied flatly, squatting by the edge of the tent.

While tying his boots, Aisen spoke in a steady voice, like reciting a morning bulletin:

"Consider yourself lucky. The Forest Elves haven't been moving much lately. Doesn't look like they're planning a major attack yet."

Ren didn't respond, just raised an eyebrow. He bit into a piece of dried meat, chewing slowly as if weighing whether that so-called "luck" was truly good news.

Aisen glanced over. Seeing that reaction, he just let out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his mouth curling into a vague smile.

"…Anyway, I just found your first mission."

Ren paused, looking up at him.

Aisen raised two fingers and flicked them lightly through the air as if reading an invisible quest log:

"Simple stuff, eliminate the venomous spiders blocking our scouts. The Nephila Spiders have made nests in the northern forest, and the scouts won't pass through."

He paused, eyes shifting toward Ren, his voice dropping lower:

"Your job is to clear them out and bring back a few venomous claws as proof. Sounds easy, but it won't be pleasant."

Ren nodded silently, hand tightening around the sword sheath beside him.

Aisen continued, his gaze sharp as a blade:

"I'm coming with you. Either way, I need to see what you're capable of… if you actually plan to stick around this camp longer than a few breakfasts."

"But you expect me to go fight a bunch of Nephila Spiders… dressed like this?" Ren frowned, glancing down at the tunic he was wearing, it didn't even offer any armor stats.

He didn't have a single proper set of gear.

He went quiet for a moment, then spoke again, his voice lower, more serious than usual.

"I'm not going to risk my life fighting same-level monsters… while practically naked. Especially not when you just said they're venomous, right?"

Aisen chuckled softly, as if he'd anticipated that reaction.

"Exactly. Nephila Spiders, their venom doesn't kill instantly, but it paralyzes long enough to make you lunch."

He stood, brushing off his hands, then shot a half-lidded glance at Ren.

"But relax, I'm not dumb enough to throw you in and leave you. I'll be with you, and…"

He pulled a small cloth-wrapped bundle from a leather pouch and tossed it to Ren.

"…a bit of antidote."

"I almost forgot," Aisen sighed, sitting down on a rock beside the gear pile, "aside from the elite scouts specially trained by the Lyusula Kingdom, no one else has any poison resistance skills."

He pulled a small glass vial from his coat pocket. The liquid inside shimmered a deep green, and he lightly tossed it to Ren.

"So I didn't bring much antidote. This one, I managed to 'borrow' from a few soldiers yesterday. Keep it, you'll need it."

Ren caught the vial, brows slightly furrowed.

"What if we run out?"

"You can still resist poison, with a special piece of equipment or some rare skill," Aisen said with a shrug, voice calm. "But those things aren't common. And even if you have one, it comes with limits."

Ren stayed silent. He understood the implication behind Aisen's words: he didn't have any of that.

Aisen gave a faint smile, as if reading his thoughts.

"And if you're thinking of learning a poison resistance skill…" he tilted his head, locking eyes with Ren, "…then forget it. Trust me, you don't want to go through that."

"Why not?"

"Because the system only unlocks it when you've been poisoned continuously over a long period," Aisen said as he slowly stood up, adjusting the strap of his shirt. "You have to endure at least thirty minutes of paralysis, nausea, and periodic HP loss... and the poison level needs to increase over time."

He glanced sideways, his voice casual, but his eyes were deadly serious.

"Usually... people don't survive past the tenth minute."

"As for armor..." Aisen clicked his tongue, eyes lighting up like he just had an idea. "I think I've got a solution. Follow me."

He didn't wait for Ren to nod. Grabbing the boy by the collar, he dragged him straight through the uneven dirt paths of the camp, not even sparing a glance at the bewildered expression trailing behind.

"I've got some connections with the local blacksmith here," Aisen said while walking briskly. "He was one of the apprentices of the most famous master smith in the kingdom of Lyusula. And I... have a fair bit of respect for his craft."

Before Ren could ask anything, they stopped in front of an old wooden shack, smoke-stained and dotted with embedded steel rivets.

Without a word, Aisen lifted his leg and kicked the wooden door hard, making it slam open with a loud bang.

"We've got company," he announced nonchalantly, then turned and winked at Ren like this was all perfectly normal.

Inside, the shack was a cluttered but warm space, scattered with forging tools, charred metal plates leaning against the walls, and a furnace blazing red in one corner.

The air was thick with the scent of hot iron and burning resin, as if the entire place was caught mid-experiment.

Standing at the anvil was a young Dark Elf man, his platinum hair tied back with a few loose strands falling over his forehead.

The firelight cast a glow on his ashen-gray skin, making his piercing blue eyes stand out even more. His gaze was sharp, slightly impatient, but not outright hostile.

"You bastard. How many times have I told you not to bother me when I'm working?" he growled, eyes narrowed, hammer still pounding down on a glowing piece of metal. "One day I'm gonna charge you for that damn door."

"Your door's too weak. I'm just testing its durability," Aisen replied dryly, then nudged Ren inside. "Got something important. Need light, flexible armor, give me the best thing you've got. Doesn't have to be pretty."

"Not pretty?" The blacksmith stopped, turning to scan Ren from head to toe. "That's tough. I don't make ugly gear."

Ren blinked in surprise. The guy looked younger than he expected, more like an artist than a burly hammer-swinger.

"This guy's name is...?"

"Ren," Aisen answered for him. "He's tagging along with me for the venom spider job. Nothing special, but he listens."

The blacksmith crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Don't have anything ready. But... I made one piece back when I was still on Floor 10. I was an apprentice then, so it's not my best work."

He walked over to a corner of the room, where the furnace light cast flickering shadows across soot-stained walls and the sharp tang of metal hung in the air.

Pulling out a dusty old wooden chest, he knelt down and began rummaging in silence. The clinks of metal echoed like some kind of impromptu symphony.

Finally, he pulled out a chestplate, pitch-black steel, without ornament or shine, the matte finish radiating a chilling sense of durability and pure function.

He handed it to Ren with no sales pitch, no flourish, just two blunt words:

"Try it."

Ren accepted the chestplate. Though it appeared to be a single slab of metal, the system quickly scanned it and displayed the full model of a lightweight armor set, compressed within the chestpiece. It was an integrated design, only activating when equipped.

He skimmed the stats that appeared in the corner of his interface:

[Blacksteel Prototype]Type: Light ArmorDurability: 430 / 430HP: +600STR: +10Physical Defense: +250Piercing Resistance: +40-4 AGI (can be reduced based on VIT)

Equip Requirement:Lv.10VIT: 25

Ren held his breath.

His eyes widened. It felt like someone had taken a sword hilt and slammed it right into his forehead.

Stats like this... on Floor 3?

He looked down at the armor again, as if to confirm it wasn't some kind of display bug. No...the system didn't make mistakes.

This thing was too powerful. Too sharp. Every steel vein, every hand-forged detail bore the unmistakable mark of a craftsmanship that didn't belong in the lower floors.

From what he knew, the Dark Elves stationed here were part of a special deployment, they came from the upper floors. Their main base... was Floor 10.

Which meant this...

He swallowed.

Forged by a blacksmith from Floor 10?