[You successfully completed a Basic Swordsmanship training session and gained two Experience Points]
[Basic Swordsmanship has reached Full Level]
Roland wiped the sweat from his forehead and gazed at the text floating before his eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Unlike the Forging Skill, which required Level Three to reach its Full Level, Basic Swordsmanship was likely so simple that its maximum was only Level Two.
Thanks to the effect of his [Preparation for War] Trait, a single day of grueling practice had been enough for him to reach the Skill's apex.
'It might be at Full Level, but at the end of the day, it's still just the most basic form of Swordsmanship...'
Roland swung the Wooden Sword gently, sensing the changes that came with having his Basic Swordsmanship at Full Level.
'With my current level of Swordsmanship, I'm probably only a sliver better than a militiaman with basic training. Still, at least I have some means to protect myself now...'
Just as he was contemplating his breakthrough in Swordsmanship, he heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind.
He turned to see Sean walking toward him, carrying two coarse gray robes and two sheathed Iron Swords.
"Hey, man! I got everything you asked for!"
After taking the items, Roland deftly slipped on the robe and hung the Iron Sword from his waist.
The wide robe perfectly concealed the weapon's outline—exactly the effect he was going for.
The village, located near Black Pine Forest, was a magnet for all sorts of characters, including greedy Mercenaries whose eyes lit up at the sight of coin.
A valuable Iron Sword was more than enough to tempt such desperados into taking drastic measures.
Wrapping the sword in coarse cloth hadn't been a very secure solution. This seemingly ordinary outfit, however, allowed him to draw his weapon at a moment's notice without attracting unwanted attention.
"Did you say goodbye to your family?"
"I told my father, but Uncle Peyton still isn't back... That's normal, though. He often stays out all night."
The two chatted as they walked along the village path, and soon they had left the village behind.
The winter sun filtered through the bare branches, casting dappled shadows on the muddy path.
Not far behind them, a figure quietly emerged.
'That must be him...'
Sam squinted, repeatedly comparing the portrait in his hand with the profile of the youth ahead. He subconsciously touched the coin pouch at his waist.
'Once I finish this job, with the savings I've scraped together over the years, it should be enough to buy the herbs I need. And then...'
At this thought, his breathing quickened involuntarily, and he fell into step behind them.
......
......
On the tree-lined path leading to the Baron Manor, Sean chattered excitedly about his plans after enlisting. Roland humored him while secretly mulling over his own agenda.
'Now that my Basic Swordsmanship is maxed out, maybe I should consider learning another skill.'
'But the cost of learning skills at the training grounds is just too high. Even if I pass the exam and become a Blacksmith Apprentice, it'll be hard to save up that much coin in a short time...'
He ran his thumb over his sword's hilt, feeling a pang of regret.
'It's a shame learning from Peyton costs five Silver Coins. I don't have that kind of money right now. And as for forging another weapon to offer him... Mr. Hawke probably wouldn't agree to that...'
'I can't slack on my Power training, either. I need to hurry up and become a Blacksmith...'
As he was lost in thought, Roland's ears twitched.
The sharp crack of a breaking twig suddenly came from behind them.
Beyond the rhythm of their own two sets of footsteps, he could clearly discern a third, deliberately lightened tread.
He pretended to adjust his collar, using the brief turn to scan behind him out of the corner of his eye.
A tall figure was following them unhurriedly, about twenty paces back.
"Sean..."
Roland suddenly gripped his companion's shoulder, cutting off his endless chatter in a low voice.
"I think someone's following us."
Sean instinctively started to turn, but Roland grabbed his wrist.
"Don't look back."
He had no choice but to stare stiffly ahead, though his tone was skeptical.
"Aren't you being a little paranoid, man? Lots of people use this path..."
Roland quickened his pace imperceptibly, his lips barely moving as he spoke.
"Listen carefully. Just in case, here's what we do..."
After a hurried whisper, the two suddenly picked up their pace before making a sharp turn and diving into the dense woods beside the path.
Sam, trailing from a distance, was startled by their sudden move. He quickly broke into a run to follow.
As he pushed aside a tangle of branches, a voice suddenly spoke right beside him.
"Sir, were you following us?"
Roland stared intently at the tall, thin man, his brow gradually furrowing.
He felt like he had seen that face somewhere before.
"You actually noticed me?"
Sam grinned, not in the least bit flustered.
"You're a sharp one, kid."
He casually brushed some stray leaves from his clothes, his tone as nonchalant as if he were discussing the weather.
"Well, since the cat's out of the bag, I'll be straight with you. Someone's paid for one of your arms..."
Sam drew two rust-spotted Daggers from his belt and began twirling them expertly between his fingers.
"So, are you going to do it yourself, or shall I?"
In that instant, Roland had a pretty good idea who was behind this.
After all, since arriving in this world, he hadn't made any enemies—aside from Marco.
"Just accept your fate. It's only an arm. It's not like I'm going to kill you..."
Seeing Roland standing frozen to the spot, Sam couldn't help but sneer.
'He might have some low cunning, but in the end, he's just a terrified little brat. This job is going to be a piece of cake...'
With that thought, he slowly advanced.
Just then, Roland suddenly bellowed.
"Sean!"
His ears had just registered the shout when Sam felt a sudden rush of cold air at the back of his neck.
Years of living by the blade had honed his instincts, and he immediately threw himself into a sideways roll.
"THUD!"
An Iron Sword slammed down where he had just been standing, sending bits of grass flying.
"Damn it!"
Sam spat, his pupils narrowing.
'These two brats actually have weapons!'
Ignoring the man's shocked expression, Sean took the offensive, gripping his sword with both hands and bringing it down as if he were swinging a War Axe.
Seeing this, Sam immediately brought his Daggers up to parry.
In the next instant, a sharp, numbing pain shot through the web of his hand.
'Not bad, kid's got some strength. Too bad...'
The Mercenary sneered, preparing to sidestep the blow.
'This kind of sloppy, undisciplined hack... On a real battlefield, you wouldn't last three breaths!'
Just then, he caught a flash of cold light from the corner of his eye.
"SHLICK!"
Roland's blade, glinting coldly, had struck from the side, instantly opening a sizable gash on Sam's right arm.
"You little bastard!"
Feeling a sharp pain, Sam's eyes flashed with rage. He spun with a vicious kick that forced Roland back, then his Dagger lashed out like a striking viper toward Sean's wrist.
Sean scrambled to bring his sword around to block, but Sam twisted his wrist, trapping the Iron Sword.
With a brutal knee to the gut, Sean let out a muffled grunt and fell to his knees, his Iron Sword slipping from his grasp and plunging into a pile of dead leaves.
"Your turn, smart-ass."
Sam shook his bleeding arm. The stinging pain made his temples throb.
In that same instant, the tip of Roland's sword was already three inches from his brow.
"CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!"
A shower of sparks flew through the dense woods.
'Strange... this man's strength... it seems about the same as mine?'
Despite the thought, Roland's hands didn't pause for a second. Every attack was aimed precisely at vital points like the throat and heart.
'How is this kid's Swordsmanship so polished?'
The longer Sam fought, the more stunned he became.
Blood gushed from the wound on his right arm with every impact, and his Daggers groaned under the relentless pressure of the Iron Sword, forcing him to retreat step by step.
'Damn it...'
Blood loss was causing the edges of Sam's vision to go dark. When his back hit an oak tree, his frustration finally boiled over into rage.
'I have to end this, now!'
With this resolve, he deliberately created an opening.
As Roland thrust his sword forward, Sam suddenly lunged, closing the distance.
His Dagger became a streak of cold light, aimed straight for the boy's heart.
"CLANK!"
As the clear, metallic sound rang out, Sam's eyes shot wide open.
The tip of his Dagger had struck hard metal.
Meanwhile, a warm liquid was gushing from his own throat.
"You..."
Sam clutched his spurting throat and fell to his knees, struggling to look up at the boy before him.
The smell of decaying earth suddenly grew stronger.
He remembered the first wolf he'd ever hunted, back in the forests of his homeland twenty years ago.
Back then, that beast's eyes had been just like Roland's were now—a gleaming, brilliant black.