Chapter 33: Conditions

The Mist Forest was vast and boundless, its dense magical air nurturing countless creatures in this mysterious land of dense woods and bushes.

Four Rust Beasts, five adventurers, a tense, life-or-death battle.

In the grand scope of the forest, it was just one of countless predator-prey, eat-or-be-eaten struggles happening every second.

The campfire flickered.

Orange-red flames seemed to meld into the night, becoming a hazy mist swirling around.

After the battle, I, and the others hurriedly packed, and under Wood’s lead, we relocated the camp before the sun fully sank.

“Hiss! Easy, easy.”

Larry, forehead beaded with sweat, carefully unwrapped the hastily tied bandages on his arm with Doris’s help.

Rust Beast venom was deadly to metal gear; a few drops, left unchecked, could erode gaping holes like an ant’s nest.

On human flesh, its toxicity was milder.

Like a burn, it stung fiercely but wasn’t fatal.

Despite Larry’s dramatic reaction, as if gravely wounded, Doris, though visibly annoyed and muttering, carefully changed his dressing.

At the camp’s center, the half-elf and his guard discussed tomorrow’s plans in low voices, the earlier tension gone, their dispute forgotten with the battle’s end.

I sat alone by a tree, near the fire.

But now, I wasn’t maintaining my polished beheading longsword.

Instead, I focused on roasting jerky.

After a tumultuous day, I needed food to replenish stamina.

As a rookie adventurer with few missions under my belt,

even with my past-life values and decent funds, willing to spend extra on supplies,

I’d brought only hard black bread, smoked meat, overly salty dried fish, and miscellaneous food—enough for five days.

Not that I was stingy, but the Mist Forest’s environment spoiled fresh food quickly.

Thinking I’d just gather Fire Garlic Vine and stay one night, I’d followed the [Adventurer’s Handbook], buying basics from a checklist.

Now, I wished I’d spent a few more silver coins for better provisions.

I sliced the heated smoked meat with my dagger, popping it into my mouth.

“Hm… at least it’s warm.”

Tasting the odd flavor, I consoled myself.

My mind drifted to days ago at the White Sparrow Tavern, splurging 3 silver coins on that feast.

“That mushroom soup was really good.”

I smacked my lips.

Speaking of, though I hadn’t seen them, this world surely had proper mages.

Maybe “spatial rings” or “storage spells” existed.

If I could get such an item, carrying supplies and loot like Rust Beast carapaces would be easy.

I gave a self-mocking chuckle.

Felt like the protagonist in that “emperor’s golden hoe” joke from my past life.

“Xia Nan? Thinking about what?”

A hushed call snapped me back.

I looked up to see Larry, bandages changed, standing nearby.

He held a small basket.

“Here, for you.”

Before I could reply, he shoved it into my arms.

A glance showed a palm-sized glass bottle and cloth-wrapped parcels.

“Double-needle bee honey, bought from ‘Elf’s Leaf’ bakery—famous, try it,” Larry said, pointing at the golden, viscous liquid, his expression lively like a livestream salesman.

“And these goat cheese wedges, made by Doris’s family. Great taste, especially with jerky, tsk, that flavor…”

“Oh…” I held the basket, surprised but nodding thanks. “Thanks.”

I meant to chat more, maybe about the mission.

But Larry seemed to have come just to deliver, saying, “When we’re back in Nyum, I’ll show you a good time,” before scurrying back at Doris’s urging.

Sizzle—

Under the flames, dagger-sliced cheese melted onto reddish-brown jerky, giving off a milky aroma.

Popping it in, the otherworldly cheese’s salty-sweetness transformed the dry jerky into something else.

My eyes lit up, my tired body and mind easing.

Looking at Larry and Doris whispering in the distance, my gaze grew complex.

When I joined, I thought they were the clichéd “pursuer” and “pursued” from my past life.

Larry’s fawning and Doris’s aloofness made it hard not to think that.

But after a day together,

I saw Larry, though fawning, wasn’t spinelessly servile; Doris, often annoyed, wasn’t always distant.

“Hard to read.”

I shook my head, puzzled.

“Strange, right?” Noticing my gaze, Hai’an smiled, speaking up.

“What if I told you they grew up together?”

Hm? Childhood sweethearts?

My curiosity grew, and I asked:

“Then why do they…”

“Seem awkward, right?” Hai’an glanced at them, voice low. “It’s complicated.”

“Larry’s father is a famous Nyum merchant; Doris’s parents, before their cheese shop, were his family’s stewards.”

“That’s how they met. And after…”

Realizing it wasn’t proper, Hai’an trailed off:

“What followed is like a stage play.”

I still didn’t get it.

Since he stopped, I didn’t press, shifting to him instead.

“And you? Why’d you come to the Mist Forest?”

Hai’an’s body stiffened.

His silver-gray eyes flickered, hesitating, then he exhaled, as if letting go.

He pulled the jet-black token from his pouch.

Fingers rubbing its surface, he said softly:

“When I was little, before bed, I’d pester my mother for stories.”

“They were always the same few, not as lively as Aunt Polly’s.”

“But…” a breeze stirred, revealing his long ear beneath silver hair, “those stories were from her homeland.”

“Trickster flower sprites, treefolk guiding the lost, dreams woven from jade and emerald…”

“Only on those nights, in her gentle voice, could I forget the day’s stares, not care about… myself.”

His elven silver-gray eyes reflected the flickering firelight.

He glanced at Wood, who seemed about to speak.

Sighing.

“I know this token’s style differs from my mother’s clan heritage.”

“But this is my last chance. I have to try.”

“After this mission, with or without results, I might not leave home again.”

“No, young master!” Wood replied firmly, but a flicker of hesitation crossed his face, murmuring, “No.”

I’d just asked casually, not expecting the mood to turn heavy again.

Glancing at them, my mind raced, changing the subject:

“By the way, Wood, you’re a professional, right?”

“With an actual class rank.”

Wood’s expression turned odd.

“You didn’t know? I thought you’d figured it out.”

“Haha, it’s only my second mission.” I scratched my head, laughing.

“I’ve never met a real professional, so I’m curious.”

“Second!?” Hai’an’s ears perked, catching the keyword.

“You told Larry you’re a newbie, and it’s true?”

Before I answered, Hai’an’s shocked gaze landed on my iron-gray longsword.

“That combat technique wasn’t rookie-level.”

Hearing his surprise at my [Whirlwind Slash], I grew puzzled.

“What? Don’t you all know combat techniques?”

Hai’an looked like he’d discovered a new continent, exclaiming:

“Wait! Your mentor didn’t teach you this?”

“Mentor? Never had one.”

“Then where’d you learn that technique?”

My predecessor’s experiences held nothing worth hiding, and the half-sheet skill book for [Whirlwind Slash], fruitless for the family, had long been fed to the barn cow.

I told them how my predecessor got the skill book and, after years of practice, saw sudden changes.

!?

“So, you swung a sword at half a sheet for years and mastered it!?”

Wood’s face showed a vivid expression unseen even in battle.

Hai’an, speechless, stared at me like I was an alien—

not wrong, in a way, since I was an “alien.”

Seeing their reactions, even slow as I was, I realized this body was unusual.

In my past life, an ordinary office worker who’d barely fought, yet after transmigrating, I could hold my own against monsters.

Though raw, my instinctive choices in battle were often precise.

Plus, right after transmigrating, I had a near-maxed [Whirlwind Slash]…

Did this body, and my past self, have some combat talent?

Seeing my genuine reaction,

Wood, though still surprised, regained his calm and explained the world’s combat techniques.

Per Wood, due to varied professions and effects, Ephara’s combat techniques were as numerous as stars.

But neither the Adventurer’s Guild nor other groups had a clear ranking system.

They roughly divided them by proficiency: Beginner, Skilled, Mastered.

Even the line between “Beginner” and “Skilled” was blurry.

“What about ‘Mastered’?” I frowned, asking.

Wood, now accepting me, smiled vividly, saying mysteriously:

“Unlike the first two, ‘Mastered’ techniques are easiest to distinguish.”

“Once you hone a true technique to ‘Mastered,’ your efforts pay off instantly.”

“In short, reaching ‘Mastered’ boosts a specific physical quality dramatically.”

“Some techniques even grant related special skills upon mastery.”

I instantly recalled facing the bear goblin, raising [Whirlwind Slash] to “lv5” max, gaining two attribute points and the “Chopping Master” specialty.

So, the system’s lv5 was this world’s “Mastered”?

Then lv1-2 was “Beginner,” lv3-4 was “Skilled”?

Realizing this, I pressed:

“So, ‘Mastered’ techniques are rare?”

“Of course!” Hai’an’s eyes widened.

“Mastering a related technique is a key condition for gaining a class rank!”

Class rank!?

Excitement surged, my breathing heavy.

“What else? What are the other conditions?”

“How do you become a professional?”

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