Lionheart Swordsmanship

With the experience from last time, Roland easily made his way along the tree-lined path and arrived at the village once again.

However, unlike the lively scene during the festival that he remembered, the village before him seemed eerily deserted.

It was not yet noon, but many shops had already closed their doors, with wooden signs reading "Temporarily Closed" hanging outside.

The few pedestrians hurried along, and quite a number of them carried packs as they rushed toward the village entrance, panic written all over their faces.

"What happened?"

The scene before him left Roland utterly confused.

Muttering under his breath, he entered the familiar tavern by the street, his mind full of questions.

The tavern, usually bustling with activity, was now empty. Only a hunched old man remained in the hall, sorting through items behind the counter.

Hearing footsteps, the old man shuddered violently. Only after seeing that it was Roland did he let out a long sigh of relief.

"What'll it be, kid?"

After buying several bottles of liquor and packing them into his bag, Roland took the opportunity to ask,

"Did something happen in the village?"

"You don't know?"

Lauren looked up at Roland in surprise, then lowered his head and continued sorting things as he explained in a hoarse voice,

"A large number of monsters appeared in the Dawn Territory to the south. They've already swept through nearly half the villages, and that damned Baron Gavin—"

At this point, Lauren suddenly ground his teeth and clenched the rag in his hand.

"After organizing an army, he not only failed to wipe out those monsters, but actually drove those mongrels toward us!"

"Kid, I advise you to leave here as soon as possible too."

Carrying Lauren's warning with him, Roland had just stepped out of the shop when a dull rumble of footsteps reached his ears.

Following the sound, he saw a squad of soldiers marching in formation straight toward the south.

The men at the front looked familiar. They were the guards from the manor.

"They even mobilized the standing troops?"

Unlike the militiamen temporarily recruited from the Black Fir Forest, every one of these standing soldiers wore armor and carried sharp iron weapons. They were the most elite force under Baron Foslin.

Now that even they had been sent to defend against the monsters, it was clear that this invasion was far from ordinary.

Seeing the standing troops set out, many villagers who had originally planned to flee hesitated and stopped.

Roland, however, became even more alert.

Once the army had completely departed, he immediately headed to the apothecary he remembered.

Fortunately, the apothecary had not yet closed.

After purchasing everything according to the copied recipe, Roland turned and headed toward Sean's house.

From far away, he saw someone standing at the door and waving to him. It was Sean's uncle, Uncle Peyton.

"What is it, kid? Don't tell me you're planning to give up the examination like that good-for-nothing Sean?"

Unlike the other frightened villagers, Uncle Peyton still had a stalk of straw between his teeth and looked as lazy as ever.

"It's a shame things have been so unsettled lately. I'd already arranged with Lauren to have you work as an assistant for him..."

Roland ignored his teasing.

"Uncle Peyton, you know about what happened in the Dawn Territory too?"

"Of course. I'm not deaf."

Uncle Peyton raised his chin toward the house.

Gary was packing his belongings, clearly preparing to evacuate like the other villagers.

"We're planning to leave tonight. What about you? Why come back at a time like this instead of staying obediently at the manor? That place is much safer than out here."

"I have some private matters to deal with."

Roland took out the liquor he had bought at the tavern and handed it over.

"I also came to see you."

"Oh!"

Uncle Peyton's eyes lit up. He snatched the jug, impatiently pulled out the stopper, and took a large gulp.

As his Adam's apple bobbed, he wiped his liquor-stained beard and raised his brows slightly.

"You're much more sensible than that good-for-nothing Sean. Tell me, what are you up to this time?"

Since he was fairly familiar with Uncle Peyton, and time was pressing, Roland dropped the formalities and spoke bluntly.

"Uncle Peyton, I've more or less mastered the Basic Swordsmanship you taught me last time, so... I'd like to learn a new swordsmanship from you."

Asking Uncle Peyton for guidance in swordsmanship had been part of Roland's plan from the moment he left the manor.

The Training Ground's tuition was far too expensive, and he had no other way to learn combat skills. He could only come to Uncle Peyton for guidance again.

Thinking of this, he took a money pouch from his chest.

Of the eight silver coins he had obtained after killing his pursuers last time, five remained after buying the medicinal ingredients. That was exactly the price Uncle Peyton had quoted before.

Unexpectedly, however, Uncle Peyton did not reach for the money. Instead, he pushed the pouch back and patted the iron sword at his waist.

"I told you before: five silver coins would cover a month of lessons for you and Sean. Didn't you two already give me this thing as payment last time?"

With that, he tipped back his head and drained the wine pouch.

"But we only have one afternoon. How much you can learn will depend entirely on your aptitude."

Before he had even finished speaking, Uncle Peyton turned and walked toward the empty ground behind the house.

Seeing this, Roland greeted Gary, who was packing his belongings, put down his bag, and hurried after him.

Uncle Peyton stopped in the open space and casually snapped off a branch, weighing it in his hand.

"Kid, watch closely."

He shook his wrist.

"Basic Swordsmanship can keep you alive, but this..."

The branch carved a sharp arc through the air.

"is the Lionheart Swordsmanship used by the regular army of the Golden Valley Kingdom. It was designed specifically for killing on the battlefield."

"Military swordsmanship? Didn't Sean say Uncle Peyton used to be a mercenary?"

Before Roland could think it through, Uncle Peyton's body suddenly moved.

His movements were astonishingly fast, and the branch became a blur of afterimages.

A thrust, a diagonal slash, a backhand cut.

Every movement was clean and decisive, without the slightest unnecessary flourish.

Most startling of all were the tricky angles.

He targeted the throat, armpits, and backs of the knees—the weak points that armor could not fully protect.

Amid the swirling dust, Uncle Peyton suddenly stopped. The tip of the branch hovered less than an inch from Roland's throat.

His expression did not change, and even his breathing remained steady.

"Did you understand it?"

Fine beads of sweat appeared at Roland's temples.

This swordsmanship was completely different from the Basic Swordsmanship he had learned before.

There were no defensive stances or blocking techniques. Every move carried naked killing intent.

The seemingly casual changes concealed deadly follow-up attacks.

"Too fast."

Roland honestly admitted it. After wiping the sweat from his temple, he looked up and asked,

"Uncle Peyton, could you demonstrate it one more time?"

Uncle Peyton raised a brow but still readied his stance again.

"All right, kid. I suppose I have to, since you gave me an iron sword."

Seeing Uncle Peyton take up his stance again, Roland quickly drew a deep breath and quietly activated the [Focus] trait.

In an instant, the sounds around him gradually faded away, leaving only Uncle Peyton's figure in his vision.

Everything seemed to slow down within Roland's sight.

He could even clearly see the contraction of every muscle in Uncle Peyton's body, the rhythm of each breath, and every trajectory traced by the branch through the air.

The details that had been impossible to catch in his ordinary state now unfolded before him one by one, as if being taken apart.

When Uncle Peyton completed the final, forceful stop, Roland's pupils contracted slightly.

He had not only memorized the entire set of swordsmanship, but could even vaguely understand the tactical intent behind each move.

Which were feints, which were killing blows, and which were meant to force an opening from the opponent.

"How was it?"

Uncle Peyton lowered the branch, only to find that Roland's gaze had become exceptionally sharp.

"Uncle Peyton."

Roland's voice sounded somewhat distant.

"The change in the third technique isn't simply a diagonal slash. You adjusted the angle of your wrist midway through to deal with a shield block, didn't you?"

With a sharp crack, the branch in Uncle Peyton's hand broke in two.

His usually lazy expression completely froze. His perpetually half-lidded eyes widened for the first time.

He instinctively took half a step back, as if he were seeing this young man for the first time.

"Damn it."

Uncle Peyton's voice trembled slightly.

"Have you learned this swordsmanship before?"

"No."

As the [Focus] trait shut off, Roland was suddenly hit by intense dizziness. He had to brace himself against the fence behind him to steady his body.

"Then how do you know..."

Thinking of Roland's rate of progress when learning Basic Swordsmanship, Uncle Peyton ultimately only shook his head. He then casually picked up another branch from the ground and tossed it over.

"Forget it. Show me the whole thing."

"All right, Uncle Peyton."

Roland caught the branch and perfectly reproduced the Lionheart Swordsmanship from memory.

Although his strength and speed were far inferior to Uncle Peyton's, and the transitions between his moves were slightly stiff, each movement was remarkably precise.

Uncle Peyton stared at Roland for a long while before suddenly letting out a self-mocking scoff.

If he had not known that only soldiers of the regular army could learn Lionheart Swordsmanship, he would almost have thought that this kid had mastered it long ago and had come specifically to make a fool of him.

"Tsk."

Remembering the hardships he had endured while practicing Lionheart Swordsmanship back then, Uncle Peyton clicked his tongue gloomily.

He dragged his feet to the shade of a tree, collapsed onto the ground, and lazily waved his hand.

"All right, kid. I have nothing left to teach you. You'll have to slowly master the rest on your own."

"Thank you, Uncle Peyton!"

After bowing slightly in gratitude, Roland looked at the golden words floating before him and licked his lips excitedly.

[You have learned Lionheart Swordsmanship. Current Level: Lv.1]

"Just as I thought, the [Focus] trait really isn't limited to scholarly knowledge!"

"After activating the [Focus] trait, I only had to watch it once and practice it once to awaken Lionheart Swordsmanship, which is more difficult than Basic Swordsmanship! But..."

Rubbing his aching temples, Roland sighed softly.

"It seems that the Spirit Power required to activate the [Focus] trait differs according to the complexity of the skill being learned. I activated it for two minutes this time, yet the expenditure was greater than the five minutes I spent learning written characters last time."

After regaining his composure slightly, Roland clenched his fists as he recalled the wondrous sensation of learning the skill after activating the [Focus] trait.

"With my current Spirit attribute, perhaps as long as a skill isn't too complex or difficult, I can activate the Focus trait to learn it, greatly shortening the time needed to awaken the skill! This is simply..."

His thoughts were interrupted by a powerful wave of dizziness.

Roland staggered, and a wave of fatigue immediately surged over him.

"Exhausting my Spirit Power feels awful..."

Thinking this, he dragged his heavy steps to the shade beside Uncle Peyton and slowly sat down against the tree trunk.

"I'll rest for a while first."

Roland closed his eyes, allowing exhaustion to engulf him like a tide.

He did not know how much time had passed when a sharp scream pierced the night sky.

Roland abruptly opened his eyes and discovered that the sky had gone completely dark.

Even more alarming, the distant sky had been dyed orange-red by firelight, while thick smoke billowed upward into the night.

"What happened?"

Roland pushed himself upright, and his nose immediately caught the heavy scent of blood.

Following it came wave after wave of screams, beastlike roars, and...

chewing sounds?

His blood instantly ran cold.