Mithril Body Tempering Method

"Roland, are you all right?"

Mister Bronson frowned deeply as he watched the delicate youth before him, whose face had gone deathly pale.

The bulging veins on Roland's forehead and his pained expression felt exceptionally familiar to him.

During his years of study at the tower, he had seen far too many apprentices wear the same expression when their Spirit Power was exhausted.

As Bronson's voice drew nearer, the surrounding clamor gradually flowed back into Roland's ears as well.

The youth pressed hard against his temples, his knuckles whitening from the excessive force.

Only after the needle-like pain eased slightly did he manage to raise his head and force out a weak smile.

"I-I'm fine, Mister Bronson."

"Are you sure? You looked just now..."

"I was just... too absorbed in learning the words."

Roland's voice was hoarse and low, as though every word had taken all his strength.

"I see..."

Bronson studied the youth before him thoughtfully.

Could learning basic words actually exhaust one's Spirit Power?

The explanation was clearly unreasonable, but he did not press further. He merely gave Roland's shoulder a light pat.

"Everyone else has gone to the dining hall. You should hurry over too."

With that, he turned to leave.

"Mister Bronson, please wait."

Roland struggled to his feet, then pulled a piece of cloth from his clothes. He had long ago scrambled the words on it and copied them down, and now he slowly held it out.

"There are still some words I don't understand. I'd like to ask you about them."

This was already the third consecutive day that the same scene had played out after class.

Thus, Bronson had long grown accustomed to it. After taking the cloth, he began explaining it word by word.

Though his headache had yet to fade, Roland still focused completely on memorizing every pronunciation and spelling, nodding from time to time.

Only after the explanation ended did he bend slightly at the waist and offer a respectful bow.

"Thank you, Mister Bronson."

"No need to be so polite."

A kindly smile appeared on Bronson's pale face.

"Roland, you're a studious child. Even if..."

He paused slightly.

"Even if you fail to pass the Blacksmith Apprentice assessment this time, as long as you keep that thirst for knowledge, you'll certainly achieve something in the future."

"I understand. Thank you for your guidance."

After watching Bronson's back disappear around the corner, Roland let out a long breath. Dragging his exhausted body to the nearest large tree, he leaned against it and slowly slid down to sit on the ground.

When his gaze fell upon the number behind [General Knowledge], his muddled mind was instantly jolted awake as if someone had poured a basin of icy water over it.

"How much time just passed? Less than five minutes?"

"In just five minutes, General Knowledge gained thirty-two experience points!"

Recalling the wondrous state he had entered after activating [Focus], Roland unconsciously licked his chapped lips, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"This state is simply incredible..."

"Not only can it speed up the accumulation of knowledge, it should also have astonishing effects on learning in other fields. It's just..."

Thinking of the needle-like pain that had pierced his mind earlier, Roland shook his foggy head and let out a soft sigh.

"With my current Spirit attribute, the duration is far too short. I need to find a way to increase it, but..."

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the wrinkled piece of cloth in his hand.

Only after confirming that he had mastered every word on it did the youth brace himself on his knees and slowly rise, staggering toward the dining hall.

"I should fill my stomach first."

For some reason, the emptiness in his stomach felt far stronger than ever before, as if his entire body were crying out in hunger.

The moment he stepped into the dining hall, the rich aroma of meat washed over him.

Roland swallowed unconsciously, quickly fetched a wooden tray, piled it with food, and sat down on a wooden bench to wolf it down.

Only after the food entered his stomach and the burning hunger in his belly gradually faded did he clearly hear the conversations of the youths around him.

"Heavenly Father above! Not only do we have such huge pieces of meat today, there's even a whole bowl of meat soup! Baron Foslin is truly generous! Could it be... we'll get to eat meat every day from now on?"

"Don't get your hopes up. I heard that when Young Master Darko went hunting, his mount refused to obey him, so he simply slaughtered it and gave us an extra meal."

"He slaughtered a warhorse? Young Master Darko is really extravagant..."

Hearing this, Roland slowed his eating.

"Darko..."

He was no stranger to that name.

When the Original Body had served as a stable boy—a servant specifically responsible for caring for horses—the person he had mainly served was this young nobleman.

Unlike Baron Foslin, who had little interest in martial pursuits, Darko loved hunting and possessed an almost fanatical passion for combat and killing.

Though this young master was flamboyant by nature, he was not one to fuss over trifles, and he was exceptionally generous with his money.

The dozen or so copper coins the Original Body had previously saved in his pocket had been rewards for taking good care of the horses.

"But none of that has anything to do with me anymore."

After clearing the Original Body's memories from his mind, Roland drained the last mouthful of meat soup, let out a satisfied burp, and quickly returned to the dormitory.

Because a large number of youths learning crafts had voluntarily withdrawn from the assessment earlier, the once-crowded dormitory was now completely empty, with only him remaining.

He carefully locked the door, and only after confirming that no one was nearby did he cautiously retrieve the bloodstained parchment scroll and over a dozen pieces of cloth from their hiding place.

Just as he began deciphering the text by comparing the identical words on them, a clear bell suddenly rang out.

It was the signal summoning the apprentices to the Blacksmith shop.

However, the bell no longer held any meaning for Roland.

Hawk had issued a strict order before.

Those who had not passed the knowledge assessment were forbidden from entering the Blacksmith shop to learn the craft until they passed the retest.

Before he knew it, dusk quietly descended.

Using what he had learned in recent days, along with the basic knowledge he had asked Bronson about, Roland finally succeeded in deciphering every word on the parchment.

"Mithril... Body Tempering Method?"

Roland rubbed his sore eyes. After repeatedly confirming the words on the parchment, he finally could not help crying out.

"Mithril Body Tempering Method? This is actually a secret body-forging technique?!"

Because Sean revered the spirit of knights, he often shared things he had heard about them with Roland, repeatedly bringing up the subject of knightly cultivation in particular.

According to his best friend, to become a true knight, one not only needed to cultivate a Breathing Technique to condense a Life Seed, but also had to use a body-forging or Body Tempering Method to temper the physique. Neither could be lacking.

Roland had originally thought this was merely absurd nonsense Sean had pieced together from knight novels, but it turned out to be true.

"It seems bards' tales aren't entirely fabricated either."

He murmured to himself, his fingertips gently brushing the mottled writing on the parchment.

"But on second thought, every fictional legend must ultimately take root in the soil of reality."

After softly sighing over it, Roland lowered his head again and carefully read the words on the parchment.