"Roland... are you all right?"
Bronson frowned, his gaze fixed on the pale, handsome youth before him.
The bulging veins on Roland's forehead and his pained expression seemed strangely familiar to him.
During his years studying at the High Tower, he had seen too many apprentices with the same expression when they had overdrawn their Spiritual Power.
As Bronson's voice grew closer, the clamor of the surroundings gradually flooded into Roland's ears.
The young man pressed hard on his temples, his knuckles turning white from the force.
Only when the needle-like pain had subsided slightly did he manage to raise his head and force a weak smile.
"I... I'm fine, Mr. Bronson..."
"Really? You looked..."
"I was just... too focused on learning the script..."
Roland's voice was hoarse and low, as if every word took all his strength.
"Is that so..."
Bronson studied the young man before him, looking thoughtful.
'Studying basic script can actually lead to Spiritual Power depletion?'
The explanation was clearly illogical, but he didn't press the matter, simply patting Roland's shoulder lightly.
"Everyone else has gone to the mess hall. You should go too."
With that, he turned to leave.
"Mr. Bronson, please wait."
Roland struggled to his feet, then pulled a piece of cloth from his tunic. He had prepared it in advance, copying down characters in a scrambled order. He slowly held it out.
"There are still some characters I don't understand that I wanted to ask you about."
This was the third day in a row that the same scene had played out after class.
Bronson was already used to it. He took the cloth and began explaining the characters one by one.
And despite his lingering headache, Roland remained completely focused, memorizing each pronunciation and stroke, nodding from time to time to show he understood.
When the explanation was over, he bent slightly at the waist in a respectful bow.
"Thank you, Mr. Bronson."
"You're welcome."
A kind smile appeared on Bronson's pale face.
"Roland, you're a diligent child. Even if..."
He paused briefly.
"Even if you don't pass the Blacksmith Apprentice assessment this time, as long as you maintain this thirst for knowledge, you will surely achieve great things in the future."
"I understand. Thank you for your guidance."
After watching Bronson's back disappear around the corner, Roland let out a long sigh. He dragged his exhausted body over to the nearest large tree and slowly slid to the ground.
When his gaze fell upon the number next to [General Knowledge], his groggy mind instantly cleared as if doused with a basin of ice water.
'How much time just passed? Less than five minutes?'
'In just five minutes, my General Knowledge went up by thirty-two Experience Points!'
Roland savored the memory of the wondrous state he'd been in when he activated [Concentration]. He unconsciously licked his chapped lips, his eyes glinting with excitement.
'This state is simply incredible...'
'Not only does it speed up knowledge acquisition, but it must have an amazing effect on learning in other domains as well. It's just...'
Thinking of the needle-like pain that had pierced his brain just now, Roland shook his groggy head and sighed softly.
'With my current Spiritual Attribute, the duration is just too short... I have to find a way to raise my Spiritual Attribute. But...'
He shook his head and turned his attention back to the crumpled cloth in his hand.
After confirming that he had mastered all the characters on it, the young man slowly pushed himself up on his knees and trudged toward the mess hall.
'I should fill my stomach first...'
For some reason, the emptiness in his stomach felt more intense than ever before, as if his entire body was screaming with hunger.
The moment he stepped into the mess hall, the rich aroma of meat washed over him.
Roland swallowed unconsciously. He quickly grabbed a wooden tray, piled it high with food, and sat on a wooden bench to wolf it down.
Only after the food was in his stomach and the fiery hunger began to subside did he finally hear the conversations of the other boys around him.
"Celestial Father above! Not only do we get such a big piece of meat today, but a whole bowl of meat soup too! The Lord Baron is so generous! Don't tell me... we'll get to eat meat every day from now on!"
"Don't get your hopes up. I heard that when Young Master Dalko was hunting, his mount was disobedient, so he just had it slaughtered to give us an extra dish."
"Slaughtering a warhorse? Young Master Dalko is really extravagant..."
Hearing this, Roland slowed his eating.
'Dalko...'
He was no stranger to that name.
When the previous owner of his body was a Horse Boy—a servant specifically in charge of caring for horses—he had primarily served this very young nobleman.
Unlike Baron Fosling, who was not fond of martial pursuits, Dalko loved to hunt and had an almost obsessive passion for combat and killing.
And although the young master was flamboyant, he didn't sweat the small stuff and was unusually generous.
The dozen or so Copper Coins the body's previous owner had saved up were a reward for his excellent care of the horses.
'But none of that has anything to do with me anymore...'
Pushing the memories of his body's previous owner from his mind, Roland drained the last of the soup, let out a satisfied burp, and hurried back to the dormitory.
Because a large number of apprentices had voluntarily withdrawn from the assessment earlier, the once-crowded dormitory was now empty, leaving him all alone.
He carefully locked the door and, after confirming no one was around, cautiously retrieved the blood-stained parchment scroll and a dozen or so cloth scraps from a hidden spot.
Just as he was comparing the identical characters on them and beginning to decipher the text, a crisp bell suddenly rang out.
It was the signal to summon the apprentices to the Blacksmith Shop.
For Roland, however, the bell was now meaningless.
Hawke had given a clear order before.
Those who hadn't passed the knowledge assessment were forbidden from entering the Blacksmith Shop to practice their craft until they passed a makeup test.
Twilight descended without him noticing. Roland, relying on what he had learned recently and the basic knowledge he'd gotten from Mr. Bronson, finally managed to decipher all the characters on the parchment scroll.
"Mithril... Body Tempering... Technique?"
Roland rubbed his sore eyes. After confirming the characters on the parchment scroll several times, he couldn't help but exclaim in shock.
"The Secret Silver Body Tempering Technique? This is actually a Body Refining Secret Technique?!"
An admirer of the Knightly Spiritual, Sean often shared what he knew about Knights with him, repeatedly mentioning their training methods.
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 supplement it with a Body Refining or Body Tempering Technique to forge their physique. Neither could be neglected.
Roland had originally thought this was just some absurd nonsense Sean had cobbled together from knight novels, but he never expected it to be real.
'It seems the stories from the Minstrels... aren't all fabricated...'
he murmured to himself, his fingertips gently tracing the mottled script on the parchment.
'But on second thought, it makes sense. All fictional legends must ultimately be rooted in the soil of reality...'
After a quiet sigh of emotion, Roland lowered his head again and began to carefully read the characters on the parchment scroll.