Chapter 29: Chapter 28: Brawl
The toxic flas of jealousy churned in the sixteen-year-old boy’s chest, threatening to burn away his sanity.
His fingers spasd around the hamr by the anvil, but a glance at the fully-ard Guards beside Baron Fosling snapped him back to his senses.
Marco took a deep breath, ultimately just lowering his head with a dark expression, burying his surging rage beneath a wall of silence.
"Well..."
Seeing Marco’s silence, Hawke patted his shoulder reassuringly before turning to the other aspiring youths to make an announcent.
"Those who didn’t pass the assessnt, pack your bags and leave the estate before dark. Understand?"
"Yes..."
The boys answered dejectedly, heading out of the Blacksmith Shop one by one with their heads hung low.
At that mont, Baron Fosling also rose from his high-backed chair and slowly walked over to Hawke’s side.
"Mr. Hawke, since the assessnt is over, I’ll be taking my leave."
"You’re too kind, Lord Baron."
Hawke was about to bow, but the Baron gently stopped him by the arm.
The nobleman then turned to Roland and nodded in approval.
"Well done, young man."
"Thank you for the praise, Lord Baron."
As Roland bowed, the Baron had already turned to leave.
Seeing this, Dalko smiled and waved at Roland before quickly catching up to his father.
’This guy... Why is he being so friendly to ?’
As Roland was pondering this, Hawke walked up to him.
The old Blacksmith was clearly in a good mood, his salt-and-pepper beard lifting with the corners of his smile.
"Good kid! I knew I wasn’t wrong about you! Head back to the dorms and pack your things, then report to the Blacksmith Shop on the east side of the estate. Got it?"
"Yes, Mr. Hawke!"
"Hehehe..."
Hawke gave Roland a light punch on the chest, then clasped his hands behind his back and ambled away, humming a little tune.
In the blink of an eye, the once-bustling assessnt area fell silent, leaving Roland all alone.
At this mont, Roland could no longer contain his excitent and clenched his fists tightly.
’Ordinary people learning Forging Skills need at least a year just to beco a Blacksmith Apprentice. But with the help of my Professional Panel, I reached this goal in only three months, and my forging technique is even more refined than a regular apprentice’s!’
’Give
a little more ti, and my skills will reach the level of a certified Blacksmith. Once I join the Blacksmith Guild and get my official certification, I’ll have finally gained a firm foothold in this Otherworld. But...’
Roland took a long, deep breath, calming his racing thoughts.
He recalled his conversation with Bronson yesterday and couldn’t help but shake his head slightly.
’Even though I’m a Blacksmith Apprentice now, I can’t afford to slack off.’
’While I keep improving my Forging Skills, I also need to find a way to learn new Combat Skills. And if I get the chance, I should try other things too, see if I can trigger an Awakening for new Skills and Professions.’
At this thought, Roland felt his future was bright.
He then picked up his pace and quickly left the assessnt area.
After reaching the dormitory, Roland quickly packed his bag. He turned and pushed open the door.
Looking up, he saw more than a dozen tall boys standing in the empty space outside.
’It’s the guys from the assessnt... Are they here to cause trouble? The sons of the blacksmiths shouldn’t be this stupid... No, wait.’
He narrowed his eyes, studying their faces carefully. He realized they were all commoners’ sons, just like him—they had all failed the initial knowledge test and only barely passed before the deadline.
’Looks like soone’s pulling the strings from behind the scenes...’
Roland instantly understood what was going on.
He clearly rembered that when he first arrived at the estate, Hawke had established many rules, one of which was the most severe.
Anyone caught fighting would be imdiately expelled from the estate.
’Soone’s set a trap, and they’re waiting for
to walk right into it...’
At this thought, Marco’s face, twisted with jealousy, imdiately appeared in Roland’s mind.
’How childish...’
In the past, Roland would have been helpless in this situation.
Back then, he had neither the power to fight back nor the luxury of breaking the rules.
Even if he won the fight, expulsion would be the only outco waiting for him.
And what about the boys ganging up on him?
They were going to be kicked out of the estate anyway after failing the assessnt. Whether they won this fight or not was completely irrelevant to them.
But tis had changed.
He had officially beco a Blacksmith Apprentice under the witness of Baron Fosling.
This ant that as long as he didn’t make a major mistake, Hawke would never expel him from the estate.
In other words, he and these boys were no longer playing by the sa set of rules.
Besides, he rembered very clearly...
...so of them had bullied him quite a bit when he had first transmigrated here...
At this thought, a cold smile touched Roland’s lips. He calmly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
"Gentlen... are you looking for ?"
Before Roland could finish, the burly boy in the lead stepped forward with a vicious grin.
"You think you’re so great just because you passed the assessnt with so cheap tricks?"
He cracked his thick knuckles, which made a sharp KRAK-KRAK sound.
"Today, we’re gonna teach you so manners."
The atmosphere in the clearing instantly grew tense.
Roland noticed the boys’ positioning was organized; this was clearly preditated.
Three blocked his retreat, five sealed off the sides, and the remaining seven or eight closed in from the front.
After exchanging a look, the boy at the very front suddenly threw a punch, the force of it stirring the hair on Roland’s forehead.
BAM!
After the dull thud, the crowd watched in astonishnt as Roland caught the heavy punch with a single hand.
His five fingers clamped around the other’s wrist like iron tongs. As the burly boy watched in terror, Roland gave it a gentle twist.
CRACK!
The crisp sound of a dislocated joint was accompanied by a piercing scream.
Roland followed through by raising his leg and driving his knee hard into the boy’s stomach. The body, weighing at least eighty kilograms, was sent flying like a ragged sack, knocking over three or four people behind him.
"This guy... How is this possible?"
Seeing this, the other boys’ eyes filled with disbelief.
They clearly rembered how weak Roland’s Power had been.
If it hadn’t been for the protection of that big oaf nad Sean, Roland probably would have left the estate on his own from their bullying long before the assessnt even ended.
Hearing the pained groans of their companion, fear simultaneously appeared on the boys’ faces.
But the thought of the money Marco had promised them stopped them from retreating.
"Get him together!"
Soone in the crowd shouted.
More than ten boys lunged at him at once.
A sharp glint flashed in Roland’s eyes. His Power Attribute of 6.5 was now on full display.
He took half a step back to dodge the first punch, his right hand chopping down like a blade on the nearest person’s neck.
The boy collapsed to the ground without so much as a grunt.
A whoosh of air ca from his left. Roland ducked under a sweeping wooden club and countered with a backhanded elbow strike right into the attacker’s ribs.
Amid the distinct sound of cracking bone, the person coughed up blood and fell.
Roland snatched the club from his grasp, spun around, and sent three lunging figures flying with a horizontal swing.
In less than a minute, the clearing was littered with groaning bodies.
The only boy still standing was trembling, a dark, wet patch spreading across his trousers.
As Roland slowly approached, the terrified boy’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he fainted on the spot.
"Damn it! This bunch of useless peasants!"
Marco clutched the empty coin purse in his hand, cursing under his breath as he hid in the shadows.
"And those damn Guards... They’re always patrolling around here at this ti. Why not today of all days..."
Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly reached his ears.
Marco looked toward the sound and saw several fully-ard Regular Soldiers walking their way.
"What are you doing here!"
Marco’s eyes lit up. He scrambled out from the dense woods, waving his arms and shouting.
"Sir! Sir! They’re brawling here!"
"What?"
Seeing the lead Regular Soldier frown and walk toward Roland, Marco rejoiced inwardly.
But in the next second, the smile on his face froze.
He realized that not only was Roland completely unfazed, but after getting a clear look at the soldier’s face, the corners of his mouth had actually curved up slightly.
He was clearly in a good mood.
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