Translator: CinderTL
System Check: Eligible to apply for the advanced class Enchanter.
Requirements: Strength 4, Agility 3, Spirit 7, Lv.MAX Basic Forging Technique, Lv.MAX Basic Magic Theory, 0/300 Spell Pattern Inscriptions on equipment.
Host does not meet the requirements.
"My Strength and Agility are both sufficient, plus..."
Roland's gaze fell on the Job Panel, where his Spirit attribute had reached a remarkable 8.3. A satisfied smile couldn't help but spread across his lips.
"My Spirit attribute far exceeds the requirements. Now I just need two Lv.MAX skills and 300 Spell Pattern Inscriptions."
"Once I return to the manor, I'll have to redouble my efforts to hone my skills and strive to become an Enchanter as soon as possible!"
Having made up his mind, Roland carefully reviewed his increasingly detailed Job Panel one last time before finally washing up and going to bed, feeling completely satisfied.
Lying on the soft bed, he watched the bright moonlight streaming through the window.
Gazing at the night outside, Roland's thoughts drifted away.
"It's been almost a year since I transmigrated to this world..."
"In less than a year, I've transformed from a defenseless commoner into a powerful warrior with extraordinary abilities."
"With my current strength, I should be more than capable of defending myself as long as I don't encounter extreme circumstances or transcendent professionals. So what's next?"
Recalling the events of the past year, Roland exhaled deeply.
"Perhaps I should consider taking the Blacksmith's Guild assessment and leaving the Golden Valley Kingdom to search for the Knight's Breathing Technique elsewhere."
"But Master Hawk said I need two guild members to recommend me before I can even take the assessment. Besides Master Hawk, I don't know any other blacksmiths... Never mind, I'll figure this out when I return to the manor."
With that thought, Roland slowly closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
For the next two days, Roland didn't go out to practice Fire Arrow. Instead, he locked himself in his spacious room, focusing on adapting to the new traits and enhancements he'd gained from becoming a Juggler.
Swish!
The iron sword sliced through the air, flashing silver.
Midway through the horizontal slash, Roland narrowed his eyes and abruptly twisted his wrist and elbow, reversing the sword's momentum at an incredibly tricky angle.
In an instant, the horizontal slash transformed into a sharp upward thrust.
Just as the momentum of the iron sword was waning, the dagger in his left hand struck out like a venomous snake.
The two weapons moved with completely different rhythms.
The nimble dagger, accompanied by a heavy gust of wind, clashed with the iron sword, which, though meant to be steady, moved with lightning speed.
Finally, the two weapons crossed in mid-air, both aimed precisely at the throat of Roland's imaginary enemy.
Whoosh
After retracting his stance, Roland wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"The effects of Twin Performance and Steel Heart Resonance are even more potent than I anticipated. As for Dazzling Charm... I haven't had a chance to test it yet. I wonder how effective it will be in actual combat."
Lost in thought, he heard a shout from outside the window.
"Roland!"
Looking out, he saw Darco standing in the courtyard. He was dressed in a meticulously tailored dark blue velvet jacket with silver thread embroidery on the collar and cuffs, paired with a snow-white lace shirt underneath. A jeweled belt cinched his waist, and he wore crisp black riding breeches and polished leather boots. In the sunlight, he looked exceptionally elegant and noble, completely devoid of the slovenly air he had carried just days ago.
"Come down, Roland!"
Darco held up a bundle in his hands, waving his arm vigorously and shouting up to his friend on the upper floor.
"I brought your clothes!"
Hearing this, Roland sighed, running a hand over his forehead in exasperation.
"If I'm changing clothes, shouldn't you be the one to come up?"
"Oh! Right!"
Darco finally realized his mistake, scratching his head awkwardly before disappearing from Roland's sight.
A moment later, a knock sounded at the door.
"When does the banquet start?" Roland asked as he accepted the bundle from Darco.
"Noon," Darco replied, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. "After you're done changing, we can still stroll around outside for a bit before heading to the banquet."
Roland nodded and spread the bundle on the wooden table.
Unlike Darco's meticulously tailored noble attire, Roland's clothes as a servant were much simpler—a dark gray formal suit.
The short, sharply cut jacket lacked elaborate embroidery, with only a subtle silver trim along the collar and cuffs.
Underneath, Roland wore a creamy linen shirt paired with a dark brown leather belt.
His trousers were straight-legged and the same color as his jacket, worn with plain brown ankle boots.
Though not extravagant, the outfit was made of quality materials and exuded a subtle, understated elegance in its details.
Roland didn't say a word. He quickly changed, smoothed out his clothes, and turned to Darco.
"How do I look?"
"Tsk."
Darco didn't answer immediately. Instead, he circled Roland, his gaze sweeping over the young man's upright posture.
His broad shoulders gave the simple jacket a sharp, defined shape, while the belt accentuated his muscular waistline.
Sunlight streamed in from the window, gilding Roland's chiseled profile with a golden halo, even making the plain linen shirt seem luxurious.
Darco sighed and slumped lazily onto a wooden chair.
"Seriously," he said, pouting and drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the armrest. "If someone who didn't know us saw this, they'd probably mistake you for the young noble and me for the attendant."
Roland glanced down at his carefully chosen velvet jacket, suddenly finding the intricate silver thread embroidery utterly ridiculous.
He instinctively tugged at his collar, his voice laced with barely concealed bitterness.
"This outfit looks even more dignified on you than my own attire."
Roland shook his head helplessly and gently patted Darco's shoulder.
"Don't joke like that."
With that, he naturally draped an arm around the young noble's shoulders and led him toward the exit.
The bustling scene on the street was exactly as Darco had described.
The two strolled leisurely, savoring the final moments before noon as they approached the Sea Pearl Pavilion.
A large crowd of richly dressed nobles had already gathered in front of the pavilion. They chatted in small groups, each accompanied by attendants, and many had brought their families.
The young noble ladies, their etiquette fans held gracefully before their lips as they whispered among themselves, suddenly froze mid-sentence as Roland passed through the throng.
"Look over there..."
One of the noble ladies, her hair adorned with pearl ornaments, tapped her companion's wrist with the edge of her fan. Her slightly flushed cheeks were visible behind the fan's surface.
"Which noble family does he belong to? I've never seen such..."
Her sentence trailed off as the noble lady beside her, dressed in a lake-blue gown, clutched her fan handle in visible agitation.
"Look at his profile," she whispered, her voice brimming with barely concealed excitement. "That jawline... it's like a master sculptor carved it."
More fans discreetly turned toward Roland, and a murmur of hushed whispers rippled through the air behind them.
One daring noble lady even brushed her fan's tassel against Roland's sleeve, but at the moment their eyes met, she hastily retracted her fan, leaving only a cascade of silvery laughter to tremble in the air.
Darco, witnessing this, raised an eyebrow at Roland with a mischievous grin. His expression clearly said, "See? I told you this would happen."
Roland shot him a warning glare, signaling him to stop stirring up trouble.
The wait wasn't long. Moments later, the Sea Pearl Pavilion's grand doors swung open from within.
Rows of impeccably dressed servers stood at the entrance, greeting guests and checking invitations.
As Roland stepped inside and gazed at the pavilion's interior, his eyebrows arched slightly.
The crystal chandelier refracted light like shattered gold, while the mother-of-pearl inlaid pillars glowed with a gentle warmth. Beneath the intricately carved dome, deep blue velvet curtains cascaded in layers.
On the milky white marble floor, delicate wave patterns seemed to flow, mirroring the coral artwork adorning the walls. The entire space exuded a subtle yet expensive oceanic ambiance.
"Darco, you've arrived."
Baron Gavin's deep voice interrupted Roland's observation.
The old lord of Dawn Territory nodded slightly to Roland before turning to Darco.
"Follow me. I'll introduce you to a few nobles."
"Yes, Uncle Gavin."
Darco responded obediently. Before leaving, he whispered a few words to Roland and then followed Gavin away.
Left alone, Roland strolled toward the buffet table, casually picking up some exquisite pastries. His gaze, however, remained fixed on Monen.
The King was still wearing his simple linen robe, utterly lacking the pomp and circumstance expected of royalty.
He hadn't given a formal opening speech or taken his seat on a high dais. Instead, he was sitting directly at the long dining table, nursing a large bottle of ale.
"We were surrounded by orcs in that valley for three whole days!"
Monen took a long swig of wine, then casually grabbed a handful of smoked meat and stuffed it into his mouth, continuing through a mouthful of food.
"We finally broke free thanks to a sudden downpour."
His rough mannerisms were less those of a king and more those of an old mercenary drunk on ale in a tavern.
Yet it was precisely this unpretentious boisterousness that filled the banquet hall with a relaxed and joyful atmosphere.
Nobles gathered around him in small groups, their hearty laughter echoing through the hall.
Servants moved between them, refilling wine glasses and serving dishes, the crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow on their cheerful faces.
Roland didn't join the crowd.
As his physical strength improved, his appetite had grown accordingly.
Compared to listening to the king boast about past glories, the exquisite dishes before him held far more appeal.
"The food is indeed excellent," he murmured.
After declining invitations from several noble ladies, Roland picked up a few fresh shrimp and savored their tender, springy texture.
Just then, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Good heavens, Roland, how long have you been starving? Anyone who didn't know better would think you were a refugee fleeing some disaster."
Roland didn't turn around, instead stuffing another slice of white bread into his mouth.
"Finished with the social obligations? How did it go?"
"Terrible," Darco grumbled, downing a glass of wine. He was about to complain about the nobles' aloof and condescending gazes when a sudden commotion interrupted him.
"How can such a lively banquet be complete without a martial performance to entertain us?"
King Monen, who had been seated at the table, now stood directly on top of it, his face flushed and his body swaying slightly.
"Colin! Clear these damned tables away!"
After shouting the order, he surveyed the nobles and announced grandly, "Let your attendants compete in a martial contest! The winner will be richly rewarded!"
(End of the Chapter)
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Translator's Corner
🚦FINAL CHANCE! Massive Monthly/Yearly Discount Ends in 2 Days.🔥