[You have learned Cleave. Current level: Lv.1]

Roland looked at the golden text before him, still lingering on the strange sensation from moments ago, when nothing in the world had seemed capable of stopping his blade.

"With that kind of force, even the Mutant Kobold's scales that turned blades and spears probably couldn't withstand it, right?"

Joy rushed through him.

He collapsed onto his back, chest heaving. Only after a long while did his breathing settle.

When he finally forced himself up on still-trembling legs, the sensation of having all his strength drained in an instant remained vivid.

"But with my current strength..."

Roland shook his head helplessly.

"If I don't use Focus, I probably can't perform a complete Cleave at all. And after every use, I'll fall into a short period of weakness."

"Looks like this Combat Technique can only be a final trump card. I can't use it lightly."

Even so, Roland felt no regret or frustration.

Mastering this Combat Technique meant his strength had already stepped onto an entirely new level.

"What I need to do next is practice until I can use Cleave without relying on the [Focus] trait."

With that resolve, Roland staggered back to the dormitory.

The moment his body touched the bed, he sank into deep sleep without even washing up.

Early the next morning, Roland went to the smithy as usual and completed the work Hawk had assigned him.

After lunch, he was just planning to find Darco and ask about the Adventurer's Guild when the young noble came to him first.

"Hey! Roland!"

Although his leg injury had not healed yet, Darco was still full of energy.

Sunlight caught in his dazzling blond hair, making him seem to shine.

"Heh..."

Darco's bright smile lifted Roland's mood as well.

"Your injuries haven't healed yet. Why aren't you resting in bed?"

"Don't mention it."

Darco waved a hand, made himself at home, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

He tossed the oak cane aside, stretched, and complained,

"I only lay there for a day, and I was almost bored enough to grow mold. What about you?"

As he spoke, he raised his chin toward the secret Combat Technique scroll already put away on the table.

"How is your study of Cleave going?"

More than study.

I can already use it.

Roland thought so, but he did not say it aloud.

After all, he had personally experienced how difficult Cleave was to learn.

He had barely mastered it largely thanks to the [Focus] trait.

So even though he had a good relationship with Darco, Roland chose to keep a low profile.

He was not worried Darco would grow jealous. Talent that was too astonishing often invited unnecessary attention.

This was different from his previous forging skill and swordsmanship.

The difficulty of those two skills combined probably did not reach even half that of Cleave.

Therefore, Roland only shook his head and calmly changed the topic.

"You came at just the right time."

He took out a new cup, filled it with clean water, and handed it to Darco.

"There is something I wanted to ask for your help with."

"Help? Of course! Just..."

Darco answered readily, then paused halfway through.

Remembering something, he scratched his head awkwardly and changed his words.

"Uh... why don't you first tell me what it is specifically?"

Roland noticed the unusual hesitation, but did not press him.

"I want you to help introduce me to several experienced old soldiers so I can learn combat skills from them."

"Combat skills?"

Darco's gaze drifted toward the iron sword in the corner.

"Forgive me for speaking plainly, Roland, but your swordsmanship is already quite outstanding. Even my former swordsmanship instructor probably couldn't compare to you."

"Not swordsmanship."

Roland poured himself a cup of water as well, sat on the wooden chair, and explained calmly,

"I mean skills for other weapons, such as short weapons like daggers, or polearms like spears and battleaxes."

"This..."

Darco looked puzzled.

According to the education he had received, those weapons were mainly used on the battlefield.

Daggers were understandable as self-defense, but spears and battleaxes...

Was Roland planning to join the army?

Although full of questions, Darco still patted his chest generously.

"Leave it to me. I'll have the servants look for several experienced old soldiers right away."

Seeing Darco agree, Roland relaxed.

At present, if he wanted to learn combat skills, he had only two options.

The first was to leave the estate and study at training grounds run by retired veterans.

But that would cost a large amount of money, and the travel would consume time he could not spare.

The second was to ask close companions like Peyton or John for instruction.

But not everyone possessed an occupation panel that could quickly master skills.

Peyton and John were both experienced, but human energy had limits.

One specialized in swordsmanship, while the other excelled at archery. As for other weapons, they only knew the basics, far from enough to teach someone else.

Since the matter of learning combat skills had been settled, Roland took the opportunity to raise a second question.

"Darco, the Adventurer's Guild you mentioned before..."

"Ah, that!"

Darco was clearly in a good mood because he could help. He raised his head and drained the water in his cup in one gulp.

"But I only heard about it from the estate guards."

"Supposedly, a few years ago, monster disturbances became frequent in various places. Although local lords like my father would send troops to clear them out, their forces were limited, and there were inevitably places they couldn't cover."

"Then, at some point, an organization called the Adventurer's Guild appeared."

"They specialize in issuing bounties, gathering idle mercenaries and adventurers to subdue monsters."

At this point, Darco rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I really don't know who is operating behind the Adventurer's Guild. Spending money to hire people to clear out monsters is no small expense."

"I heard that when the Adventurer's Guild was first established, many people were waiting to laugh at them. The merchants even insisted they would go bankrupt sooner or later."

"But no one expected that after so many years, the Adventurer's Guild not only didn't disappear, but spread across the country instead. It makes you wonder..."

Roland was not interested in why the Adventurer's Guild had survived or spread across the country.

He noted the information, then nodded and continued asking,

"Darco, do you know which places in Blackwater Territory have Adventurer's Guild branches?"

Darco did not understand why Roland was suddenly asking about this, but few people in the estate would chat with him about such things like a friend.

After thinking briefly, he enthusiastically raised two fingers.

"As far as I know, because Blackwater Territory is remote, there are only two Adventurer's Guild locations in the entire territory."

"One is in Mist Creek Town near the Black Fir Forest. The other is in Pinewood Town, not far east of the estate."

"Mist Creek Town... Pinewood Town..."

Roland repeated the two place names in a low voice and quickly made a decision.

Although his strength had greatly increased after learning Cleave, he still could not compare with powerful figures like knights, who possessed transcendent abilities.

And in the Black Fir Forest bordering Mist Creek Town, even Knight Beckham had failed to quell the monster disturbance. The battle had fallen into a stalemate.

That was enough to show the danger.

Roland only wanted to complete the job change for the Warrior occupation, not get himself killed.

After a brief weighing of options, he made his choice.

For the rest of the time, Roland asked Darco in detail about the area around Pinewood Town.

Fortunately, Darco was a true hunting fanatic. He often brought guards to hunt around the estate and was quite familiar with Pinewood Town, which was not far away.

Through their back-and-forth, Roland quickly gained a rough understanding of Pinewood Town, and the sky outside the window darkened.

"All right, Roland..."

Darco, throat dry from speaking, drained the water in his cup and wiped the droplets from his chin.

"It's getting late. If I don't go back, my father will get angry."

Thinking of Baron Forsling's furious appearance, he shivered.

"As for finding old soldiers to teach you combat skills, don't worry. If everything goes smoothly, it can be arranged in the next two days."

"Then thank you, Darco."

"Hey! Saying that between friends is too distant."

Darco propped himself up with the oak cane, stood, and clapped Roland hard on the shoulder with a sincere smile.

After seeing Darco off, Roland closed the door, sat before the wooden table, and fell into thought.

As the saying went, a craftsman had to sharpen his tools before doing good work.

Weapons were not too much of a problem. At least he had an iron sword to use.

But he absolutely could not knowingly go fight monsters while wearing these ragged clothes.

Of course, he could ask Darco to help get him a suit of armor.

But first, Baron Forsling's territory was limited, and fine armor was already precious.

Second, the battle in the Black Fir Forest was urgent, and frontline equipment was already stretched thin. How could extra armor be allocated to him?

Even if Darco spoke on his behalf, it probably would not help.

Through his observations during this period, Roland knew that although Baron Forsling lived luxuriously, he was never careless about major matters. Otherwise, he would not have continued supporting Knight Beckham's campaign to clear out monsters.

Furthermore, the reward for saving Darco had already been paid in the form of the Combat Technique. Baron Forsling would absolutely not grant armor for no reason.

Roland pondered carefully.

"Mr. Hawk hasn't taught me armor forging yet, and ore has been in short supply recently..."

"But... perhaps I can sew a suit of leather armor?"

"I can ask Mr. Hawk about it tomorrow. If making it is difficult, I'll think of another method."

After making up his mind, Roland cast aside the tangled thoughts in his head, picked up the iron sword beside him, and practiced Cleave with [Focus] switched off until exhaustion dragged him into sleep.

Early the next morning, just as he was preparing to head to the smithy, Matthew brought him a piece of news.

Bronson had returned.

Unfortunately, the scholar looked terrible.

Roland first went to the smithy and asked Hawk for half a day off, then hurried to Bronson's remote wooden house.

The door of the wooden house was half closed. He called out once, then pushed it open and entered.

The scene before him made his chest tighten.

Bronson was weakly leaning against the wooden bed, his already thin figure looking even more frail.

His hair was disheveled, his beard unkempt, and several sooty black marks stained his cheeks.

The robe he often wore was now worn and ragged, covered in fine scratches and peppered with small holes that looked burned by sparks.

What let Roland breathe easier was that there was no blood on Bronson and no obvious wounds.

Although his face was haggard, fanaticism gleamed in the scholar's eyes.

He was focused on the dagger Roland had personally forged, muttering under his breath.

"Mr. Bronson?"

"Roland?"

Only then did Bronson shift his gaze away from the dagger.

After recognizing Roland's clean, handsome face, he sprang up from the wooden bed in excitement.

"Roland! Our previous deduction was right after all. Ma..."

"Shh!"

Roland quickly raised his index finger to his lips, stopping the words Bronson was about to blurt out.

Then he moved to the door, looked around warily, and only after confirming no one was eavesdropping did he close it and return to Bronson.

"Mr. Bronson..."

Roland lowered his voice helplessly at the overexcited scholar before him.

"If you don't want to be treated as a madman, lose the baron's funding, and get driven out of the estate, you should keep your voice down when discussing magic."

"Ah! Right, right..."

Bronson seemed to remember something. His expression froze, but then he quickly nodded, hunched his back, and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"But Roland, the continent's mana elements really are reviving! Look at this..."

Although he deliberately lowered his volume, uncontrollable excitement still trembled through his voice.

He held the strangely shaped dagger out to Roland like a treasure.

The instant the dagger approached, that familiar strange sensation surged into Roland's heart again. He could perceive the emotional fluctuations of flame.

Roland narrowed his eyes and examined it carefully.

Compared with when he had handed it to Bronson, the dagger had not changed much overall.

Only the central cylinder was now covered in fine, web-like cracks, and those intricate lines were glowing with an eerie blood-red light.

"I successfully collected fire elements!"

"Collected... fire elements?"

Roland frowned.

Because he lacked the relevant knowledge, he could not fully understand the difficulty of the operation.

But judging from the fanatic light in Bronson's eyes, it was definitely not simple.

"That's right! Watch closely!"

Bronson began demonstrating at once.

He carefully touched the tip of the dagger to the flat tabletop.

The instant the blade met the wood, the hard tabletop began to sink beneath it like butter under a hot knife.

Wisps of green smoke rose, leaving behind a thumb-sized charred hole, with dark red embers still glowing around the edge.

The red light on the dagger's intricate lines dimmed slightly.

While Roland absorbed the shock of this strange phenomenon, Bronson had already begun speaking excitedly.

"Do you know, Roland? Even before the Final Era, warlocks had to use a unique method to draw elements from the air and activate runes branded in the Deep Consciousness to cast spells. But no matter what element it was, after casting, none of it would remain in the body."

"And I!"

Bronson raised the dagger high. His voice rose, and his eyes shone with near obsession.

"I created Spell Circuits that can store mana elements! This is absolutely an epoch-making breakthrough!"

"Mr. Bronson..."

Although Roland did not want to pour cold water on him, he felt it was necessary to make this fanatical scholar calm down.

"According to the casting principle you described, even if these circuits can store mana elements, won't they still disperse after casting? And..."

He took out the red crystal he kept close to his body.

"Doesn't this crystal formed from solidified mana elements also count as a storage method?"

"Completely different!"

Unexpectedly, this question made Bronson even more excited.

"According to ancient texts, these crystals formed from solidified mana elements only exist inside monsters and cannot be artificially manufactured at all!"

"And when warlocks cast spells, they must spend a large amount of Spirit to filter out unwanted mixed elements in the air."

"But my Spell Circuits already eliminate the unwanted mana elements as they are drawn in. Therefore, without consuming Spirit, someone can directly call upon the mana elements inside."

Roland finally understood.

The Spell Circuits Bronson was researching were like a storage core with a filtering function.

They could purify the mixed elements in the air into a single attribute and store them.

When casting, pure mana elements could be extracted directly, skipping the step of consuming Spirit.

If that was the case, then it was indeed a major piece of research.

As he pondered, Bronson's excited voice came from beside him.

"Watch closely, Roland..."

The increasingly excited scholar gripped the dagger with the four fingers of his right hand, raised his arm level, and stretched his index finger forward.

The next moment, a ball of fire the size of a knuckle appeared and condensed at his fingertip.

Whoosh!

With a sharp whistle, the fireball shot out like an arrow.

Bang!

After a muffled sound, a charred depression appeared on the thick wooden wall.

Roland froze and was just about to speak when a crisp cracking sound came beside his ear.

He turned and saw the dagger in Bronson's hand shatter inch by inch, metal fragments scattering across the floor with ringing clinks.

The room fell into a strange silence.

"Mr. Bronson..."

Roland was the first to break it.

"That just now... was magic?"

It was not that he was blind, but the power of that little fireball was worlds apart from what the crimson Goblin had cast.

"Uh... strictly speaking..."

Bronson coughed lightly. The mania from moments ago vanished, and he returned to his usual reserved manner.

"It was only a cantrip. Ancient texts called it Fire Bolt."

"A cantrip?"

"Yes. According to ancient records, magic is divided into cantrips and spells, and spells are further divided into nine circles..."

Roland thoughtfully recalled the memories from his previous life.

"So cantrips are only the most basic use of magic?"

"Understanding it that way... is also accurate..."

"Then how long did it take you to collect these mana elements?"

"About... ten days?"

"So just now... was your first time using these Spell Circuits to cast a cantrip?"

"No, it was the second time..."

Bronson's voice grew smaller and smaller, until it was barely audible.

"Ten days of charging, and it was scrapped after two cantrips? And that doesn't include the time I spent forging this dagger in the first place..."

The enthusiasm that had just flared up in Roland cooled.

But after thinking about it, he felt that Bronson's Spell Circuit design had considerable potential.

After all, this was only an initial research result.

If they could continue studying it, shorten the charging time, reduce the damage Spell Circuits caused to the device, and allow it to release spells multiple times...

Even the most basic cantrip would bring a substantial improvement to combat ability.

Judging from Bronson's demonstration, using Spell Circuits to release a cantrip seemed to consume almost no Spirit.

After pondering for a moment, Roland asked,

"Mr. Bronson, can I learn that cantrip just now?"

"Of course."

Bronson nodded.

"Knowledge related to cantrips is not within the restriction the Tower placed on me."

"In that case, I think..."

Roland paused, then encouraged him.

"Mr. Bronson, although your current research result is... not yet complete, it has plenty of room to develop."

"You're right!"

Bronson perked up, determination reigniting in his eyes.

"As long as I continue studying it, sooner or later..."

At this point, Bronson's expression froze.

"Uh... however... my research funding seems to be running short."

"Recently, because of the war situation in the Black Fir Forest, Baron Forsling has rejected several of my applications for research funds. And when I just returned, I had already demonstrated it for Baron Forsling, but he..."

Bronson scratched his head awkwardly.

"He said what I showed him was only a circus trick. Because of that, he flew into a rage and cut my research funding even further."

"A trick?"

Now that Bronson mentioned it, Roland remembered that before the Heavenly Father's festival, there had indeed been jugglers in the village where he lived who demonstrated similar techniques.

But Roland was certain.

He looked at the black hole on the wooden wall that was still giving off a little smoke.

Their tricks absolutely did not have this effect.

However, he also understood Baron Forsling's thinking.

After all, magic had disappeared for hundreds of years, and the world had long since lost its recognition of this mysterious skill.

Not to mention that what Bronson had cast was a cantrip that looked similar to juggling.

Thinking of this, Roland considered for a moment before speaking.

"If you continue improving these Spell Circuits, how much money would you need each month?"

"Not much, not much!"

Hearing the hidden meaning in Roland's words, Bronson rubbed his palms together and extended three fingers.

"Three silver coins would be enough!"

"Because mana elements are reviving, I discovered that Spell Circuits can still work even when they are not attached to solid devices. The effect is much weaker, but for research purposes, it doesn't have much impact."

"Three silver coins?"

That was still barely affordable.

Roland calculated silently.

He was currently a blacksmith apprentice and earned nearly one silver coin a month. Added to the five silver coins remaining in his pocket, it was enough to support Bronson's research for two months.

As for after two months...

He was planning to go to the Adventurer's Guild and accept bounties to kill monsters, so he could see how much reward he could earn then.

Roland coughed lightly.

"Mr. Bronson, I can fund your research. However..."

"However what?"

Bronson leaned closer and looked at him eagerly.

That slightly wrinkled face was full of expectation, looking both comical and pitiful.

"I need you to share your research results with me without reservation, and when I need it, assist me with my own research."

"No problem! But..."

Bronson tugged the corners of his mouth sheepishly.

"Does your previous promise to be my assistant still count? I'm not trying to be lazy..."

Afraid Roland would misunderstand, he quickly explained,

"It's just that if you help me, my research speed will increase a lot. That would be good for both you and me, wouldn't it?"

"No problem. It just so happens that I'll be staying in the estate for the next few days."

As Roland spoke, he reached into his clothes, took out his coin pouch, felt out three silver coins, and handed them to Bronson.

As for whether Bronson would deceive him, Roland had his own considerations.

If Bronson deceived him, then at worst he would lose a bit of money. With his constantly growing skills and strength, earning money would only become easier.

But if Bronson truly treated the research seriously and successfully improved these Spell Circuits, or even researched other types of Spell Circuits, then for Roland, who currently lacked offensive methods, it would be a huge boost to his strength.

What was more, Bronson still had many treasures worth uncovering.

For example, those books written in unfamiliar script.

Although Roland had no time to study them at present, he would definitely ask for instruction in the future.

Establishing long-term cooperation with this strange scholar looked profitable no matter how he examined it.

At that thought, Roland remembered a question.

"Right, Mr. Bronson, I remember that when you asked me to make that dagger, it seemed to be before you deduced that mana elements were reviving, correct?"

"Uh... this..."

Bronson neatly put the coins into his chest and answered awkwardly,

"You may not know this, Roland... but anyone who can enter the Tower for further study possesses a natural affinity for a certain element."

"So at first... I actually planned to use my own blood for the experiment."

"Elemental affinity..."

That familiar term reminded Roland of the [Furnace Heart] trait.

"Doesn't that mean I, who have an affinity for fire elements, also have the potential to become a warlock?"

For the moment, he pushed the unrealistic thought aside. Then Roland discussed the research direction for Spell Circuits with Bronson for a while longer.

Only when noon arrived and the lunch bell rang did the two stop talking.

After swallowing to moisten his dry throat, Bronson finally remembered something.

"Right, Roland. Earlier, a servant named Matthew said you were looking for me. Was there something you needed?"

After hearing the question, the scene Roland had witnessed in the forest that day rose in his mind.

The Blazing Sun Church warriors.

The crimson Goblin that used magic.

And the giant creature remains over which both sides had fought and killed.