Chapter 48: Gratification

[Everly Rose Combo]

[Heavy Dance Instant Slash]

[Royal Cross]

[…]

I stared at the combat skill books in my hands, my widened eyes as if trying to discern something extraordinary from their dusty covers.

“Where’s my golden finger?”

“Do something!”

I focused all my attention, concentrating intensely.

But the familiar translucent text didn’t appear before my eyes as it had before.

After so many days in this world, I had largely confirmed that my “attribute panel” golden finger only worked for weapons, equipment, and changes to my own feats and attributes.

But when I came to the general store hoping to use it to find usable combat skills and came up empty-handed,

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

“Maybe it’s because these are all fakes, so no attributes show up?”

Consoling myself, I muttered inwardly.

The air in the store fell silent.

Nearby, Kukunur, who had been tactfully pretending to busy himself while covertly watching me for a while,

showed a trace of hesitation on his neatly groomed face.

His emerald-green eyes glanced at the empty shop entrance, ensuring no one was around to overhear words that might offend the black-haired youth before me.

After mentally organizing his words, he spoke slowly:

“Customer, from your attire, you must be a respected adventurer.”

“No offense meant, but… judging by the price I quoted, you can probably guess the quality of these cheap goods varies widely.”

“If you’re just taking them back for reference or amusement, buying a few is no issue.”

“But if you’re hoping to find the kind of ‘combat skills’ required for professional advancement, even with the best luck, it’s quite difficult.”

Feeling his words might be too blunt,

Kukunur nervously fidgeted with a button on his vest, adding:

“My main concern is you getting injured. Many of these skill books have irregular training methods.”

“If you don’t mind, I can give you a few for free, but please don’t treat them as real ‘combat skills’ to practice.”

I wasn’t upset by the shopkeeper’s warning.

I smiled, shaking my head to decline while signaling I was fine.

Days ago, I had learned from Wood and Hai’an about this world’s combat skills.

Without precise ways to distinguish authenticity, 99.99% of the countless “combat skills” circulating on the market were traps that wasted adventurers’ time and energy.

The cost of trial and error was too high.

A wrong choice could squander months or even half a year.

Without other opportunities or help from a professional, relying on a skill book bought from a roadside shop to master a legitimate combat skill was a pipe dream.

I had asked Kukunur about prices partly to test if my golden finger would work, and partly to try my luck.

Now, I had my answer.

But leaving without buying anything felt like a waste.

After some thought, I crouched down and picked two combat skill books from the box.

Shaking them by the spine to dislodge the dust,

I asked, “Just these two. How much?”

“No need, customer. Consider them a gift.”

“It’s fine.”

Not wanting to owe favors or take advantage of a few coppers,

I slipped the coins into Kukunur’s hands and walked out of the general store.

In countless novels from my previous life, protagonists found treasures in unlikely places, so I instinctively avoided the flashy, thick skill books over half a finger’s width.

I chose the thinnest, most straightforward ones:

[Forward Thrust] and [Block and Upward Slash].

I casually stuffed them into my backpack.

Looking at the noisy, bustling street ahead, I pondered:

“Hm, next up…”

“Time to visit the blacksmith.”

…

As a highly praised blacksmith shop in River Valley Town, featured in the [Adventurer’s Handbook], “Rockhammer” was never short of business.

When I arrived with my backpack, the shop’s owner, “Barn Steelbeard,” was assisting a plain-looking, simply dressed middle-aged man.

He was examining a two-handed pole spear, his gaze tracing from the handle’s base to the spearhead, checking carefully.

He occasionally swung it, testing its weight and balance.

After haggling with Barn, he reluctantly counted out four gold coins and some scattered silver and copper, handing them over with both hands.

From his expression—pained yet pleased—it was clear the middle-aged man was very satisfied with the spear.

Passing by me, he even nodded sheepishly, as if apologizing for delaying me.

Treating him as a passerby, I returned the nod and paid no further attention, heading straight to Barn, the owner of “Rockhammer.”

“Huh?”

With just one glance, the burly man, who claimed dwarf blood yet stood a head taller than a bear goblin, recognized me.

But rather than focusing on changes in me, his attention was elsewhere.

“Your mission must’ve been quite dangerous!”

Barn eyed the blood-stained, tattered leather armor on me, remarking pointedly.

After all, he had personally sold me that armor not long ago, a fine piece for 10 gold, now reduced to this state—how could he not care?

“I did run into a tough one. Thanks to your armor, or I might not have made it back.”

I didn’t share specifics, just laughed it off with a compliment.

As if I’d hit exactly the right spot, Barn’s hearty laughter echoed through the blacksmith shop.

“Hahaha, good to hear!”

“It’s probably unwearable now. Take it off—I’ll give you three silver for it!”

His expression was one of gratification mixed with immense pride.

As a dedicated blacksmith, selling a crafted piece for a high price might prove others’ recognition of his skill.

But what truly moved him was feedback like this—proof that his carefully forged equipment had served its purpose in real combat.

Even if his painstakingly crafted gear was now scrap, as long as it fulfilled its mission and let its owner stand safely before him,

it made Barn happier than selling items for hundreds or thousands of gold.

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