Moonlight spilled over the estate. Roland walked beneath the broken shadows of the trees, doubts turning over in his mind.

"Silver dust is a common alchemical material. Bronson not only knows what it is, he even had some on hand. Doesn't that mean he understands alchemy?"

"But alchemy..."

Scattered memories surfaced. The only figures Roland could connect with alchemy were the wizards who often appeared in knight novels as mentors or final villains.

Bronson, with his poverty, embarrassment, and timid bearing, did not fit that image at all. Besides...

"How could a wizard work under a noble?"

Knights and nobles might have something close to an employer-and-retainer relationship.

But wizards were supposedly stronger than knights. Even when they dealt with nobles, they should be the ones looking down from above.

"I know too little, stuck out here in a place this remote..."

"Forget it. Even if Bronson really is a wizard, it has nothing to do with someone like me."

Roland set the suspicions aside for now and opened the cloth pouch in his hand.

Silver powder glittered under the moonlight, bright as crushed diamond.

"I have the silver dust. Next, I need to go out and buy the herbs, then start practicing the Mithril Body Tempering Method."

"But before that, I need to confirm whether I can pass the knowledge test."

The sudden acquisition of a body-tempering method was exciting, but Roland had not forgotten the most urgent matter in front of him.

Passing the examination and becoming an official Blacksmith Apprentice.

In the rigid hierarchy of the Golden Valley Kingdom, even if he tempered his body and gained strength, he would remain a slightly more valuable expendable without official status.

His body-tempering method was also incomplete without a breathing method to support it.

As for joining the army and earning merit...

With his current skills, he could protect himself. Fighting on a battlefield was another matter entirely.

Unless he had no other choice, he had no interest in following a knight to win glory before he possessed true strength.

And to increase his strength...

"Right. When I changed occupation to [Scholar], I was too busy testing [Focus] to check whether the new occupation resonated with my previous two!"

Roland tapped his forehead and opened the occupation panel at once.

At the very bottom, a new line of text had appeared.

[Recruit + Scholar]

[Extra buff gained: Theory and Practice]

[Theory and Practice: When you fight enemies, you can keenly perceive details in battle and thereby gain extra experience]

"So combat-related skills can gain experience not only through training, but also during actual fights?"

"I still don't know how much it adds, or whether it stacks with [Combat Readiness]..."

After parsing the description of [Theory and Practice], Roland looked farther down.

[Blacksmith Apprentice + Scholar]

[Extra buff gained: Standardized Production]

[Standardized Production: When repeatedly crafting the same equipment within a short period, success rate increases and equipment quality improves]

Roland's eyes brightened at the description of [Standardized Production].

Even an experienced blacksmith needed a measure of luck when forging tools and weapons.

Low energy, poor ore quality, damp charcoal, and countless other factors could affect the final product.

"But if [Standardized Production] works the way it says, I can largely offset those outside factors when forging tools."

"As long as I repeat the same work, the success rate will rise, and the finished quality will improve."

Excitement built in Roland's chest.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Hawk said the final examination only gives one forging attempt. If I could try several times, passing would be almost guaranteed with this buff."

"Still, once I pass the examination and become an official apprentice, this buff will definitely make Mr. Hawk look at me differently. Becoming a true blacksmith should go much faster after that."

With that thought, Roland headed back to the dormitory at a brisk pace.

Over the following days, he kept to his usual study rhythm and listened carefully to every word Bronson taught.

The secret transaction might never have happened. Teacher and student kept a proper distance between them, neither cold nor too familiar.

During that time, Roland began using [Focus] deliberately.

After repeated attempts, he found the best rhythm.

Activate it for three minutes, rest for half an hour, then repeat.

Each session was short, but the undivided immersion brought by [Focus] multiplied his learning efficiency.

In half a day of concentrated study, he mastered more words than he had learned in the previous three days combined.

With that astonishing speed, ten days passed almost before he noticed.

Early that morning, pale sunlight filtered into the dormitory. Roland unfolded a yellowed strip of cloth and ran his fingertips over the neat writing on it. A smile rose on his lips.

"Black Iron Ore Trade Contract..."

He read the title softly. His voice sounded especially clear in the empty room.

"Party A, the Blacksmith Guild's Limestone City branch. Party B, the Northern Mining Chamber of Commerce..."

Every word came naturally, smooth as running water.

The unfamiliar symbols that had once twisted like tadpoles now looked almost intimate.

When he reached professional terms, matching diagrams of ore even appeared in his mind by reflex.

"...If the sulfur content of the ore exceeds the standard value, the buyer has the right to deduct payment proportionally..."

Roland chuckled at that point.

"[Focus] is much stronger than I imagined. Ten days ago, these clauses looked like riddles. Now I can not only read them fluently, but understand the business logic behind each one. Incredible..."

"With my current knowledge, handling Mr. Hawk's test should be more than enough. Before that, I should ask for leave and buy the herbs. As for Marco..."

Roland set down the strip and thought of the blacksmith's son, who always wore such a gloomy look.

He smiled faintly.

It was not because he naively believed Marco had changed.

Over the past few days, Marco truly had no attention to spare.

The blacksmith sons who had passed the knowledge test were not inferior to Marco in forging skill. They had forced him into frantic training. How could he have the energy to make trouble for Roland?

In Marco's eyes, Roland had likely already been written off as eliminated, a failure who had not even passed the knowledge test.

Even if Marco still held a grudge over their previous conflict, this closed estate gave him no chance to repeat the same trick and hire someone to kill Roland.

Roland understood the last assassination clearly.

It had been Marco's personal madness.

If Marco's family truly wanted Roland dead, then with his father's influence in Blackwater Territory, Roland probably would not even know how he died.

That made this the safest time to leave.

Once he reached that conclusion, Roland stopped hesitating.

After a simple wash, he opened the door and headed for the smithy.

Before he got close, the ring of hammer on metal reached him, mixed with Hawk's angry roars.

Hearing that familiar sound, Roland gave a light cough and walked in.

"Hm?"

Hawk noticed him, stopped cursing, folded his arms, and turned.

"Roland? What are you here for?"

"Nothing urgent, Mr. Hawk..."

Roland rubbed his fingers together, putting on a troubled look.

"I just... want to ask for three days of leave."

"Leave?"

Hawk's booming voice drew the attention of several youths in the smithy.

"Yes, Mr. Hawk. I have some personal matters to handle..."

As he spoke, Roland watched Marco from the corner of his eye.

Just as expected.

Marco gave only a disdainful snort and went back to swinging his hammer. The hateful stare from before was gone.

"Have you recognized enough words?"

Roland shook his head in silence, and disappointment crossed Hawk's eyes.

"Kid, I'll be blunt. Your talent is good, but if you cannot pass the knowledge test, I will not let you take the official examination one month from now."

"I understand, Mr. Hawk. It's just..."

"Enough! I'll give you three days. But when you return, you must... forget it."

Hawk seemed to think Roland was looking for an excuse to avoid the examination. In the end, he waved him away and turned back to instruct the other apprentices.

"Thank you, Mr. Hawk."

With the matter settled, Roland said no more.

After leaving the smithy, he shouldered the pack he had prepared and walked straight out of the estate.