With his previous experience, Roland found his way along the shaded path without trouble and reached the village again.

This time, however, it looked nothing like the lively place he remembered from the celebration.

It was not even noon, yet many shops had already shut their doors. Wooden signs marked "Temporarily Closed" hung outside.

The few pedestrians on the street hurried past. Many carried packs, rushing toward the village entrance with fear written across their faces.

"What happened here?"

Confusion filled Roland as he walked into the familiar tavern by the road.

The tavern that was usually full of noise now sat empty. Only a hunched old man remained in the hall, packing things away behind the counter.

The old man jolted at the sound of footsteps. Once he saw that the newcomer was Roland, he released a long breath.

"Kid, what do you want?"

Roland bought several bottles of liquor and packed them away, then took the chance to ask, "Did something happen in the village?"

"You actually don't know?"

Lauren glanced up in surprise, then lowered his head and kept packing. His voice came out hoarse.

"A large number of monsters appeared in Dawnlight Territory to the south. They've already swept through nearly half the villages. And that damned Baron Gavin..."

At that point, Lauren ground his teeth and clenched the rag in his hand.

"After gathering his army, he didn't wipe out the monsters. He drove those bastards toward us!"

"Kid, take my advice and leave while you can."

Roland carried Lauren's warning out of the tavern. The moment he stepped onto the street, a dull rhythm of footsteps reached his ears.

He followed the sound and saw a column of soldiers marching south in formation.

The men at the front looked familiar. They were guards from the estate.

"Even the standing soldiers have been deployed?"

Unlike the militia temporarily recruited for the Black Fir Forest, these standing soldiers wore armor and carried sharp iron weapons. They were Baron Forsling's finest force.

If even they had been sent to guard against monsters, this invasion was anything but ordinary.

The sight of the soldiers made many villagers who had been planning to flee hesitate and stop.

Roland became more alert instead.

Only after the army had fully departed did he hurry to the herb shop from his memories.

Fortunately, it had not closed yet.

Roland checked the copied formula, bought the herbs he needed, and then turned toward Sean's house.

From a distance, he saw someone standing outside the door and waving at him.

It was Sean's uncle, Peyton.

"What, kid? Don't tell me you're following that bastard Sean's example and giving up on the examination."

Unlike the panicked villagers, Peyton still looked as lazy as ever, a stalk of straw dangling from his mouth.

"Too bad things aren't peaceful lately. I had already spoken to Lauren about taking you on as a helper..."

Roland ignored the teasing.

"Uncle Peyton, you already know about Dawnlight Territory?"

"Of course. I'm not deaf."

Peyton tipped his chin toward the house.

Gary was packing luggage, clearly preparing to evacuate like the other villagers.

"We're leaving tonight. What about you? Why come back at a time like this instead of staying safely in the estate? That place is much safer than out here."

"I have some personal matters to handle."

Roland took out the liquor he had bought at the tavern and handed it over.

"And I came to see you."

"Whoa!"

Peyton's eyes lit up. He snatched the jug, pulled out the stopper, and took a large gulp.

His throat worked as he drank. Then he wiped the wine from his beard, one brow lifting.

"You're much more sensible than that bastard Sean. All right, out with it... what are you planning this time?"

Roland was familiar enough with Peyton by now, and time was tight, so he skipped the pleasantries.

"Uncle Peyton, I've practiced the Basic Swordsmanship you taught me last time to roughly its limit. So... I want to learn another swordsmanship style from you."

Asking Peyton for instruction had been part of Roland's plan from the moment he left the estate.

The training ground's tuition was too expensive, and he had no other way to learn combat skills. Coming back to Peyton was his only practical option.

Roland took the money pouch from his coat.

Of the eight silver coins he had gained from the counterkill last time, five remained after buying herbs. That happened to match Peyton's earlier price.

To Roland's surprise, Peyton did not take the money.

Instead, he pushed the pouch back and patted the iron sword at his waist.

"I said five silver coins to teach you and Sean for one month. Didn't you already give me this thing to settle the bill last time?"

He tipped his head back and drained the wineskin.

"But we only have one afternoon. How much you learn depends on your own comprehension."

Before the words had fully landed, Peyton turned toward the open space behind the house.

Roland greeted Gary, who was still packing, set down his pack, and quickly followed.

Peyton stopped in the open ground, snapped a branch from a nearby tree, and tested the weight in his hand.

"Kid, watch carefully."

He flicked his wrist.

"Basic Swordsmanship can keep you alive. This..."

The branch cut a sharp arc through the air.

"This is Lion Swordsmanship, used by the Golden Valley Kingdom's regular army. It was designed for killing on the battlefield."

"Military swordsmanship? Didn't Sean say Peyton used to be a mercenary?"

Roland had no time to think further. Peyton moved.

His speed was astonishing. The branch blurred through the air.

Thrust. Diagonal cut. Return slash.

Every movement was clean and efficient, with no wasted flourish.

The angles were the most frightening part.

Each strike aimed for weak points armor could not fully protect: throat, armpit, the back of the knee.

Dust kicked up around Peyton's feet. Then he stopped, withdrawing his stance in an instant. The tip of the branch halted barely an inch from Roland's throat.

His expression did not change. Even his breathing stayed steady.

"Understand?"

Fine sweat gathered at Roland's temples.

This swordsmanship was nothing like the Basic Swordsmanship he had learned.

No defensive stance. No blocking techniques. Every movement carried naked killing intent.

Those seemingly casual transitions hid lethal follow-ups.

"Too fast..."

Roland admitted it honestly. After wiping the sweat from his temple, he raised his head.

"Uncle Peyton, could you demonstrate it again?"

Peyton raised an eyebrow, but took his stance again.

"Fine, kid. You did give me an iron sword..."

Seeing Peyton prepare, Roland drew a deep breath and quietly activated [Focus].

The sounds around him faded. Only Peyton remained in his field of vision.

Everything in Roland's sight slowed.

He could see the contraction of Peyton's muscles, the rhythm of each breath, and every path the branch traced through the air.

Details that would have been impossible to catch before were now laid out one by one, cleanly separated.

When Peyton completed the final sharp withdrawal, Roland's pupils narrowed.

He had not merely memorized the full set of movements. He could faintly understand the tactical intent behind each one.

Which were feints. Which were killing blows. Which existed to force an opening.

"Well?"

Peyton lowered the branch, only to find Roland's gaze sharpened to an unusual degree.

"Uncle Peyton..."

Roland's voice sounded distant.

"The variation in the third move isn't just a diagonal cut. You adjusted your wrist angle midway... That was to deal with a shield block, wasn't it?"

The branch in Peyton's hand cracked in two.

His usual lazy expression froze. For the first time, those half-lidded eyes opened wide.

He took half a step back, studying Roland like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Damn it..."

Peyton's voice shook slightly.

"Have you learned this swordsmanship before?"

"No..."

As [Focus] ended, dizziness crashed over Roland. He had to brace himself against the fence behind him to stay upright.

"Then how could you..."

Peyton seemed to remember how quickly Roland had improved at Basic Swordsmanship. In the end, he only shook his head.

Then he picked up another branch from the ground and tossed it over.

"Forget it. Show me."

"Yes, Uncle Peyton..."

Roland caught the branch and relied on the memory in his mind to reproduce Lion Swordsmanship.

His strength and speed were far below Peyton's, and the links between moves were still stiff, but the movements themselves were shockingly precise.

Peyton stared at him for a long moment, then gave a self-mocking sneer.

If he had not known that only regular army soldiers could learn Lion Swordsmanship, he would almost have believed this kid had learned it long ago and come here specifically to make fun of him.

"Tsk..."

Thinking of the bitter years he had spent training Lion Swordsmanship, Peyton clicked his tongue in frustration.

He dragged himself to the shade beneath a tree, dropped to the ground, and gave a lazy wave.

"All right, kid. I have nothing left to teach you. The rest is up to you. Get familiar with it on your own."

"Thank you, Uncle Peyton!"

Roland bowed in thanks, then looked at the golden text floating before his eyes. Excitement surged through him.

[You have learned Lion Swordsmanship. Current level: Lv.1]

"Just as I thought, [Focus] isn't limited to knowledge!"

"After activating [Focus], I only watched once and practiced once, yet I awakened Lion Swordsmanship, which is much harder than Basic Swordsmanship. But..."

Roland rubbed his stinging temples and sighed.

"It seems the mental strength required by [Focus] changes depending on how complex the skill is. This time, keeping it active for two minutes consumed even more than the five minutes I spent learning letters."

Once the dizziness eased a little, Roland thought back to the feeling of learning a skill under [Focus] and clenched his fist.

"With my current Spirit attribute, if a skill isn't too complex or difficult, I may be able to use [Focus] to learn it and greatly shorten the time needed to awaken it. This is simply..."

A powerful wave of vertigo cut off his thoughts.

Roland staggered, fatigue pouring through his limbs.

"Exhausting mental strength feels terrible..."

He made his way to the shade beside Peyton and sat against the tree trunk.

"I'll rest for a while first..."

Roland closed his eyes and let exhaustion pull him under.

At some point, a piercing scream tore through the night.

Roland's eyes snapped open.

The sky had gone completely dark.

Worse, the distance glowed orange-red with firelight. Thick smoke rolled upward into the night.

"What's going on...?"

Roland pushed himself up, and the heavy stench of blood struck his nose.

Then came waves of screams, beast-like roars, and...

Chewing sounds?

His blood went cold.