First Hunter King

The living environment had become harsh to the extreme.

Until the pioneer known as the "First Hunter King" appeared.

After witnessing countless battles between dragons and other mythical creatures, he discovered that before a dragon unleashed its destructive breath, its chest cavity produced a unique resonance frequency.

This genius, mad as he was, began imitating that frequency.

He forcibly controlled his breathing rhythm, making his frail mortal lungs adapt to the highly concentrated violent mana in the air.

Thus, the earliest Breath Combat Technique was born.

And with it, he took the first step for human professionals, becoming the first mortal to ascend the Ascension Stairway.

At its core, a breathing technique used a specific breathing rhythm and chest resonance to forcibly draw in the free-flowing aether energy from the air.

It then constructed a high-pressure circulatory system within the body, strengthening the flesh and opening a reservoir for storing energy.

Through day-after-day training, its limits could be continuously expanded.

After thousands of years of evolution and refinement, this primitive and dangerous technique had branched into countless schools.

And the [Gale March Breathing Technique] before Lance was the most widespread version on the continent today.

Its founder had not been some peerless powerhouse.

He had merely been an old centurion, Gale Rodriguez, who had survived forty full years on the brutal battlefields along the Empire's borders before retiring with honor.

During his years as an instructor, he had deeply understood the strain and dangers that ancient breathing techniques placed on the body.

So, using the most mainstream breathing technique of the era as a foundation, he had drastically removed every aggressive element that could cause bodily harm.

Though this improved breathing technique sacrificed bonuses to explosive attack power and lacked any flashy effects.

It possessed unparalleled safety and stability.

Practicing this breathing technique could greatly train a cultivator's endurance and recovery, allowing warriors to sustain themselves longer in prolonged battles.

Steady.

That was its greatest feature.

Thus, it was also jokingly called the all-purpose breathing technique, the preferred beginner's choice for most academy-trained students and self-taught adventurers alike.

Lance stared at the exchange catalog in his hands, his brow furrowing slightly.

This "Gale March Breathing Technique" truly was the safest choice for newcomers.

It could greatly enhance the user's cardiopulmonary endurance, allowing a warrior to maintain abundant stamina during long-distance marches or prolonged combat.

But that was precisely the problem.

The core advantage of this Breath Combat Technique was completely covered by Lance's [Hvergelmir's Boiling Surge] talent.

He was already a monster with limitless stamina. Learning another breathing technique that increased endurance would be like taking off his pants to fart.

It simply could not produce a qualitative change where one plus one became greater than two.

What he lacked now was not endurance, but damage output.

What he truly needed was a breathing technique that could, like a pump, instantly drain a massive amount of stamina and efficiently convert it into destructive power and explosive force.

Even if the side effect was rapid exhaustion, it did not matter.

After all, he recovered stamina quickly.

Only a high-burst, high-consumption combat technique could perfectly complement his talent.

Although his personality favored caution and he believed in staying alive above all else.

If he continued applying that cautious mindset to choosing combat skills, he would truly become a turtle that could only take hits and never strike back.

True caution meant possessing absolute defense while also hiding a sharp blade capable of killing with a single blow.

Lance helplessly turned the page.

The remaining Breath Combat Techniques each had their own strengths. Some focused on boosting strength, while others emphasized bursts of agility.

But when he saw the exchange prices listed afterward.

Even the cheapest one required three hundred merit points.

Lance glanced at the pitiful twenty-two merit points under his name and could only close the catalog helplessly.

For an ordinary adventurer, even one willing to risk his life, gathering such a huge sum would take at least one or two years of accepting difficult clearing or gathering missions.

That sort of growth curve might have been just right for ordinary people.

One step at a time, steady and solid.

But for Lance, who urgently needed to rapidly increase his strength and qualify for a Great Deed Profession.

It was far too slow.

In two years, it would be too late.

Just as he stood before the counter in frustration, wondering whether he should try his luck at the black market.

The clerk, who had been busy moments ago, suddenly hurried over with a professional, courteous smile on his face.

"Mr. Raven, please wait."

The clerk gave a slight bow, his tone respectful.

"The guild president would like to invite you to his office. He says there are some matters he wishes to discuss with you in person."

"Me?"

Lance froze for a moment, alarm bells ringing in his head.

He was merely a newcomer who had registered not long ago. Though he had shown a little of his ability during this clearing mission, surely that was not enough to catch the attention of the guild's top leader?

"Yes, the president is waiting for you in his office."

The clerk confirmed once more.

Though Lance was full of suspicion, he also knew it was not wise to refuse on someone else's turf.

He handed the catalog back to the clerk, adjusted the chainmail hood he wore, and followed the clerk toward the third floor.

When they reached the heavy oak door, the clerk knocked lightly.

"President, Mr. Raven has arrived."

Necros's vigorous voice came from within.

"Come in."

The clerk pushed open the door and stepped aside, making a welcoming gesture.

After Lance entered the room, he slowly closed the door from outside.

Inside the spacious office, Necros sat behind a massive desk, reviewing documents.

Seeing Lance enter, the old man set down his quill and gestured toward the chair before the desk.

"Sit. Don't be nervous."

Necros wore a genial smile, utterly lacking the authority he had displayed when berating his subordinates that night.

"Actually, I took the liberty of inviting you here today because I have a special commission I would like to give you."

Before Lance could ask anything, Necros took the initiative and began speaking.

"I have read your file, as well as the battle report Gareth submitted."

"Though you have not been registered as an adventurer for long."

"I have seen in you a kind of survival wisdom that many veteran adventurers do not possess."

"Despite possessing considerable strength, you prefer taking safe gathering missions. You understand how to assess the situation, and you understand even better how to remain calm in the face of danger."

The old man looked at Lance, undisguised admiration in his eyes.

"Young man, you are an adventurer with tremendous potential."

Hearing this lavish praise, Lance's expression did not relax in the slightest. Instead, it tightened further.

He knew this routine too well.

After spending so many years in the workplace in his previous life, he knew that when a boss suddenly called you into the office and began lavishly praising your youth, promise, and outstanding ability.

It usually meant they were about to dump a huge, nasty burden onto your back.