33 Points of Proficiency

"Moreover, the president suspected that the recent deterioration of the forest environment stemmed from latent mana radiation points and turbulent currents within the forest."

"To resolve those nodes, they needed mages to step in."

As she said this, Nia's large eyes warily swept over their surroundings.

Only after confirming that no one was nearby did she rise onto her tiptoes, lean close to Lance's ear, cover her mouth with one hand, and whisper:

"Although the town still has a few precious mage-class professionals left, their appearance fees are terrifyingly high, and their energy is limited."

"That's why the president set his sights on those students."

The girl's warm breath brushed against his ear, making it itch slightly.

"Put bluntly, they think they're too expensive. The Guild doesn't want to pay through the nose when this bunch of cheap labor is so convenient to use."

Without showing it, Lance shifted half a step to the side and rubbed his ear. He lowered his voice as well and asked:

"Did your vice president uncle tell you all this...?"

Nia's uncle was the vice president of the Adventurers' Guild, an old hand who had diligently worked in an administrative post for decades.

However, that uncle could find fault with Lance no matter what he did.

He had caught Lance several times hiding away to play cards with his precious niece. In his eyes, Lance was nothing more than a bastard leading a good child astray.

So whenever Lance saw that uncle, he usually took a detour.

"Yep."

Nia did not notice Lance's embarrassment in the slightest and nodded smugly.

"The president's got it all figured out."

"For these interns, the Guild only needs to pay a tiny stipend and provide basic room and board. They don't even need to pay them an official salary."

"Such amazing value."

"He also said that many of the students who came here for internships had noble or wealthy merchant backgrounds, so they weren't short on money."

"If they came here to intern, not only would the Guild not have to pay them, but in order to impress someone they liked or their mentors, they'd even spend their own money lavishly in town."

"By doing that, they could not only resolve the forest's mana hazard, but also stimulate Grayrock Town's economy. They could even use the partnership with Violet Academy to attract back the merchant caravans that had been scared away."

After hearing all that, Lance could not help sucking in a cold breath.

Good grief.

That was way too ruthless.

Wasn't that the usual trick those big corporations used to recruit interns in his previous life?

They used slogans like "gain experience" and "provide certification" to work college students like cheap—or even unpaid—beasts of burden.

Not only did they not need to pay wages, they even made the interns feel grateful to the company, convinced that they had learned something.

He had not expected the ugly face of capitalists to be so consistently inherited even in another world.

"That's really shady..."

Lance sighed from the bottom of his heart.

Nia nodded vigorously in wholehearted agreement.

"Exactly. That old man's rotten to the core."

After finishing a tedious day of copying work,

Lance returned to his lodgings. He hastily settled dinner with a few hard pieces of dark bread and cold water, then slipped into the Guild's private training room under cover of night.

The training room was brightly lit. Several Guild-issued practice shortbows hung on the walls, while quivers beside them were packed with white-feathered arrows.

Lance took down a shortbow and tested the tension of its string.

According to his current plan, he had to spend an unwavering hour practicing archery every day before pouring all his remaining energy into swordsmanship.

After all, his swordsmanship had already reached a critical point and could break through at any moment.

"Phew..."

Lance stood at the shooting line and took a deep breath. His gaze instantly sharpened.

The straw target fifty meters away was only a blurry outline in the dim light.

But he did not hesitate in the slightest.

Nock. Draw. Aim. Release.

Twng!

The bowstring trembled.

The feathered arrow became an afterimage and struck precisely into the red area of the straw target.

That was the standard of [Levin Archery] at LV2 (Mastery).

At this distance, as long as there was no gale to interfere, he could maintain a remarkably high hit rate.

He recalled when he had first begun training. Every arrow had taken him eight to ten seconds just to adjust his posture, and he had hesitated endlessly while aiming, often missing the target entirely.

But now—

Lance's movements flowed like water, without the slightest unnecessary delay.

From drawing an arrow to firing it, the entire process had been steadily compressed to between three and five seconds.

Twng! Twng! Twng!

The training room echoed with the monotonous yet rhythmic sound of bowstrings.

As time passed, the several distant straw targets were soon packed with arrows, dense as porcupines.

Lance had no choice but to stop, run over to pull out the arrows, clear the targets, and continue.

If a knowledgeable archer had witnessed this scene, their jaw would probably have dropped to the floor.

Although this practice shortbow was not a powerful bow, it still had a full draw weight of forty pounds.

An ordinary adventurer—even a dedicated archer—would see their arm muscles begin trembling from lactic acid buildup after firing around forty consecutive arrows while maintaining proper form. Their movements would distort, and their accuracy would vanish.

But a terrifying scene was unfolding in this training room.

Lance mechanically repeated the shooting motion while silently counting in his head.

"486..."

"631..."

"814..."

"965..."

As the final arrow left his fingers, it landed with another dull thud.

Lance finally lowered his arm.

Sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor, gathering into a small puddle.

He hung the shortbow back on the wall and reached out to touch the string.

After such intense continuous use, even the tough sinew string had visibly loosened and become somewhat slack.

Yet the owner of that bow still looked as though nothing had happened.

Aside from being drenched in sweat, his breathing remained steady and powerful, and his arm muscles did not tremble in the slightest.

Lance picked up his waterskin and took several gulps, then casually summoned the system panel.

[Levin Archery LV2 (75/240)]

Looking at that number, Lance calculated silently.

An hour of extreme training had increased his proficiency by roughly 33 points.

That worked out to around one point of proficiency for every thirty arrows fired, squeezed out like toothpaste.

"At this rate, my archery should break through to LV3 in about five more days."

His gaze moved downward and settled on the swordsmanship progress bar, which was already nearly full.

"If I'm lucky today, my swordsmanship should reach LV4."

Lance wiped the sweat from his face and set a new plan for himself.

"Once my swordsmanship breaks through, I can adjust the time allocation slightly over the next few days and give archery another hour."

"I'll try to bring my archery up to level 3 within three days as well."

Yet as he looked at the steadily increasing numbers, Lance frowned slightly.

"Still a little too slow."

It was fortunate that no one else was present.

If the adventurers outside heard those thoughts, they would probably be furious enough to punch him.

Other people measured their training progress in years, while he planned his by the day.

And this insatiable bastard still thought it was too slow.

They would probably rush over and strangle him.