At dawn, just as the sky began to lighten, Dalko’s eyes shot open.

The young noble lord turned his head, glanced at the pale sky outside the window, and gave a lazy yawn.

After collecting himself for a moment, he slowly rose from his goose-down mattress.

A servant, who had long been waiting respectfully outside, heard the movement and immediately knocked lightly on the door.

"Young Master Dalko, are you awake?"

"Mmm..."

With the nasal tone unique to early mornings, Dalko rubbed his drowsy eyes.

"Come in."

"As you command."

The door swung open, and several well-trained servants filed in, pushing a cart of carved walnut wood.

With professional and attentive service, Dalko quickly completed his morning routine of washing, dressing, and eating.

Once everything was in order, he leaned on an oak walking stick and headed out, surrounded by his personal attendants.

Crossing a somewhat slick, gravel path, the group arrived near the manor’s stables.

Dalko looked around and soon spotted a handsome young man.

He was currently holding a brush, standing before a black horse.

The dawn light outlined his tall but not too slender figure.

Though only seventeen or eighteen, the immaturity had already faded from his features. He had a high-bridged nose, a sharp jawline, and a pair of amber eyes that looked exceptionally keen in the faint light.

His excess black hair was tied neatly back, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead, making his complexion seem even more pale and cool.

Though his chain armor was hidden beneath his inner tunic, a faintly visible corner was enough to reveal its exceptional quality. The silver-gray metal rings glinted coldly in the dawn light.

The dark brown linen robe he wore over it fluttered slightly in the breeze, revealing the iron sword hanging at his waist.

The scabbard was plain and unadorned, but the leather on the hilt was worn shiny, a clear sign of frequent use.

His boots were spattered with mud, and leather bracers were wrapped around his wrists. His entire bearing exuded an air of competence and composure.

...

...

SCRAPE, SCRAPE, SCRAPE!

The brush swept rhythmically across the black horse’s back, tracing smooth arcs on its glossy coat.

After fine dust fell away with the motion, Roland knelt on one knee and carefully lifted the black horse’s front hoof.

Clumps of dried mud were caked on the edge of the horseshoe.

With the crisp CLACK of an iron hook scraping against it, the brown clods broke off and fell to the ground.

The final step was washing.

The wooden bucket tilted slightly, and a silvery stream of water splashed onto the horse’s back, washing away the remaining bits of straw and dust completely.

The black horse suddenly shuddered, its mane flying.

The moment countless glistening water droplets flew into the air, a line of gold text slowly materialized in his vision.

[You have successfully completed one horse grooming task and gained one experience point.]

But Roland only glanced at it briefly, his hands never pausing in their work.

He took a dry cake mixed with hay and oats from a saddlebag, gently crumbling it into bite-sized pieces in his broad palm.

Just as the black horse obediently lowered its head to enjoy its breakfast from his palm, another line of gold text appeared.

[You have completed one horse feeding task and gained one experience point.]

’If I’m not mistaken...’

Roland gently stroked the black horse’s mane, his fingers running through the thick hair as his thoughts drifted.

’Getting Horse Grooming, Feeding Horses, and Basic Riding Skill all to full level should unlock a Groom-type profession.’

’I just don’t know what this profession’s traits will be... And if it synergizes with other professions, what kind of extra benefits will it provide...’

At this thought, Roland willed it, and a translucent Professional Panel immediately appeared before his eyes.

[Name: Roland]

[Race: Human]

[Age: 17]

[Professions: Blacksmith Apprentice, New Recruit, Student, Blacksmith, Hunter]

[Power: 7.8]

[Agility: 4.7]

[Spirit: 1.8]

[Skills: Level 2 Basic Forging Skill (6/200), Level MAX Basic Swordsmanship, Level MAX General Knowledge, Level MAX Secret Silver Body Tempering Technique, Level MAX Basic Archery, Level MAX Basic Dagger Skill, Level MAX Basic Spear Skill, Level 3 Lion Swordsmanship (18/300), Level 1 Flowing Slash (12/100), Level 1 Basic Riding Skill (18/100), Level 1: Horse Grooming (8/100), Level 1: Feeding Horses (8/100)]

[Traits: Modest Apprentice, Preparation for War, Concentration, Animal Companion, Heart of the Furnace]

[Extra Benefits: Hundred Refinements Steel, Theory and Practice, Standardized Production, Ecologist, Adaptability Training, Battlefield Maintenance]

As his gaze swept over the densely packed "MAX" labels on the panel, the corners of Roland’s mouth lifted slightly.

’Not bad for half a month’s work.’

Half a month of hard training had increased his Power by 0.2 and his Agility by 0.1.

As for Horse Grooming, Feeding Horses, and Riding Skill, he had only unlocked them after specifically asking Dalko to take him to the stables.

Seeing his enthusiasm, Dalko had even generously gifted him this black horse.

And just as he had expected, basic combat skills like Basic Dagger Skill, Basic Spear Skill, and Basic Archery, just like Basic Swordsmanship, all had a max level of Level Two.

Under the effect of the [Preparation for War] Trait, he had quickly maxed them all out.

’For the five full-level combat-related skills required for the Warrior profession change, I’m only missing Lion Swordsmanship...’

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn other combat skills, but the manor guards were mostly skilled in battlefield combat, so they excelled more in swordsmanship and spear techniques.

If Dalko hadn’t found an old veteran who had been a mercenary, he wouldn’t have even been able to learn Basic Dagger Skill.

’But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to hunt demons next anyway. Relying on the [Theory and Practice] Trait, I should be able to max out Lion Swordsmanship quickly.’

Just as Roland was lost in thought, a voice suddenly called out to him.

"Roland!"

Following the voice, he saw Dalko hobbling toward him, leaning on that familiar oak walking stick and surrounded by several servants.

"So? How is he?"

Dalko patted the horse’s neck, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Black Wind is pretty great, right?"

Black Wind was the name Dalko had given the black horse.

Although it was a bit cliché, Roland didn’t mind and went along with it.

"He’s a good boy."

Roland smiled faintly, his palm stroking down the horse’s back.

As his fingertips felt the satin-smooth texture, a look of approval appeared in his eyes, but inwardly, he sighed softly.

It wasn’t that he was dissatisfied with the horse, but when he tried to communicate with Black Wind using his [Animal Companion] Trait, the effect was far from what he expected.

If Red Squirrel Qiao from the forest had the intelligence of a teenager, then Black Wind was, at best, like a three-to-five-year-old child.

He could understand simple commands but struggled with more complex communication.

Because of this, his efficiency when practicing his Riding Skill wasn’t as high as he had imagined.

"When are you planning to leave?"

Dalko asked as he unfastened an ornate dagger from his waist.

The silver sheath gleamed softly in the morning sun, and the hilt was finely engraved with a family crest.

"Take this. If you run into trouble, show it to the sheriff in Songmu Town. He’ll recognize it as one of my personal effects."

Roland frowned slightly, his fingertips gently rubbing the sheath.

The luxurious feel of it made him instinctively want to refuse, but when he looked up, he met Dalko’s sincere gaze.

"In that case, I’ll take it."

"That’s more like it!"

Seeing that Roland didn’t thank him this time, Dalko laughed heartily and clapped a heavy hand on Roland’s shoulder.

Then he suddenly leaned in close and lowered his voice.

"When you get back, you have to tell me all about what it’s like to be an adventurer."

The young noble lord glanced furtively at the surrounding servants and complained.

"I’ve been cooped up inside for half a month, my bones are getting rusty! Heaven knows when my father will let me go hunting again..."

"Hahaha!"

Roland was amused by Dalko’s frustrated expression.

"You’ll have to wait until that leg of yours is healed, won’t you?"

"I doubt it..."

Dalko pouted and shook his head with feigned misery.

Amid their lighthearted banter, Roland deftly swung himself onto his horse.

As Dalko watched, man and horse gradually disappeared down a wooded path to the east of the manor.

The journey was unexpectedly peaceful, with only the changing scenery to mark his progress.

The once-wide road gradually narrowed, while the pine trees on either side grew taller and denser.

As the sky began to dim, the mottled walls of Songmu Town finally appeared at the end of the road.

The gate guard stared at Roland’s handsome face, his brow furrowed as he spoke in a gruff tone.

"I don’t care if you’re a mercenary or a so-called adventurer..."

He paused, clearly irritated.

"Just remember, don’t cause any trouble in town. Got it?"

From his impatient expression and harsh tone, it was easy to see that this guard had been worn down by the constant stream of mercenaries and adventurers passing through town.

After nodding with a smile, Roland dismounted and led his horse through the walls into Songmu Town.

The streets were much more crowded than he had imagined.

Roland led his horse forward at a slow pace, his boot soles treading on a muddy road mixed with horse manure. The air hung with a mixed scent of ale, sweat, and rust.

The crooked wooden houses on either side leaned against each other as if they might collapse at any moment.

Beneath some leather armor drying on a windowsill, a few unsheathed short knives dripped water.

The horse suddenly snorted uneasily.

Roland followed its gaze.

In the shadow of an alley, a thin man in leather armor was wiping a bloodstained longsword, while a burlap sack at his feet squirmed eerily.

Just as the two of them made eye contact, three drunken mercenaries burst through the tavern’s wooden doors, staggering outside.

Roland sidestepped the splashing beer foam and glanced instinctively inside the door.

He saw a female server with an eyepatch tearing a bandage with her teeth to dress a customer’s wound, but her right hand never left the sharp dagger at her waist.

BANG!

With a dull thud, wood splinters flew down from above.

The sound of a fight suddenly breaking out on the tavern’s second floor made everyone look up.

The moment a figure crashed through a wooden window and fell, a street vendor selling grilled meat skewers expertly flipped an oilcloth over his grill.

Roland keenly noticed that the man’s movement had a distinct blocking motion, and a metal bracer was faintly visible beneath his greasy apron.

’Good heavens... This isn’t a town, it’s practically a small military camp...’

"Newcomer?"

As he was marveling to himself, an old man smoking a pipe in front of the Blacksmith Shop suddenly spoke.

Illuminated by the embers, an old arrow scar was faintly visible on his neck.

Before Roland could answer, the old man pointed with his pipe stem toward a stone building in the center of town.

A banner with an emblem of crossed swords and axes hung under its portico.

"That’s the Adventurer’s Guild."

"Ah... thank you."

After giving a small nod of thanks, Roland led his horse toward a wooden post in front of the Adventurer’s Guild.

Just as he was about to tie up Black Wind, a fierce argument erupted from inside the guild.

"Go take a look at your reflection in some horse piss and see what you really are! You think you’re worthy of fighting me for a commission?"

Before the words had even faded, the guild’s heavy wooden door was kicked open violently from the inside.

Immediately after, a tall man tumbled out pathetically, rolling down the steps and into the muddy street.

Then, a brawny man nearly two meters tall stepped over the threshold, cursing. His shiny, bald head was covered in blue-black tattoos that had a ferocious glint in the dim sunlight.

He strode down the steps and gave the man on the ground a few more vicious kicks. Only when the man curled up and stopped moving did he spit on the ground, still unsatisfied, and straighten up.

When the bald brute looked up, his gaze happened to sweep over Roland, who was standing to the side, and a flash of contempt crossed his eyes.

However, when his eyes landed on Black Wind beside Roland, his fierce eyes suddenly lit up, gradually filling with greed.