Drawing on his previous experience, Roland deftly navigated the tree-lined path and arrived at the village once more.
However, in stark contrast to the festive, boisterous scene he remembered, the village before him was unnervingly quiet.
Though it wasn't even noon, many shops were already shuttered, with wooden signs hanging on their doors indicating they were closed.
The few pedestrians on the streets hurried along, and many more, carrying bags and packs, rushed toward the village entrance with panicked expressions, their faces etched with terror.
"What in the world is going on?"
The scene before him left Roland deeply confused.
He muttered to himself, his mind full of questions, as he entered the familiar tavern on the side of the street.
The usually bustling tavern was now empty. In the main hall, only a single, stooped-backed old man was tidying up behind the counter.
Upon hearing footsteps, the old man flinched, only letting out a long sigh of relief when he saw it was Roland.
"What can I get for you, kid?"
After buying a few bottles of wine and stowing them in his pack, Roland took the opportunity to ask.
"Has something happened in the village?"
"You really don't know?"
Lauren looked up at Roland in surprise before lowering his head to continue his work, explaining in a hoarse voice.
"A large horde of Demons has appeared in the Chenxi Territory to the south. They've already swept through nearly half the villages, and that damn Baron Gavin..."
At this, Lauren suddenly gritted his teeth, his knuckles white as he clenched the rag in his hand.
"After he gathered his army, instead of exterminating those Demons, he drove those bastards right toward us!"
"Kid, I suggest you get out of here too, and fast."
Taking Lauren's advice to heart, Roland had just stepped out of the tavern when the sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears.
Following the sound, he saw a troop of soldiers marching in formation, heading straight south.
The men at the front looked familiar; they were the Guards from the manor.
'Even the Regular Soldiers have been deployed?'
Unlike the militia temporarily drafted for the Black Pine Forest, these Regular Soldiers were all clad in Armor and armed with sharp iron weapons. They were Baron Fosling's most elite force.
For even they to be dispatched to defend against the Demons showed just how unusual this invasion was.
Seeing the Regular Soldiers on the move, many villagers who had been planning to flee hesitated and stopped in their tracks.
But Roland only grew more vigilant.
After the troops had passed, he immediately hurried to the apothecary he remembered.
Fortunately, the apothecary hadn't closed yet.
Roland bought everything he needed according to the formula he had copied down, then turned and headed for Sean's house.
From a distance, he saw someone standing in front of the door waving at him. It was Sean's uncle, Peyton.
"What's this, kid? Don't tell me you're planning to give up on the assessment like that rascal Sean?"
In complete contrast to the other terrified villagers, Peyton had a piece of straw dangling from his mouth, looking as lazy and carefree as ever.
"It's a shame things aren't so peaceful lately. I'd already spoken with Lauren about getting you a job as a helper at his place..."
Roland ignored his teasing.
"Uncle Peyton, you've heard about what's happening in the Chenxi Territory?"
"Of course. I'm not deaf."
Peyton jerked his chin toward the house.
Gary was inside packing his bags, clearly preparing to evacuate like the other villagers.
"We're planning to leave tonight. What about you? Why aren't you staying put at the manor? It's a lot safer there than out here."
"I have some personal matters to attend to."
Roland took out the wine he had just bought at the tavern and handed it over.
"And I came by to see you all."
"Hah!"
Peyton's eyes lit up. He snatched the wineskin, eagerly uncorked it, and took a huge swig.
As his Adam's apple bobbed, he wiped his wine-stained beard and raised an eyebrow.
"You're much more sensible than that rascal Sean. So, spit it out... what are you after this time?"
Since he was fairly familiar with Peyton and time was short, Roland dispensed with the pleasantries and got straight to the point.
"Uncle Peyton, I've pretty much mastered the Basic Swordsmanship you taught me last time, so... I was hoping to learn a new style of Swordsmanship from you."
Asking Peyton to teach him Swordsmanship was something Roland had planned since leaving the manor.
The fees at the training grounds were too expensive, and with no other way to learn Combat Skills, he could only turn to Peyton for guidance again.
With that in mind, he took a coin pouch from his robes.
Of the eight Silver Coins he had gained from his last counter-kill, five remained after buying the medicinal herbs—exactly the price Peyton had quoted before.
However, to Roland's surprise, Peyton didn't take the money. Instead, he pushed the pouch back and patted the Iron Sword at his waist.
"I told you before, five Silver Coins to teach you and Sean for a month. Didn't you give me this thing to settle the bill last time?"
With that, he tilted his head back and drained the wineskin.
"But we only have this afternoon. How much you learn will all depend on your aptitude."
Before the words were even out of his mouth, Peyton turned and walked toward the open space behind the house.
Seeing this, Roland called out a greeting to Gary, who was still packing, set down his own bag, and hurried after Peyton.
Peyton came to a stop in the clearing, casually broke off a tree branch, and tested its weight.
"Kid, watch closely."
He flicked his wrist.
"Basic Swordsmanship might keep you alive, but this..."
The branch sliced through the air in a sharp arc.
"This is the Lion Swordsmanship of the Golden Valley Kingdom's regular army, designed specifically for the slaughter of the battlefield."
'Military Swordsmanship? Didn't Sean say Peyton used to be a Mercenary?'
Before Roland could ponder it further, Peyton's figure blurred into motion.
His movements were shockingly fast, the branch becoming a hazy Residual Shadow.
A thrust, a diagonal slash, a returning cut.
Every move was clean and efficient, with no wasted or flashy movements.
What was most frightening were the vicious angles of his attacks.
He aimed exclusively for weak points that Armor struggled to fully protect, like the throat, the armpits, and the back of the knees.
Amidst a cloud of dust, Peyton abruptly halted his attack, the tip of the branch a mere inch from Roland's throat.
His expression was unchanged, his breathing not even ragged.
"Did you get all that?"
Fine beads of sweat broke out on Roland's brow.
This style of Swordsmanship was completely different from the Basic Swordsmanship he had learned before.
It had no defensive stances, no blocking techniques; every single move radiated raw, undisguised killing intent.
What appeared to be casual variations were, in fact, cleverly hidden and deadly follow-up strikes.
"It's too fast..."
Roland admitted honestly. After wiping the sweat from his brow, he looked up and requested,
"Uncle Peyton, could you demonstrate it one more time?"
Peyton raised an eyebrow but readopted his stance nonetheless.
"Alright, kid. Can't say no after you gave me an Iron Sword..."
Seeing Peyton take his stance again, Roland quickly took a deep breath and silently activated his [Concentration] Trait.
In an instant, the sounds around him faded away, and his vision narrowed until only Peyton's figure remained.
To Roland's eyes, everything seemed to slow down.
He could even clearly see the contraction of Peyton's every muscle, the rhythm of his every breath, and every single trajectory the branch traced through the air.
Details that were impossible to catch in a normal state were now laid bare before him, as if deconstructed piece by piece.
When Peyton finished the final, sharp movement, Roland's pupils contracted slightly.
He had not only memorized the entire set of Swordsmanship movements but could also faintly grasp the tactical intent behind each technique.
He could tell which were feints, which were kill strikes, and which were meant to force an opponent to reveal an opening.
"Well?"
Peyton lowered the branch, only to find Roland's gaze had become exceptionally sharp.
"Uncle Peyton..."
Roland's voice was a little distant.
"The variation in the third form isn't just a simple diagonal slash. You adjusted your wrist angle mid-swing... that was to counter a block from a Shield, wasn't it?"
The branch in Peyton's hand snapped in two with a sharp CRACK.
His perpetually lazy expression froze completely, and his eyes, usually half-closed, were wide open for the first time.
He subconsciously took half a step back, as if seeing the young man before him for the very first time.
"What the hell..."
Peyton's voice trembled slightly.
"Have you learned this Swordsmanship before?"
"No..."
As the [Concentration] Trait deactivated, a wave of intense dizziness washed over Roland, forcing him to lean against the fence behind him to stay steady.
"Then how could you..."
Recalling the speed at which Roland had progressed with Basic Swordsmanship, Peyton ultimately just shook his head, then casually picked up another branch from the ground and tossed it to him.
"Never mind. Show me what you've got."
"Okay, Uncle Peyton..."
Roland caught the branch and, relying on the memory in his mind, perfectly replicated the Lion Swordsmanship.
Although his Power and speed were far inferior to Peyton's, and the transitions between moves were slightly awkward, his movements themselves were exceptionally precise.
Peyton stared at Roland for a long time before letting out a sudden, self-deprecating snort.
If he didn't know that Lion Swordsmanship could only be learned by soldiers of the regular army, he would have almost thought the kid had learned the Swordsmanship long ago and was just messing with him.
"Tch..."
Recalling the arduous years he had spent painstakingly practicing Lion Swordsmanship, Peyton clicked his tongue in frustration.
He shuffled over to the shade of a tree, collapsed onto the ground, and waved his hand lazily.
"That's enough, kid. I've got nothing left to teach you. The rest is up to you to practice and master on your own."
"Thank you, Uncle Peyton!"
After bowing slightly in thanks, Roland looked at the golden text that appeared before his eyes and licked his lips in excitement.
[You have learned Lion Swordsmanship. Current Level: Level 1]
'Just as I thought. The [Concentration] Trait isn't just limited to academic learning!'
'After activating the [Concentration] Trait, I managed to achieve Awakening for Lion Swordsmanship—a much more difficult style than Basic Swordsmanship—just by watching it once and practicing it once! But...'
Rubbing his slightly throbbing temples, Roland sighed softly.
'It seems the amount of Spiritual Power needed to activate the [Concentration] Trait varies depending on the complexity of the skill. Activating it for two minutes this time consumed even more than when I used it for five minutes to learn writing.'
After recovering slightly and recalling the wondrous feeling of learning a skill with the [Concentration] Trait activated, Roland clenched his fists.
'With my current Spiritual Attribute, as long as the Skill isn't overly complex or difficult, I should be able to use the Concentration Trait to learn it and drastically shorten the time needed for Awakening! This is simply...'
His thoughts were cut short by another intense wave of dizziness.
Roland staggered, and a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him.
'The feeling of having your Spiritual Power completely drained is really awful...'
With that thought, he dragged his heavy feet to the shade next to Peyton and slowly sat down, leaning against the tree trunk.
'I should rest for a bit...'
Roland closed his eyes, letting the tide of fatigue engulf him.
An unknown amount of time passed before a shrill scream tore through the night sky.
Roland's eyes snapped open. He realized the sky had grown completely dark.
More alarmingly, the distant sky was dyed orange by the glow of fire, and thick smoke billowed into the night.
'What's happening...?'
Roland pushed himself up, and his nose immediately caught the thick stench of blood.
It was followed by a chorus of terrified screams, bestial roars, and...
Chewing sounds?
His blood ran cold.