As he completed his first proper stroke, something unexpected happened. A notification appeared in his vision:

[Skill recognized: Blacksmithing]

[Calculating existing experience...]

The hammer nearly fell from Cain's suddenly numb fingers. The system was assessing him, measuring his years of work as if inputting data into a ledger.

[All previous experience recognized and applied]

[Level 10 in Blacksmithing Achieved - 10 uncommon gem acquired]

[Blacksmithing Level Adjusted: Novice → Apprentice]

[Level 50 in Blacksmithing Achieved - 5 rare gem acquired]

[Blacksmithing Level Adjusted: Apprentice → Adept]

[Level 100 in Blacksmithing Achieved - 3 epic gem acquired ]

[Blacksmithing Level Adjusted: Adept → Expert]

[Level 200 in Blacksmithing Achieved - 2 legendary gem acquired]

[Blacksmithing Level Adjusted: Expert → Master]

[Level 300 in Blacksmithing Achieved - 1 mythic gem acquired]

[Max level reached. Please find a Grandmaster to advance next]

Master blacksmith? He had always considered himself merely an apprentice, learning gradually under his father's tutelage. Yet the system recognized something different—the thousands of hours, the countless blades forged, the meticulous attention to detail that had become second nature.

As he stood frozen in amazement, more notifications appeared:

[Character Level Updated: 1 → 10]

[4 Skill Points Available]

[45 Attribute Point Available]

[Stats Adjusted Based on Recognized Skills]

Strength: 50 (+40 profession)

Dexterity: 34 (+24 profession)

Constitution: 28 (+18 profession)

Intelligence: 20 (+10 profession)

Wisdom: 18 (+8 profession)

[Max level reached for this zone. You cannot get more experience here.]

Name: Cain

Level: 10

Race: Human - Native

Job: Blacksmith (Master)

Class: n/a

[Primary Stats]

HP: 140/140

Mana: 90/90

Strength: 50

Dexterity: 34

Constitution: 28

Intelligence: 20

Wisdom: 18

Cain stared at the notifications, his mind struggling to comprehend their meaning. He had gained levels simply by having his existing abilities recognized by the system. Years of labor had translated into immediate advancement, bypassing the gradual progression Adventurers experienced.

"I've been a master blacksmith all along," he whispered to himself, "and never knew it."

The realization was both empowering and unsettling. How many other Natives possessed skills that would translate to high levels if only they could access the system as he now did? Was his father, whose craftsmanship far exceeded his own, actually a legendary-class blacksmith by the system's standards?

As he studied the floating information, Cain noticed a pattern in the numbers. His Constitution was 28, and his HP was exactly 140—five times his Constitution score. Similarly, his Wisdom of 18 aligned perfectly with his Mana pool of 90. "Five points per attribute," he murmured, running his finger along the translucent display. This knowledge felt important somehow, though he wasn't sure yet how he might use it.

With newfound awareness, Cain regarded the simple sword he was working on. His perception of the metal had changed—he could see stress points, optimal striking locations, the precise temperature required for perfect folding. Knowledge he had absorbed through years of observation and practice was now consciously accessible, enhanced by the system's recognition.

He set back to work, each strike now deliberate and informed by his newly quantified expertise. The unfinished sword transformed more quickly under his hands, the quality visibly improving with each precisely placed hammer blow.

[Blacksmithing Skill in use]

[+0 XP gained - Max level for zone reached]

Experience points. He could earn experience points, just like an Adventurer. The implications staggered him.

Cain continued working, his mind racing with possibilities. He was still Cain the blacksmith's son, still a Native of Woodhaven.

But he was also something more. Something new. Something the system itself had struggled to categorize.

Cain continued working, his mind racing with possibilities. The sword began taking form beneath his newly recognized mastery, transforming from simple metal into something with potential beyond what he'd crafted before.

Then, without warning, a system message appeared in bold, pulsing text that filled his vision:

[SYSTEM ANOMALY DETECTED]

[NEW DAWN PROTOCOL INITIATED]

[VILLAGE-WIDE RESET IMMINENT]

"No!" Cain gasped, dropping his hammer with a clatter. "No, no, no!"

The New Dawn—the reset that would erase memories, restore the village, and return everything to its predetermined state. The very process that had taken his memories of EmberHeart, of the Crimson Grins raid, of everything that lay outside his narrowly defined existence.

He couldn't lose it all again. Not now. Not when he'd finally begun to understand what he truly was.

"Please," he whispered to the system, though he had no idea if it could hear him. "Don't take this from me."

Blue light began to emanate from the central shrine, washing over Woodhaven in waves exactly as it had after the raid. Buildings shimmered, minor damage repaired itself, scattered items returned to their proper places. Through the forge window, Cain could see villagers pausing in their activities, expressions going blank as the New Dawn reset their experiences and memories.

He braced himself for oblivion, for the dissolution of his newfound awareness. Would he wake tomorrow as merely Cain the blacksmith's apprentice again, the revelation of his true capabilities wiped clean from his mind?

The blue light reached the forge, flowing through the door like water, engulfing everything in its radiance. It washed over the anvil, the weapons racks, the glowing coals.

It touched Cain's feet, then flowed... around him.

Like water parting around a stone in a stream, the blue light of the New Dawn divided as it reached him, rejoining on the other side without ever touching his body. He stood in a perfect bubble of unchanged reality while the world reset itself around him.

[ANOMALY MAINTAINS INTEGRITY]

[ENTITY 'CAIN' EXEMPTED FROM NEW DAWN PROTOCOL]

[RESET CONTINUING FOR ALL STANDARD ENTITIES]

The blue light faded gradually, withdrawing back toward the shrine until Woodhaven stood bathed in normal afternoon sunlight once again. Cain remained frozen in place, hardly daring to move, to speak, to think.

Had it worked? Was he unchanged? Or would the reset take effect when he moved, when he spoke, when he interacted with the newly restored world?

Cautiously, he picked up his hammer. The interface still showed its properties when he focused on it. The health bar still glowed in the corner of his vision. The quest notification for the Observer's meeting still pulsed gently at the periphery of his awareness.

Most importantly, he remembered everything. The achievement notification in the square. The system recognizing his blacksmithing mastery. The raid. EmberHeart. All of it remained intact, preserved despite the New Dawn's passage.

"I'm immune," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. The realization hit him like a physical blow, sending him staggering back against the anvil. "The reset doesn't affect me anymore."

Tears welled in his eyes—tears of relief, of grief, of a profound understanding that crashed over him in waves. Every lost memory, every erased experience, every death and rebirth that had been wiped clean before he could process it—all of that suffering had ended. He would never again wake to find pieces of himself missing, connections severed, growth undone.

Through the forge window, he could see villagers resuming their activities as if nothing had happened—because for them, nothing had. His mother guided newcomers by the well, speaking the same practiced words she had spoken countless times before. Guards patrolled identical routes. Merchants arranged their wares in perfect symmetry to yesterday, and the day before, and a thousand days before that.

The New Dawn had scrubbed their experiences clean, returning them to their baseline state while Cain alone retained continuity.

The door opened, and his father entered, exactly as he had earlier that day before Cain had gone to the square. The sight of Edric—reset, reverted, his memories of the morning's events completely erased—sent a pang of something like grief through Cain's heart.

"We need ten shortswords and at least six daggers ready by midday," Edric announced, as if for the first time. "The last batch of Adventurers cleared our inventory yesterday."

Cain had to turn away, unable to bear the vacant familiarity in his father's eyes. This was Edric, but not the Edric who had been with him just hours ago. That version of his father was gone, erased by The Divine Laws, replaced with this reset iteration who remembered nothing of the morning's events, nothing beyond his programmed purpose.

"Yes, Father," Cain replied, his voice thick with emotion he struggled to suppress. "I'll start right away."

Edric paused, studying his son's face with confusion. "Are you unwell? Your eyes are red."

Even now, some echo of parental concern remained in his programming. The irony of it twisted in Cain's chest like a knife.

"Just smoke from the forge," he lied, the first deliberate untruth he could remember telling his father. "I'm fine."

Edric nodded and moved to his own workstation, oblivious to the monumental shift that had occurred in his son's existence.

As Cain returned to his work, the full weight of his unique position settled upon him with crushing force. He alone in all of Woodhaven could remember. He alone could see the truth of their existence. He alone remained unchanged while everyone he had ever known or loved reset like figures in a clockwork display.

The isolation of that knowledge was almost unbearable. His mother and father would never truly know him now—not the him that grew and changed and remembered. Each day they would see the son they expected to see, unable to perceive the expanding gulf between what he was and what they could comprehend.

Yet with that isolation came something precious beyond measure: freedom. Freedom from the endless cycle of repetition that bound the other Natives. Freedom to learn and grow without having that growth constantly erased. Freedom to become more than his programming dictated.