Mastery Is Earned

It was a dark, windy night, with thick clouds overhead. Only faint, scattered moonlight spilled across Blackpine Forest, shrouded in darkness. Somewhere in the forest, a campfire burned, conspicuous against the night.

It was an extremely crude temporary camp. There were no tents, only five bedrolls scattered haphazardly around the fire. Four mercenaries in mismatched armor sat around the campfire, drinking and boasting to one another about their past exploits.

At the edge of the firelight, a tall, slender, black-haired youth practiced with a battered iron sword. His loose, threadbare linen clothes made him look somewhat frail, but beneath his rolled-up sleeves, the lean, sturdy arms shaped by years of hard labor were clearly visible.

“You're just not cut out for this. Stop wasting your time.”

“Why don't you come over and get some rest? How are you going to stand watch later otherwise?”

“Yeah, kid. Come have something to eat.”

The mercenaries mocked the youth's efforts without mercy, laughing among themselves from time to time. Only the oldest mercenary watched him thoughtfully. “He really does seem to have improved, though.”

“Oh, come on. Him? Captain, I know you're trying to encourage the kid, but...”

“Hahaha...”

Hearing his companions' jeers, the older mercenary shook his head as well. Perhaps it was simply too dark, and his eyes had deceived him.

After finishing a complete set of sword drills, the black-haired youth returned to the fire. He paid no attention to the others' mockery. Silently, he ladled himself a bowl of thick vegetable soup from the pot over the fire and ate it slowly.

This was the second day since Raymond had recovered the memories of his previous life. This world resembled medieval Europe. With his former life's memories restored, he had quickly adapted to his current identity. In his last life, he had been nothing more than an ordinary man. His only notable trait was a level head.

He had been born into even worse circumstances in this life. He was a street orphan who had never known his parents. As a child, he had survived by stealing, scavenging, and running errands. Later, an inn had taken him on to chop firewood, move wine barrels, groom horses, and clean up vomit.

He received no wages, only leftover food and a pile of dry grass in the stable to sleep on. He had always envied the mercenaries who came to the tavern to feast on meat and drink their fill. He dreamed that one day, he too could take up a weapon and become a free mercenary like them. He volunteered to polish their equipment and tend their animals, captivated by the fantastic tales they told.

Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask to join a mercenary band. That was how he had learned these sword techniques from the mercenaries, though they amounted to no more than the fundamentals of swordsmanship. This was only his second mission with them.

Once he had eaten his fill and felt a little warmer, Raymond tightened his grip on his old sword, intending to practice some more. Seeing him, the older mercenary could not help sighing. “Kid, swordsmanship isn't something you can master in a day or two.”

“I have nothing else to do anyway, Captain Carter,” Raymond replied politely.

“Hmph. Just don't let it interfere with your watch,” Carter said bluntly.

He had very little faith in the boy. Raymond had almost no talent and was hardly worth training. If the boy had not been dependable and capable, no stranger to hard work, good with horses, and ready to take over all the chores no one else wanted, Carter would never have brought a completely inexperienced rookie into the band. Of course, most important of all, he was cheap.

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A gentle breeze passed through the forest, and Raymond found it rather pleasant. His first mission had gone very smoothly. It had only been a simple escort job over a short distance.

They had encountered almost no danger along the way, and he had faced no enemies. His only duties had been tending the horses, standing watch, and carrying cargo. Before awakening the memories of his previous life, he had received his first-ever pay—a few copper coins.

Instead of splurging on food and drink, he had bought a battered iron dagger. He touched the dagger at his waist and gave a rueful smile.

Back then, without his previous life's memories, he had not known how to spend his money wisely. Now that those memories had returned, he would need to plan his future carefully. But first, he had to finish this mission. He shook his head to clear away the stray thoughts, then gripped his old sword, ready to continue practicing.

A foul, rotting stench drifted to Raymond on the breeze. The strange odor immediately put him on alert. He quickly crouched low and silently scanned his surroundings.

At that moment, the clouds parted and the moon emerged. The trees swayed in the darkness. By the moonlight, he thought he saw two short figures creeping toward the camp.

“Careful! I think something's coming.” Raymond immediately moved closer to the fire and warned his companions.

“Huh? Are you sure you saw something?” one of the mercenaries muttered as he rose. Swaying unsteadily, he walked to the edge of the camp and took a look. After seeing nothing, he turned back to Raymond with a dismissive expression. “There's nothing out there.”

“Kid, is this your first night in the wilderness? You're imagining things. Let me tell you—”

Before he could finish, Raymond saw a crooked wooden club studded with iron nails emerge from the darkness. The club came crashing down squarely on the mercenary's impatient face, crushing most of his head flat.

Like an overripe watermelon dropped on the ground, his head burst, spraying bright-red blood mixed with nauseating, thick white fluid.

A group of chattering little monsters rushed in from every direction, brandishing weapons. They seemed to have been watching the camp for some time.

The monsters had dark green skin and hideous, savage features. Their scarlet eyes gleamed with cruelty. Most stood no more than a meter tall. Small and scrawny, they looked as though they could be felled with ease.

“Goblins!”

An angry roar rang out beside Raymond, and the other mercenaries reacted at once. Raymond instinctively tightened his grip on the hilt of his old sword, but the rest of his body would not move. He stood frozen. He had been an ordinary person in his previous life. He had never killed so much as a chicken, and he had never witnessed anything so gruesome.

With a thud, the mercenary's corpse toppled to the ground, and the club embedded in his skull was wrenched free. A goblin clearly different from the others turned a vicious glare on the petrified Raymond.

It stood nearly a meter and a half tall. Though still thin, powerful muscles stood out across its frame.

“Snap out of it, rookie!”

Raymond felt someone shove him from behind. The jolt snapped him out of it, and he could move again. Whether deliberately or not, the shove sent Raymond closer to the big goblin.

The big goblin raised its club. Its face twisted savagely as it let out a strange cry and swung hard at Raymond.

Clang!

Almost entirely on instinct, Raymond held his old sword horizontally in front of him and blocked the blow. The big goblin was considerably larger than the others. Even so, it was still somewhat short compared with a human—especially Raymond, who stood a full 1.85 meters tall.

The blow was much weaker than he had expected. After blocking it, his tense expression eased somewhat. The big goblin looked frightening, but it was not especially strong.

Raymond jerked his arm upward, knocking the club-wielding goblin off balance. He angled his body slightly, stepped forward with his right foot, and drew back his sword arm to gather strength. His foot sank into the soft, muddy ground.

The moment the big goblin lunged at him, he twisted sharply aside and drove off his right foot. As he pushed off the ground, his waist and hips rotated, sending the force through his right arm and out along the blade.

Shrrk—

The blade tore through the air with a shrill whistle, tracing a graceful arc of silver. Blood sprayed.

The big goblin's severed forearm hit the muddy ground along with a spray of hot blood. The goblin fell and rolled across the ground, howling and roaring. It turned a vicious glare on Raymond, as though it wanted nothing more than to eat him alive.

But Raymond's movements never slowed. He did not freeze after landing the blow, nor was he intimidated by the creature's ferocity.

He stepped forward quickly, his expression cold. Gripping the hilt in his right hand and bracing the pommel with his left, he thrust hard at the big goblin's cheek. The strike was swift and precise. The big goblin had no time to dodge.

The blade pierced its eye socket and drove straight into its skull. The tip sank in completely and stuck fast. Raymond could not pull it free.

[Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency +1]

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