Chapter 17: 17 Fooling Around

Chapter 17: 17. The Deception

By night, the blazing configurations of several bonfires cast a brilliant illumination across the wide highway that cut through the wilderness.

After a brief respite of some tens of minutes following dinner, Romling assembled the contingent of guards and commenced instructing them in the standard maneuvers of the march: synchronized steps, the parade march, and the sudden halt.

Four years had already lapsed since his university military training; the professional vocabulary governing such movements had eluded his memory, yet the fundamental essentials of each posture remained intact.

He imparted the knowledge as he recalled it, a process consuming the better part of an hour before the entirety of the guards, McKen included, achieved a rudimentary mastery of the stride.

"From this moment forth, you shall train in separate rows of five. Those not presently marching must keep their eyes wide, observe the missteps of others, and thereby correct their own form!"

Romling turned his gaze upon his captain of the guard. "I leave them to you, McKen. You shall call the commands, and I shall inspect the fruits of your labor during tomorrow's dawn exercises!"

"By your command, my Lord!"

With an anxious heart, McKen stepped to the flank of the formation. "First row, heed my command: attention!"

Having relinquished the training to McKen, Romling returned to sit before one of the fires, noting that Chahar, the manservant, was grinning foolishly to himself as he tossed kindling into the flames.

"What is it? Do you also harbor a desire to join the drill?" Romling enquired with a smile.

Chahar instantly averted his gaze, offering an embarrassed laugh. "My Lord, I merely fancied that their training appeared most engaging."

"Ha-ha!"

Romling chuckled and said, "If you wish to go, then proceed; there is little else to occupy us now in any case."

Chahar hesitated for a brief spell, then, biting his lip, rose to his feet with palpable excitement. "Then my profound thanks to you, my Lord!"

With those words, he sprinted toward the formation and, upon securing McKen's permission, integrated himself into the rearmost row.

Observing this spectacle, Romling could not help but shake his head; on the morrow, once he heightened the intensity, introduced punitive measures, and commenced teaching them military martial arts, he would see if Chahar still retained his enthusiasm for the exercise.

He rested for a spell, took a draft of water, and subsequently drew his longsword to practice the familiar movements of the cleave and the direct thrust.

His predecessor's accomplishments in this arena were nigh non-existent; like the common guards, he too had to apply himself diligently to the study.

Absorbed entirely in their learning and exertions, the men lost all consciousness of time, until Romling, finding his arms heavy with fatigue and his breath coming in ragged gasps, finally ceased his swordsmanship.

He cast a backward glance at the guards who labored on; though sustained by the intimidating presence of McKen, their exhaustion was nevertheless apparent in their movements.

"Let us conclude here for the night."

With this directive, Romling stepped aside, scooped up two buckets of water to rinse himself clean, and was the first to retire to his tent to seek rest.

In the entire company, his was the sole tent; the others were obliged to pass the night huddled near the fires, a circumstance made bearable only because winter had not yet descended.

Scarcely any of the dismissed guards sought to wash; they came directly to the firesides, dropped heavily to the earth, and began their repose.

McKen, having properly disposed the night watchmen, took up his station just outside the canopy of Romling's tent.

The encampment soon lapsed into tranquility, broken only by the sharp crackle of burning firewood and the irregular rhythm of snoring men.

Romling longed for sleep, yet he mastered his weariness and remained awake, awaiting the arrival of midnight.

The moments ticked away until, just as Romling was on the verge of succumbing to slumber, the familiar script manifested before him:

[Check-in successful, Attribute Point +1]

Romling directed his gaze toward the seven-day login interface, and with a mere exertion of his will, claimed the bounty of the fourth day.

Instantly, within his field of vision, a premium parcel burst open with magnificent splendor, radiating a sudden luster before two lines of text coalesced:

[Attribute Points +60]

[Energy Essence +100]

Romling had already resigned himself to the likelihood that the premium gift might yield nothing of great import, yet upon beholding the sheer volume of attribute points and energy essence, an irrepressible grin spread across his features.

He examined his attribute status:

[Level]: 1-Novice Knight (32/100)+; 1-Novice Mage (0/100)+

[Attribute Points]: 61

[Energy Essence]: 100

With these attribute points, Romling's progression as a warrior stood a mere seven points short of completion; regrettably, owing to the constraints of his physical constitution, he could only advance both vocations simultaneously, preventing him from elevating his knightly rank to the intermediate stage first.

"Though I am barred from a breakthrough, McKen is not!"

McKen's knightly progression had already reached 80/100; it required a mere sacrifice of 20 points of energy essence to propel him into the ranks of the intermediate knights.

Between the novice and the intermediate, though separated by a single rank, lay a profound transformation for any knight.

An intermediate knight's battle aura would break forth from its seed; a knight could then deploy this aura to strike, vastly enriching the offensive repertoire of a professional warrior.

Precisely at that juncture, a rustling clamor arose from the northern woodlands, interspersed with a succession of low, muffled grunts.

Romling's expression tightened; fully alert at this hour, he caught the anomaly instantly.

The second to discern the disturbance was McKen outside the tent; his gaze, sharp as lightning, shot directly toward the source of the sound, where several towering silhouettes grew increasingly distinct against the dark of night.

"Ah, magical beasts! The beasts are upon us!" The guard assigned to the watch likewise perceived the danger and raised a hurried alarm.

The panicked cry reverberated through the camp, causing the slumbering guards to start awake instantly; grasping their weapons, they assumed a defensive posture.

Illuminated by the firelight, the three massive creatures revealed their true forms.

They were no magical beasts, but rather three immense wild boars.

"Do these creatures truly possess no dread of fire?"

Romling stepped from his tent, marveling silently as he beheld the boars, each the size of a young bull.

The trio of great boars appeared entirely undaunted by the presence of men; their gaze was fixed intently upon the wagons, drawn by the fragrance of grains and vegetables wafting therefrom.

"My Lord, permit me to dispose of these beasts!"

Romling gave a low murmur of assent, and in that same instant, expended the full 20 points of energy essence.

Buzz~

In that very moment, it felt as though something within McKen had shattered; an earthy yellow energy erupted from his heart, coursing rapidly through his entire frame.

"What is this?"

McKen felt the battle aura within his body with stark astonishment; he found, past all belief, that he had actually broken through his limits.

Though he knew full well this was the handiwork of his master, he remained struck with awe that Romling possessed such wondrous capabilities.

"Go then, conclude this engagement with the utmost celerity, and let the guards witness your prowess!"

"As you command, my Lord!"

With a resolute gaze, McKen drew his longsword and leapt forward in a single bound, moving with a velocity that left every guard gaping in admiration.

The boars emitted fierce squeals, yet far from retreating, they launched an offensive directly toward McKen.

"To arms, advance! Aid Captain McKen!"

The guards did not falter; one after another, they brandished their swords and charged into the fray.

Yet at that precise instant, a brilliant flash of light erupted; McKen delivered a mighty slash, and a blade of energy formed of pure battle aura traversed a distance of several meters, striking the lead boar precisely upon its head.

The Battle Aura Slash shore directly through the beast's thick hide and flesh; the colossal force of the impact jarred its skull, leaving it utterly dazed as it collapsed heavily to the earth.

"An external manifestation of battle aura!"

A perceptive guard cried out, "Captain McKen is a mid-level knight!"

The guards who regularly participated in training were all familiar with the mark of a mid-level knight. As soon as they saw the aura slash, they knew McKen's rank.

Following his shout, all the guards stopped their movements.

A mid-level knight dealing with three ordinary wild boars certainly didn’t require any assistance from them.

At this moment, someone puzzled, "During the daytime when the captain introduced himself, didn’t he say he was just a primary knight? How is he mid-level now?"

A know-it-all explained, "You don’t understand. Knights often conceal their true strength, intentionally lowering their stated rank to confuse opponents in battle."

"Oh, so that’s how it is!" The listener seemed to grasp it vaguely.

Roning stepped forward at this point, "No, McKen was indeed just a primary knight during the daytime."

His words instantly drew the guards' attention.

Roning smiled mysteriously, "Only he diligently practiced the movements I taught him, and after the evening training concluded, he broke through."

His main purpose in saying this was to enhance everyone's enthusiasm for training.

In this world, who could resist the temptation of becoming transcendent?

These guards, especially those under eighteen, were merely ordinary infantry in the knight squad, with limited prospects.

To ascend further, they could only hope to awaken the seed of aura, becoming professional knights.

Originally, this desire was difficult to realize.

But now Roning provided an explanation, and they had witnessed McKen, who was a primary knight during the day, become a mid-level knight by night.

What did this signify?

Roning didn’t explicitly state it, yet the guards automatically inferred: by diligently practicing the movements taught by their lord, they could achieve advancement!

In a daze, Roning sensed a shift in the guards' gaze—their longing for transcendent power.

Thanks to the voting support from the two lords: *Lifetime Walking the Path of Weight Loss* and *Light of Lightning*

(End of Chapter)