Translator: CinderTL
"Roland, are you alright?"
Bronson frowned deeply, his gaze fixed on the pale, delicate-featured youth before him.
The throbbing veins on Roland's forehead and his expression of agony were disturbingly familiar. During his years studying at the tower, Bronson had witnessed countless apprentices wearing the same pained expression when their mental energy was exhausted.
As Bronson's voice drew closer, the surrounding clamor gradually flooded Roland's ears.
The youth pressed his temples forcefully, his knuckles white from the strain. Only when the needle-like pain subsided slightly did he manage to lift his head and force a weak smile.
"I-I'm fine, Mr. Bronson."
"Are you sure? You looked..."
"Just... too absorbed in studying the text."
Roland's voice was hoarse and strained, as if each word cost him immense effort.
"I see."
Bronson studied the youth thoughtfully.
Could learning basic writing truly exhaust one's mental energy? The explanation seemed illogical, but he refrained from pressing further, simply patting Roland's shoulder lightly.
"Everyone else has gone to the dining hall. You should go too."
With that, Bronson turned to leave.
"Mr. Bronson, please wait."
Roland struggled to his feet, then pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket. He had already scrambled the characters and copied them onto the cloth, which he slowly extended.
"I still have some characters I don't understand. I'd like to ask you about them."
This was the third consecutive day this scene had played out after class.
Bronson had grown accustomed to it. He took the cloth and began explaining each character one by one.
Despite his lingering headache, Roland remained fully focused, meticulously memorizing each pronunciation and stroke, nodding occasionally to show he understood.
When the explanation was finished, he bowed slightly, offering a respectful bow.
"Thank you, Mr. Bronson."
"You're welcome."
A kind smile softened Bronson's pale face.
"Roland, you're a diligent student. Even if..." He paused briefly. "Even if you didn't pass the Blacksmith Apprentice Assessment this time, as long as you maintain this thirst for knowledge, you're bound to achieve great things in the future."
"I understand. Thank you for your guidance."
After watching Bronson's figure disappear around the corner, Roland let out a long sigh. He dragged his weary body over to the nearest large tree, leaned against it, and slowly slid down to sit on the ground.
When his gaze fell upon the number next to "General Knowledge," his dazed mind snapped awake as if doused with a bucket of ice water.
"How long has it been? Less than five minutes?"
"In just five minutes, my General Knowledge experience points increased by thirty-two!"
Roland savored the extraordinary state he had entered while activating "Focus." He unconsciously licked his chapped lips, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"This state is simply miraculous!"
"Not only does it accelerate knowledge accumulation, but it must also have astonishing effects on learning in other fields. However..."
Remembering the needle-like pain that had pierced his mind earlier, Roland shook his groggy head and let out a soft sigh.
"With my current mental attribute, the duration is far too short. I need to find a way to increase it. But..."
He shook his head, turning his attention back to the crumpled piece of cloth in his hand.
After confirming he had memorized every word on it, the young man slowly pushed himself up, leaning on his knees, and staggered toward the dining hall.
"Better fill my stomach first," he muttered.
For some reason, the emptiness gnawing at his stomach felt more intense than ever before, as if his entire body were screaming with hunger.
The moment he stepped into the dining hall, the rich aroma of meat washed over him.
Roland unconsciously swallowed hard, quickly grabbed a wooden tray, piled it high with food, and sat down on a wooden bench to devour it ravenously.
Only after the burning hunger in his belly gradually subsided did he begin to hear the conversations around him.
"Heavenly Father! Not only is there such a huge chunk of meat today, but a whole bowl of meat broth too! Lord Baron is truly generous! Could it be... we'll get meat every day from now on?"
"Don't get your hopes up. I heard Young Master Darco's mount disobeyed him during a hunt, so he slaughtered it to give us this extra meal."
"Slaughtering a warhorse? Young Master Darco is truly extravagant."
Hearing these words, Roland slowed his eating.
"Darco..."
The name was familiar.
When his original self had been a stable boy—a servant specializing in caring for horses—he had primarily served this noble young master.
Unlike Baron Forslin, who had little interest in martial pursuits, Darco was an avid hunter with an almost obsessive passion for combat and bloodshed.
Though flamboyant in temperament, the young master was unconcerned with formalities and exceptionally generous.
The dozen or so copper coins Roland's original self had saved up were rewards for his diligent care of the horses.
"But none of that matters to me now."
Having purged the original self's memories from his mind, Roland drained the last of the meat broth, let out a satisfied burp, and hurried back to his dormitory.
Due to the mass voluntary withdrawals from the assessment, the once-crowded dormitory was now eerily empty, leaving him as the sole occupant.
After carefully locking the door and confirming no one was around, he cautiously retrieved the bloodstained parchment scroll and the dozen fabric scraps from their hiding place.
Just as he began deciphering the matching characters on the parchment and scraps, a crisp bell suddenly rang out.
It was the signal summoning apprentices to the blacksmith shop.
But for Roland, the bell's call now held no meaning.
Hawk had issued a strict decree:
Those who failed the general knowledge assessment were forbidden from entering the blacksmith shop to practice their craft until they passed a supplementary assessment.
Before he knew it, dusk had quietly fallen.
Roland, drawing on his recent studies and the foundational knowledge he had gleaned from Bronson, finally succeeded in deciphering all the text on the parchment scroll.
"Mithril Body Tempering Technique?"
Roland rubbed his aching eyes, reconfirmed the words on the scroll, and couldn't help but exclaim in astonishment.
"Mithril Body Tempering Technique? This is actually a secret body-refining art?!"
Because of his admiration for the knightly spirit, Sean often shared his knowledge of knighthood with Roland, repeatedly emphasizing the importance of knightly training.
According to his best friend, becoming a true knight required not only cultivating a life seed through breathing techniques but also tempering one's body with either body-refining or body-tempering methods. Neither could be neglected.
Roland had initially dismissed this as absurd nonsense cobbled together from knightly novels, but now he realized it was actually true.
"It seems the bards' tales aren't entirely fabricated," he murmured to himself, his fingertips tracing the faded script on the parchment.
"But thinking about it, even the most fantastical legends must ultimately be rooted in the soil of reality."
After a moment of quiet reflection, Roland lowered his head again, immersing himself in the text of the scroll.
(End of the Chapter)
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