"Roland... are you all right?"

Bronson studied the handsome youth in front of him, concern tightening his face.

Roland had gone deathly pale. The veins standing out on his forehead, along with the pain carved into his features, were far too familiar.

During his years of study in the Tower, Bronson had seen many apprentices look exactly like this after overdrawing their mental strength.

Bronson's voice pulled closer, and the noise around Roland rushed back into focus.

He pressed both hands hard against his temples. His knuckles whitened from the force.

Only after the stabbing ache dulled a little did he lift his head and manage a weak smile.

"I... I'm fine, Mr. Bronson..."

"Are you sure? Just now, you looked..."

"I was just... too absorbed in studying the letters..."

Roland's voice came out hoarse, each word scraped from the last of his strength.

"I see..."

Bronson looked him over in thought.

Studying basic letters had exhausted his mental strength?

The explanation made little sense, but Bronson did not press him. He only gave Roland a light pat on the shoulder.

"The others have gone to the dining hall. You should go too."

He turned to leave.

"Mr. Bronson, please wait."

Roland pushed himself up from the ground and drew a strip of cloth from his coat. He had copied characters onto it earlier, then mixed up their order. With some effort, he offered it over.

"There are still some words I don't understand. I wanted to ask you about them."

This was the third day in a row they had gone through the same scene after class.

Bronson had grown used to it. He took the strip and began explaining the words one by one.

Roland's headache had not faded, but he forced his attention onto every pronunciation and written form, nodding whenever he understood.

When the explanation ended, he bowed with genuine respect.

"Thank you, Mr. Bronson."

"No need to thank me."

A gentle smile softened Bronson's pale face.

"Roland, you are an eager student. Even if..."

He paused.

"Even if you fail the Blacksmith Apprentice examination this time, as long as you keep that hunger for knowledge, you will accomplish something one day."

"I understand. Thank you for teaching me."

Roland watched Bronson disappear around the corner, then let out a long breath.

His exhausted body carried him to the nearest tree. He leaned against the trunk and slid down to sit beneath it.

Then his eyes landed on the number behind [General Knowledge].

The fog in his head vanished like ice water dumped over him.

"How much time passed just now? Less than five minutes?"

"In less than five minutes, General Knowledge gained thirty-two experience!"

Roland thought back to the strange state [Focus] had brought him into. Excitement stirred despite his fatigue.

"That state was incredible..."

"It can speed up knowledge accumulation. It should be just as useful when learning other things. The problem is..."

He remembered the stabbing pain from earlier and rubbed his heavy head with a sigh.

"With my current Spirit attribute, it doesn't last nearly long enough... I need a way to raise Spirit. But..."

He shook off the thought and returned his attention to the wrinkled strip in his hand.

Once he confirmed that he had memorized every word on it, Roland braced his hands on his knees and stood, then staggered toward the dining hall.

"Food first..."

For some reason, the emptiness in his stomach was sharper than usual. His whole body seemed to be demanding fuel.

The moment he entered the dining hall, rich meat aroma rolled over him.

Roland swallowed, grabbed a wooden tray, filled it with food, and took a seat on a bench. Then he started eating with a hunger that left no room for manners.

Only after food settled in his stomach and the burning edge of hunger faded did the conversations around him register.

"Heavenly Father above! There is a piece of meat this big today, and a whole bowl of meat soup! The baron is truly generous! Do you think... we might get meat every day from now on?"

"Don't get carried away. I heard Young Master Darco went hunting, and when his mount refused to obey, he had it slaughtered and sent here for an extra meal."

"Slaughtering a warhorse? Young Master Darco really knows how to spend..."

Roland's chewing slowed.

"Darco..."

The name was not unfamiliar.

When the original owner of this body had worked as a stable boy, a servant responsible for tending horses, this noble young master had been his main charge.

Unlike Baron Forsling, who disliked martial pursuits, Darco loved hunting. His enthusiasm for combat and killing bordered on obsession.

The young master was ostentatious, but he did not fuss over petty matters and was generous with rewards.

The dozen or so copper coins the original Roland had saved had all come from taking good care of the horses.

"None of that has anything to do with me now..."

Roland pushed the memories aside, drained the last mouthful of meat soup, and burped in satisfaction. Then he returned to the dormitory.

Because so many youths had withdrawn from the examination, the once-crowded dormitory now stood empty. Roland had it to himself.

He locked the door carefully. After making sure no one was nearby, he retrieved the bloodstained parchment and a dozen cloth strips from their hiding place.

He had just begun comparing matching words and working through the text when a crisp bell rang.

It was the signal calling apprentices to the smithy.

For Roland, that bell no longer mattered.

Hawk had already made the order clear.

Anyone who failed the knowledge test was forbidden from entering the smithy to practice until they passed the retest.

Dusk settled before Roland noticed the time.

Using what he had learned over the past few days, along with the basic words Bronson had explained, he finally deciphered every word on the parchment.

"Mithril... body tempering... method?"

Roland rubbed his sore eyes. After checking the parchment again and again, he could not hold back a startled exclamation.

"Mithril Body Tempering Method? This is a secret body-tempering art?!"

Sean revered the spirit of knights, so he often shared bits of knightly lore with Roland. He had spoken more than once about knight training in particular.

According to Sean, becoming a true knight required more than cultivating a breathing method and condensing a Life Seed. One also needed a body-tempering or body-refining method to strengthen the flesh. Neither part could be missing.

Roland had thought Sean was repeating nonsense pieced together from knight novels.

He had not expected it to be real.

"Looks like the stories bards tell... aren't all made up."

He murmured to himself, fingertips brushing over the mottled writing on the parchment.

"Then again, even legends have to grow from something real."

After that quiet thought, Roland lowered his head and read the parchment carefully.