Translator: CinderTL
[You have successfully completed a basic swordsmanship training session, earning two experience points.]
[Basic swordsmanship has reached maximum level.]
Roland wiped the sweat from his brow, his lips curving into a slight smile as he stared at the floating notification.
Unlike the forging skill, which required level three to reach its maximum, basic swordsmanship was perhaps too simple, capped at level two.
Thanks to the Combat Readiness trait, a single day of relentless practice had allowed him to reach the skill's peak.
"Even at max level, it's still just basic swordsmanship," Roland murmured, swinging his wooden sword lightly to feel the changes brought by the skill's mastery.
"With my current swordsmanship, I'm probably only slightly better than a militia member who's had some basic training. But at least I can defend myself now."
As he was still savoring the breakthrough in his swordsmanship, heavy footsteps approached from behind.
Turning, he saw Sean approaching, carrying two gray coarse-cloth robes and two sheathed iron swords.
"Buddy! Everything's ready, just like you asked!"
After receiving the items, Roland swiftly donned the robe and hung the iron sword at his waist.
The robe's wide hem perfectly concealed the weapon's outline, achieving the exact effect he desired.
This village near the Black Cedar Forest was a melting pot of characters, often frequented by mercenaries with a keen eye for profit.
An iron sword of considerable value would be enough to tempt these desperate individuals to take reckless risks.
Wrapping the sword in rough cloth had proven insufficient. This seemingly ordinary attire now allowed him to access his weapon at a moment's notice while avoiding unnecessary trouble.
"Have you said goodbye to your family?"
"I told my father, but Uncle Peyton still hasn't returned. That's normal, though—he often stays out all night."
The two walked along the village path, chatting as they went, and soon reached the village entrance.
Winter sunlight filtered through bare branches, casting dappled shadows across the muddy path.
Not far behind them, a figure quietly emerged.
"Looks like it's him."
Sam squinted, repeatedly comparing the portrait to the young man's profile ahead. He instinctively patted the coin pouch at his waist.
"If I complete this deal, combined with my savings from these past years, it should be enough to purchase the medicinal herbs I need. Then..."
His breath quickened involuntarily as he thought about it, and he quickened his pace to catch up.
On the tree-lined path leading to the Baron's Manor, Sean enthusiastically shared his plans for after joining the army. Roland nodded along, secretly calculating his own plans.
"Now that I've mastered basic swordsmanship, perhaps I should consider learning other skills."
"But training at the training grounds is far too expensive. Even if I pass the assessment to become a blacksmith apprentice, it will take a long time to save enough money."
He stroked the hilt of his sword, a hint of regret in his eyes.
"It's a pity learning from Peyton costs five silver coins. I don't have that much right now. As for forging another weapon as a gift... Mr. Hawk probably wouldn't approve."
"I can't neglect my strength training either. I need to hurry up and switch to being a blacksmith..."
As he pondered, Roland's ears twitched slightly.
A sharp crack of a snapping twig suddenly came from behind him.
Beyond the rhythmic footsteps of the two men, a third, deliberately softened set of footsteps was clearly audible.
Feigning to adjust his collar, Roland glanced back out of the corner of his eye as he turned.
A tall figure was following them at a leisurely pace, about twenty paces behind.
"Sean," Roland suddenly interrupted his companion's incessant chatter, pressing a hand on his shoulder and lowering his voice. "I think someone's following us."
Sean instinctively turned his head, but Roland gripped his wrist firmly.
"Don't look back."
Forced to stare rigidly ahead, Sean's tone remained dismissive. "You're being paranoid, buddy. This road always has plenty of people on it."
Roland subtly quickened his pace, his lips barely moving as he whispered, "Listen carefully. Just in case, we'll do this."
After a hurried exchange, the two men abruptly surged forward, veering sharply into the dense forest lining the road.
Sam, who had been trailing them from a distance, froze for a moment before hurrying after them.
As he pushed aside the tangled branches, a voice suddenly echoed in his ear.
"Sir, are you following us?"
Roland stared intently at the tall, gaunt man before him, his brow furrowing deeper.
That face... I've seen it somewhere before.
"You actually noticed me?" Sam grinned, showing no sign of panic. "Not bad for a kid."
He casually brushed leaves off his clothes, his tone as relaxed as if discussing the weather.
"Since you've caught me, I'll be straight with you. Someone's paying for your arm."
Sam drew two rusty daggers from his belt, flipping them between his fingers with practiced ease.
"Will you do it yourself, or shall I lend a hand?"
In a flash, Roland had a good idea who was behind this. After all, since arriving in this world, he'd only made an enemy of Marco.
"Just accept your fate," Sam sneered. "It's just an arm, not your life."
Seeing Roland frozen in place, Sam chuckled. "A bit clever, but still just a scared little boy. This job's going to be easy."
With that thought, he slowly advanced.
Just then, Roland roared, "Sean!"
The moment Sam's ears caught the shout, a cold wind rose behind his head.
Years of living by the sword kicked in instinctively, and he dove to the side, rolling away.
Bang!
An iron sword slammed into the spot where he'd just been standing, sending grass clippings flying.
"Damn it!" Sam spat, his pupils narrowing. "These brats actually have weapons!"
Ignoring the mercenary's shocked expression, Sean launched the first attack, swinging his sword two-handed like a battleaxe.
Seeing this, Sam immediately raised his dagger to parry.
The next instant, a violent numbness shot through his hand.
"Not bad for strength," the mercenary sneered, preparing to sidestep the blow. "Too bad such wild swings wouldn't last three breaths on a battlefield!"
Just then, a flash of cold light caught the corner of his eye.
Shing!
Roland's blade, gleaming with icy light, struck from the side in a sudden ambush, instantly slashing a deep gash across Sam's right arm.
"You little bastard!"
Pain surged through Sam's body, and his eyes blazed with fury. He spun around with a vicious kick, forcing Roland back, then lunged like a venomous snake, his dagger aimed at Sean's wrist.
Sean frantically raised his iron sword to parry, but Sam suddenly twisted his wrist, trapping the blade.
With a brutal knee strike, Sean grunted and collapsed to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp and plunging into the pile of decaying leaves.
"Your turn, smartass."
Sam shook his bleeding arm, the stinging pain making his temples throb.
In that split second, Roland's sword tip was already three inches from Sam's forehead.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A shower of sparks erupted in the dense forest.
Strange, this guy's strength seems about equal to mine?
Even as the thought crossed his mind, Roland's attacks never faltered, each strike aimed precisely at vital points like the throat and heart.
How is this kid's swordsmanship so refined?
Sam grew increasingly astonished with each exchange.
Blood continued to gush from the wound on his right arm with every clash, and his dagger groaned under the relentless pressure of the iron sword, forcing him to retreat repeatedly.
Damn it.
Blood loss began to darken the edges of Sam's vision. When his back slammed against an oak tree, he finally snapped in fury.
I have to end this quickly!
Having reached this conclusion, Sam deliberately left an opening.
As Roland thrust his sword forward, Sam suddenly lunged forward, his dagger transforming into a cold flash of light aimed straight at the youth's heart.
Clang!
A crisp metallic sound rang out, and Sam's eyes widened in shock.
The tip of his dagger had struck something hard and metallic.
Yet a warm liquid gushed from his throat.
"You..."
Sam clutched his bleeding throat and collapsed to his knees, struggling to look up at the youth before him.
The stench of rotting earth suddenly intensified.
He recalled the first wild wolf he had hunted in the Black Cedar Forest twenty years ago.
The beast's eyes had been just as dark and gleaming as Roland's pupils now.
(End of the Chapter)
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