Special Effects

"I've won again," Kraun said as he withdrew his sword, his voice echoing in the silence.

Savas looked ashamed and annoyed; he hurled his sword toward the weapon rack with a bitter glare and turned to leave.

Marshall stood rooted to the spot, his mouth opening and closing several times, though he couldn't find the words to speak.

The result was beyond his expectations. In his initial assessment, he had believed his teammate, once unleashed, would surely win—or at the very least, even if he couldn't secure a victory within the allotted time, he wouldn't have lost so decisively.

Seeing that lonely, retreating figure, the lean Warrior tossed out a jade-colored coin. "Newbie, catch. Feel that power for yourself first."

Marshall sprinted away, hurrying to catch up with his teammate.

Kraun extended his arm, his fingers clamping steadily onto the flying coin.

It felt cool to the touch. He brought it up to his eyes; it was a round, jade object containing a black speck that twisted and turned incessantly.

He squinted, trying to get a better look.

The black speck resembled a projection of a Werewolf—or more accurately, a fragment of one.

The upper body was complete, but it lacked lower limbs, as if it had been severed at the waist.

Through his spiritual senses, he felt a sense of deep-seated resentment radiating from the Werewolf projection.

This must be a Spirit Coin. But what exactly was its purpose, and how was it used?

Kraun gripped it in his palm, deciding he needed to fill the gaps in his knowledge of supernatural basics as soon as possible. Otherwise, he might find himself in the embarrassing position of holding a treasure without knowing how to use it.

Setting that thought aside, Kraun summoned the Gold Wall.

[Basic Swordsmanship: Limit](Special Effect: Heart of the Sword. Insight into the mysteries of swordsmanship; increases damage when using sword-type weapons and accelerates the learning speed of other sword techniques.)

[Cross Sword: 23/5000; Tier 3]

Fantastic—another blue skill, and with a passive special effect to boot!

The effect was simple and unadorned, yet incredibly practical. Increasing damage with sword-type weapons was hard to quantify—this wasn't a game, after all—but boosting the efficiency of learning new sword techniques was immensely valuable, as it would save him a great deal of time.

The higher the level of a skill, the harder it was to improve in the later stages. With Heart of the Sword, learning advanced techniques would yield twice the result with half the effort.

The only regret was that Basic Swordsmanship had reached its limit and could no longer be improved. He had been curious to see what color a higher-level skill might be.

His progress in swordsmanship was faster than he had anticipated. Kraun felt that if he went back to spar with the Witcher tonight, he would be able to force more of the man's true strength out.

During the fight earlier, he had already sensed that Flow of Life. He picked up the parchment he had tossed on the ground and began to practice on his own, following the diagrams.

At first, he practiced strictly according to the sequence of movements shown.

Later, as he felt the Flow of Life coursing through his body, he followed its rhythm and began to combine the movements at will.

His body temperature rose, long since breaking the safe threshold, yet he felt no discomfort—only a sense of exhilaration.

Under the sunlight, sweat steamed off Kraun's body. From a distance, one might have mistaken the haze for a patch of fog.

Half an hour later, he stopped. He had exhausted too much energy and was feeling lightheaded from hunger.

He ran quickly to the dining hall. Lawford, who was in charge of meals, saw him coming and hurriedly served a large portion of toasted white bread, a plate of roasted meat, and a jug of milk.

Father Nick had given instructions long ago that Kraun would often need to replenish large amounts of energy, so the kitchen always kept these items in stock.

Kraun didn't care about his image; he grabbed the bread and meat with both hands and began to gorge himself. Whenever he choked, he took a gulp of milk to wash it down and kept eating ravenously.

In the gaps between bites, he didn't forget to check the Gold Wall.

He had felt the skill generate while he was practicing the breathing technique earlier.

[Flame Breath: 3/3000; Tier 1](The current effect is equally obvious; your metabolism has accelerated.)

The white text indicated that this was a slightly more advanced skill, only marginally better than the gray-tier ones.

Am I destined to be a brute? Why do these types of skills have such a low barrier to entry?

Kraun had a bad premonition. Deep down, he would have preferred to be a mage standing in the back providing fire support, rather than a meat-shield charging into the fray.

Although there was a satisfying impact to landing punches, close-quarters combat always felt a bit unsafe.

Perhaps I should continue grinding my Marksmanship.

He took a fierce bite of the roasted meat, deciding to find time to brush up on the proficiency of the skills he hadn't used in a while.

Reaching the limit of Basic Swordsmanship had granted him a passive effect, which opened up a new line of thinking.

The firearms of this era lacked sufficient power, primarily due to poor gunpowder. He believed that as productivity advanced, more potent explosives would be developed, and at that point, firearms would still be able to hold their own.

In any era, the vast majority of the population consisted of ordinary people.

The world was sprinting toward danger, and millions of ordinary people would eventually channel their passion into creating better weapons to protect themselves just to survive. More destructive firearms and ammunition were a very good choice.

In the afternoon, at the church training ground.

Kraun's arm flickered with agility, then circled and parried upward. Marshall's sword was cleanly knocked out of his hand—this was the fifth time he had been disarmed.

"I'm done, you freak. I finally understand how Savas felt this morning." The lean Warrior's expression was a mix of joy and disappointment.

He was happy that the newcomer was strong enough to stand on his own without much training, but disappointed that his authority as an instructor had been brought down to earth after only a few days.

One day—it had taken only a single day to fully master the Flame Assault Breathing Technique and successfully enter the threshold. Such talent was something he had only ever read about in the church's archives.

Thinking of this, Marshall felt even more depressed.

Truly, comparisons are odious. The lean warrior shook his head in self-mockery and said to Kraun, "We have nothing left to teach you. The Flame Cross Sword Technique is, in essence, a cross-strike performed after activating the Flame Breath Breathing Technique. If you practice it a few more times, you will gradually grasp its essence."

"Practice on your own; I am going to find Savas. Only he can understand the complicated feelings I have right now," Marshall said as he gradually walked away.

Without an opponent, Kraun felt a great sense of regret; the proficiency of his swordsmanship skills would now increase at a slower pace.

Though the road is long, one will surely arrive. Though the task is arduous, persistence will surely lead to success.

He set aside his greed and happily began practicing on his own, pondering how to make the Flame Cross easier to execute.

He spent the better part of the afternoon exploring and practicing by himself.

At dusk, Kraun left the church and walked home.

Looking at the intoxicating clouds filling the sky and comparing his current situation to when he had first transmigrated, he couldn't help but shake his head and sing a nonsensical tune: "Today's mood is so different, so very different!"