Chapter 51 – Sword Mastery Scroll
Training dummies were one of many destructible items in the ga world. However, all dummies within big fortresses, such as Frogine Fortress, were special. The developers had slipped in a unique loot table.
If a player destroyed one with a wooden weapon, at least one status attribute token and one random item would drop from the broken dummy. Players at lower levels would receive better rewards.
Players hated this chanic since they could only find dummies in campaign maps, where battles were raging. With ti managent being critical to achieving mission objectives, they found themselves with no extra ti to practice striking a dummy with wooden weapons. Moreover, the maps with dummies were all high-level areas, where minions were level six musou knights while the elites were level seven.
But here, ti restrictions didn’t exist. I kept smacking the dummy with the wooden sword in my hand. Stances? Techniques? None of those mattered.
After a hundred consecutive hits, my wooden sword broke. I picked a new one from the rack and continued playing.
Two hundred hits later, my hands were numb.
Three hundred hits later, my palms turned red, and my skin peeled.
Four hundred hits later, my hands were bloody.
It was harder than I thought. In the ga, it broke in just one dozen hits. Obviously, the status attributes of the ga characters were better than mine. My current constitution and strength were the sa as a mob soldier’s. I wondered how I had even defeated Troturre last night.
Twenty strikes later, the dummy broke. Two small beacons descended from midair, shining upon two erging items: a giant tal token with a shield icon and a scroll.
Looking at my torn hands, I clicked my tongue. Seizing the giant badge of defense attribute, I injected my musou energy into it.
The token transford into a streak of dust, flowing into my nostrils, mouth, ears, and bodily pores. I felt a rush of energy, as if I had chugged an entire can of Monster.
According to my mory, a small token granted one point. A dium token gave three points. A large one gave five, and the giant one just now offered ten. The maximum value for all attributes was 999, aning I only needed to acquire ninety-nine more to reach the highest possible stats.
This reminded that I still had a speed token. I fetched it from my pocket and used it too. Strength entered my legs, my abdon, and back. My lower parts beca lighter.
My attention then shifted to the glowing scroll. This item was also the prize I needed.
After grabbing it, I spread the scroll. There was nothing written on it. Nonetheless, the scroll glowed and disappeared from my grasp, transforming into a beam of light that shot into my forehead.
A vision entered my mind. As if in a dream, I saw a replica of myself standing in a grassland, facing adversaries. The clone wielded a one-handed sword, parrying a thrust, executing a downward slash, and then a sweeping attack.
After defeating his opponents with counterattack moves, the foes self-resurrected and repeated the process. As though choreographed, the movents seed like a pattern. They continued fighting day and night.
I lost count of how many tis my clone repeated the sa moves. They never slept or took breaks. They never needed food. My clone and the enemies were on a loop while the flow of ti continued.
A week passed. A month passed. A year passed. My dream continued, with my focus locked on the clone and the enemies. I stopped counting after the seventh year.
Then I noticed. My clone aged. At the seventieth year, my clone was unrecognizable. With each passing day, his wrinkled skin and skeletal build grew more gaunt, making him appear like a man well into his nineties. He soon beca unable to continue. The foes he had been fighting for seven decades vanished.
Despite his age and condition, he turned around and bead at with a bright smile. With a gentle touch, he gave the wooden sword, which he had dedicated his lifeti to practicing with. As soon as I received the sword, the man dissipated into gold dust and rged with . The dream ended.
As I ca to my senses, the sky had already dimd. My attention, however, focused on my arms and legs. I picked another wooden sword from the rack and took a stance.
I visualized the opponent’s attacks, such as a thrust, a slash, a cut, and reacted as if I were practicing shadow boxing. My legs, arms, shoulders, and core flowed as I counterattacked against the shadow in my mind.
My chest swelled, not because of disease but because of emotion. I bit my lower lip as I thought of my clone in the vision.
"You’ve worked hard. I’ll be putting your skills to good use."
I put the sword away and wiped the teardrops from my face, though I stained my cheeks with bloody fingers and palms. After taking another deep breath, my mood stabilized.
There had been no such thing in the ga. Last ti I played, the scroll simply added a skill to the usable move list. Using it myself made emotional.
I shifted my attention to the twilight sky and my growling stomach. Since I hadn’t eaten anything since morning, I stopped training and hauled my sorry arms to the villa.
Entering the villa, the lobby full of furniture took my breath away for the wrong reason. Without a servant, the hall was dark, giving off a liminal vibe. This location would have been suitable as a Backrooms level if it featured fluorescent lighting.
While I stood still, I heard a noise from the front gate. Horse wagons parked there, and the guards in front of the gate allowed them to enter. Distracted by the noises, I exited the villa to see the newcors.
The horse wagons stopped at the parking area at the side of the villa. Young maids stepped down from the vehicles with their luggage. As they spotted , they called the elder maid, who exited her carriage last.
The elderly lady carefully stepped down from the wagon and approached . She bowed and greeted .
"You must be the Fla Knight that Lord Zen spoke of. I am Dorothy, and I will be your head housekeeper for this estate. It is a pleasure to et you, Your Grace."
Sothing seed wrong here. I scratched my head.
"Are you sure you’re serving the right person? ? Not the princess?"
Dorothy grinned. "The won with you are extras. To us, you’re our real master."
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