What a sha... If only he could've actually brought a full-blown cheat system over with him.
Then he could've just maxed out all his attributes and skills and lived like a god in this other world.
Robb flipped through the pages of Introduction to Potioneering, diligently morizing and taking notes while letting his mind wander with idle fantasies.
Still, what he had now wasn't bad at all. The attribute and skill growth bonuses from stacking multiple supernatural classes would snowball, the further along he got, the more explosive the numbers would beco.
[Basic Potioneering EXP 1]
Another notification appeared. Robb could feel his understanding of Potioneering deepen by another fraction.
The feeling was like weaving a vast net, where every piece of knowledge was a node.
And each ti his understanding deepened, new connections sprouted between those nodes.
This was growth, watching the numbers tick upward bit by bit, feeling knowledge take root and sprout within his mind.
Not so vague sense of "I think I get it," but clear, visible, quantifiable progress.
How wonderful would it be if learning on Earth worked this way? he couldn't help but think.
If everyone could see in real ti that their efforts were being permanently preserved, quantified into precise numbers, that tangible sense of progress, that certainty that hard work would always be rewarded, it would be enough to make anyone addicted to the pursuit of knowledge.
To Robb, this was more fulfilling than anything in his previous life. Every mont, he could feel himself growing. Every ounce of effort left a clear mark on the panel.
...And so, ti slipped quietly away in the absorption of knowledge.
In the cramped room, candlelight flickered day and night, casting wavering shadows across book pages and notes.
For the past week, aside from eating and sleeping, he had poured nearly every waking mont into studying Potioneering.
"The potency of evening primrose decays over ti after harvesting, but if picked during a full moon, its efficacy can last an entire month. Spider-grass must be cut horizontally to preserve the maximum amount of mana within it, while silver calamus should be sliced at an angle to enhance its potency."
Properties of ingredients that had once been obscure and impenetrable now ford vivid connections in his mind.
Knowledge was no longer rigid text on a page, it had beco understanding woven into his very being.
[Basic Potioneering EXP 1]
[Basic Potioneering EXP 1]
[Basic Potioneering EXP 1]
...
[Basic Potioneering (Beginner 5/50) → Basic Potioneering (Proficient 9/100)]
[Acquired Bonus Trait: Accelerated mory (mory capacity increased)]
A week had passed in this near-obsessive imrsion.
This nurical improvent represented countless monts of intense focus. On average, a full day of grueling study yielded roughly ten experience points. Fortunately, the "Accelerated mory" trait he'd gained was a pleasant surprise.
But the further he progressed, the slower the gains beca. He could already foresee that reaching the next stage would take at least several more months of hard work.
So the top priority was to complete his class change into the most basic [Potion Apprentice] as soon as possible. The rate of skill experience accumulation without a class was painfully slow, like watching a turtle crawl.
As for the combat class [Mage Apprentice], he still didn't know what the class change requirents were. It seed he hadn't yet t the conditions to even unlock that information.
Just as Robb was mapping out his next steps, a light knock ca at his door.
"Hey, Robb? You still alive in there?"
A voice tinged with amusent drifted in from outside. "Haven't seen you in the common area for a whole week. I was starting to think you'd quietly mummified in your room."
Robb looked up and saw a handso face peering at him through the half-open door.
The young man had striking golden hair, and even the most ordinary gray-white apprentice robe couldn't conceal the effortless elegance in his bearing.
Robb searched his mories. This fellow who seed so familiar with him was, Arnor, the Thirteenth Prince of the kingdom, and one of the few people from his holand here in the Black Mist Forest.
Back in the kingdom, unlike his other royal siblings who radiated ambition, Arnor had always presented himself as humble and courteous, perhaps even excessively low-key.
Rumor had it that this put several of his elder brothers at ease, as they believed this younger sibling had no interest in the struggle for the throne.
Yet now, His Highness the Thirteenth Prince stood wearing the sa gray-white apprentice robe as Robb, leaning against the fra of his shabby door.
"Is His Highness concerned about ?" Robb teased. "Too bad House Stark's allegiance isn't sworn to you."
"Oh, knock it off with the 'Highness' business." Arnor waved his hand dismissively and slumped against the doorfra.
"In here, we're all the sa. Son of a count, thirteenth prince, in front of the mages, those worldly titles are nothing but empty nas."
His gaze swept across the desk and suddenly stopped on the dog-eared copy of Introduction to Potioneering.
Sticky notes were cramd between nearly every page, and so corners had curled from being turned so many tis.
"Don't tell ..."
Arnor's voice carried a note of disbelief.
"You spent this entire week studying that?"
Seeing Arnor's surprised expression, Robb suddenly realized how insane his behavior over the past week must look to an outsider.
After all, most Initiates with little hope of advancing chose to kill ti in the common areas or seek shortcuts, like currying favor with those who had already beco apprentices.
Soone who locked themselves in their room to study? That was exceedingly rare.
"That's right." Robb nodded, his fingers absently brushing the pages. "I've found that Potioneering is surprisingly interesting."
"Interesting?" Arnor raised an eyebrow, his expression turning serious.
As a prince raised in the royal court, well-versed in reading people, he could naturally see the change in Robb.
That kind of focus and composure in his eyes, it absolutely couldn't be faked.
"Looks like you've genuinely gotten sothing out of it."
Robb was about to reply when he noticed Arnor's gaze had drifted to the thick stack of notebooks on the desk.
The notes were nearly twice as thick as Introduction to Potioneering itself, every page filled to the margins.
"You wrote all of this in one week?"
Arnor looked at the topmost notebook, lying half-open. Neat handwriting and clear diagrams greeted his eyes.
In many places, supplentary explanations and questions had been annotated. Judging by the varying freshness of the ink, so questions had already been answered through later study.
"To be precise..." Robb pointed to the thickest notebook. "This was my first one. Back then, a lot of concepts were still unclear, so I wrote everything in extre detail. As my understanding deepened, the notes gradually beca more concise."
Arnor's gaze lingered on the copy of Introduction to Potioneering for a mont, his expression complicated.
Too many people had hit a wall with Potioneering. So apprentices studied for years without even grasping the basics, let alone reaching proficiency within a few short months.
This book had originally been his, he'd given it to Robb after determining he had zero talent for Potioneering, figuring he might as well pass on the book he'd spent a fair number of Mana Crystal Fragnts on.
"Do you rember where that book ca from?" Arnor asked, seemingly casual.
Robb thought for a mont and quickly recalled. "You gave it to , Your Highness. You said Potioneering wasn't really your thing and that you were going to focus on Enchanting instead."
Arnor's gaze swept over the densely packed notes on the desk, and a strange look crossed his face.
"It seems you're far more diligent than I ever was. Just one week, and you've already produced this many notes."
"Honestly..." he began, affecting a light tone, "I didn't expect you to go down the Potioneering path. You know, plenty of experienced apprentices have stumbled hard in Potioneering. Just reading books and taking notes probably won't..."
Arnor let out a soft chuckle, trailing off, but his skepticism was plain enough.
Enchanting, Alchemy, Potioneering... these were all the exclusive playthings of the gifted. He'd tried his hand at all the major mage's arts, and without exception, he'd failed at every one.
Had he not once been just like Robb, desperately searching for a way out under the crushing pressure of a ticking clock?
But reality was cruel. No branch of sorcery was easy to master. Those with the talent for it weren't exactly one in ten thousand, but at least one in a hundred, and that was one in a hundred among Initiates who already had magic aptitude.
Robb smiled, more or less guessing what Arnor was thinking. He didn't mind, and casually changed the subject.
"Speaking of which, I haven't seen Triss in a while. Has she been..."
Before he could finish, he noticed sothing unexpected. the Thirteenth Prince, who had always displayed impeccable composure, lost control of his expression for a split second.
Though Arnor quickly reassembled his elegant, easy-going deanor, that brief lapse had not escaped Robb's notice.
"Oh, her?" Arnor maintained his graceful smile, his tone deliberately breezy. "She's already an Interdiate Apprentice. Completed her ascension ceremony just last month. As expected of the only genius among us hotown folk."
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