Chapter 1

Five Years After the Tokyo Dungeon Incident, I’m Making a Fortune Supporting Guilds as a “Relic Repair Specialist”

Five years ago, “Dungeons” appeared all over the world, and humanity awakened to “Skills.”
I, Kirishima, am an F-rank Awakener with zero combat ability.
But I do have one unique skill — [Repair] — that lets me restore “Relics (Artifacts)” found in dungeons.

A broken magic sword wielded by an S-rank attacker, a shattered healing orb used by an A-rank healer—

“Kirishima-kun, without this, we can’t keep raiding!”

“Alright, that’ll be ten million yen for the repair. Materials not included. Fastest turnaround: three days.”

My workshop, “Repair Works,” is booming as always.
While the top guilds handle the fighting, I stay safe in the rear and rake in the cash.
Now even nations and foreign guilds are starting to move—

“Secure Kirishima!”

But all I really want… is a quiet life fixing things.

I’m Kirishima Haruto, 22 years old, F-rank Awakener.
My job: Relic (Artifact) Repair Specialist.
As usual, I’m sitting safely behind the counter of my workshop, Repair Works, watching a dungeon raid livestream on my PC.

On-screen, the elite members of Japan’s strongest guild, Silver Wings, were taking on a deep-floor boss.
The comment feed flew by at a ridiculous speed.

(Whoa, that attack’s insane…)

An S-rank attacker’s strike obliterated a swarm of A-rank monsters.
Flashing lights, roaring explosions, magic energy bursting in every direction—
Truly, modern-day heroes.

It’s been five years since dungeons appeared across the globe.
Humanity awakened to mysterious powers called “Skills.”
Everyone over ten years old, without exception.

The world changed overnight.
To fight back against the monsters spilling out of dungeons, people formed “Guilds” of Awakeners.
They risk their lives delving into the depths, slaying monsters, and bringing back materials and relics.
Those relics—artifacts born of the dungeon—possessed incredible power.

Swords that breathe fire.
Orbs that heal wounds.
Against monsters immune to modern weapons, relics are humanity’s trump card.
Awakeners fight day and night, armed with their skills and relics.

Naturally, I’m an Awakener too.
But my appraisal result: bottom of the barrel—F-rank.
No combat skills, no noteworthy stats.
Barely tougher than an average guy.

So yeah, I watch streams.
The frontlines are a death sentence for someone like me.
Even for a billion yen an hour, I wouldn’t go.
My motto is simple: earn safely from the rear.

And that’s exactly what I do with my [Repair] skill.
Officially classified as “F-rank (Junk Restoration).”
As the name suggests, it’s supposed to fix broken junk.
… At least, that’s what the Dungeon Bureau thinks.

Reality’s a bit different.
My [Repair] can restore dungeon relics.
As far as I know, I’m the only one in the world who can.

Relics are powerful but degrade over time.
Damage accumulates, they crack, get corrupted by mana, and stop working entirely.
Once broken, no modern science or magic can fix them.
That’s the accepted truth.

Except for me.

(Alright, what do we have today…)

I clicked open my job management dashboard.
Zero requests. Figures.

It’s only been a month since I opened Repair Works.
Who’d believe an F-rank Awakener claiming he can fix relics?
The few who came were minor adventurers—stuff like “My charm knife chipped.”

(No point rushing it.)

I still had savings.
The workshop used to be my late grandfather’s factory, so there’s no rent.
I could afford to take it easy.

Or so I thought—until the bell on the door jingled.

Clang.

“Welcome—”

I looked up lazily from behind the counter.
And froze.

A woman stood there—
Dressed in immaculate white combat gear, a sword at her hip, long black hair tied in a high ponytail, and sharp crimson eyes that could cut steel.
Her presence radiated raw power.
Even from a glance, I could tell—this was no ordinary person.

Hinomiya Reika.
The same woman I’d just seen on the livestream—
The ace of Silver Wings, Japan’s strongest guild.
An S-rank attacker, in the flesh.

(Why the hell is she in my dump of a workshop…?)

Her gaze swept over the cluttered room—old tools, worn benches, nothing high-tech in sight.

“So this is Repair Works.”

She said in a calm, low voice.

I scrambled to my feet.

“Y-yes! That’s right!”

“You’re the proprietor—Kirishima?”

“Yes, Kirishima Haruto.”

Reika studied my face, then glanced at my F-rank status plate.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips—probably disappointment.

“… Let’s skip the small talk.”

She set down a heavy metal case on the counter.
It clanged ominously.
When she opened it—my breath caught.

Inside lay a broken sword, snapped clean in half.
The remaining blade was riddled with cracks, leaking faint waves of magic.

“S-rank magic sword, Flametongue. It broke during a deep-floor raid.”

“S-rank…?”

I swallowed hard.
It was the first time I’d seen one in person, even damaged.
The energy radiating from it was unreal.

“I went to every major workshop in Tokyo. Even Kurogane Works.”

(Kurogane Works—that B-rank blacksmith shop?)

“They all said the same thing: ‘Unrepairable.’
But you—
You’re the only one registered as ‘capable of relic restoration.’”

Her crimson eyes bored into mine.

“Can you fix it, F-rank?”

It wasn’t just a question—it was a challenge.
If I said no, she’d walk out without another word.
I picked up the broken sword carefully.
Cold to the touch, but burning with mana within.

(Yeah… I can do this.)

I looked her in the eye.

“I can. My skill’s only listed as F-rank [Repair]—but it’s enough.”

“…!”

Her eyes widened slightly.
I moved the sword to the workbench and mentally listed the materials I’d need.
To restore a magic sword like this, I’d need a high-heat conductor—A-rank Flame Dragon Scales—and powdered B-rank Magistone as a mana stabilizer.
Luckily, I had both in stock.

“The material cost’s not cheap. That alright?”

“No matter. If you succeed, name your price.”

“Got it.”

I pulled down my mana-sensing goggles.
Through them, I could see the sword’s mana circuits—damaged, leaking energy like a sieve.
My job: seal the leak, reconnect the circuits.

I held out my hands over the blade.
Focused my mana.
And activated my skill.

“[Repair].”

On paper, a worthless F-rank skill.
In truth, it’s “conceptual restoration”—
It defines the target’s ideal form and forcibly reconstructs it with mana and materials.
An EX-tier ability, masquerading as junk.

A pale light flowed from my palms, enveloping the broken edge.
The dragon scales and magistone powder dissolved into the glow.
Metal groaned and reformed, piece by piece.
Heat pulsed through the sword like it was coming alive again.

My MP drained fast—S-rank relics are mana hogs.

(Almost there… just a little more…!)

The final crack sealed, circuits reconnected, and—

A blinding flash filled the workshop.
Reika shielded her eyes with her arm.

When the light faded, the sword on the table was whole again.
Perfectly restored—its blade gleaming with a soft, flickering flame.

“... Impossible,” she whispered.

Her hands trembled as she picked it up.
Whoosh!—the sword flared with renewed fire.

“It’s fixed… no, even more than that—!”

She turned to me, eyes wide.

“The mana output is higher than before it broke!”

“Ah, that’s on the house.”

I said, taking off my goggles.

“I cleaned out the mana flow too. You’re just seeing its full potential.”

Truthfully, my [Repair] adds a faint enchantment boost.
Barely noticeable—but still there.

Reika stared at the sword, then at me.
Finally, she sheathed it and let out a long breath.

“… How much?”

“Yes.”

I tapped on my terminal and printed the invoice.

“Repair fee: ten million yen.
Material cost—A-rank dragon scales, B-rank magistone—five million.
Total: fifteen million yen.”

“... Fifteen million.”

She repeated, stunned.
Even for an S-rank, that’s no pocket change.

“Too steep?”

“… No.”

She shook her head.

“Without this sword, our deep-floor progress would’ve stalled for three months. Fifteen million is cheap.”

Without hesitation, she transferred the funds.
My phone chimed—a fresh deposit.
Seven digits.
My biggest payday ever.

(Yes!)

More than enough for upgrades and savings.
The first step toward my comfy fortress life.

As I quietly celebrated, I noticed Reika still staring at me—intently.

“Kirishima Haruto.”

“Y-yes?”

“I’ll be testing you again soon.”

“... Huh?”

Testing me? For what?
But before I could ask, she turned on her heel and left.
The bell jingled behind her.

Like a storm come and gone.
I checked my account—fifteen million, confirmed.

“… Well, whatever.”

I’ll pass on any trouble—but I’ll take the money.
Humming to myself, I turned back to my screen, blissfully unaware of the storm those words were about to bring.

What do you think about this chapter?