~ Push the story forward with your Power Stones
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Adventurer's Hall, Testing Center.
Orum was waiting in line again.
Just moments ago, Lila had told Orum to come to the testing center for a "combat technique test" to activate his quasi-professional status.
After all, the last time he came to the Adventurer's Hall, Orum had only done a simple registration without demonstrating his combat techniques, so naturally he couldn't be recognized by the Adventurer's Hall.
Conducting this combat technique test didn't require much time.
Because the number of people in this world who could execute combat techniques was inherently scarce, theoretically speaking, Orum shouldn't need to wait in line.
But sometimes luck was just that bad.
When Orum arrived, someone happened to be one step ahead of him, undergoing testing at the same time.
"Stand inside the white line! Listen to my command! No starting early, no delays! Otherwise, get lost!"
A thunderous roar exploded, the voice so rough it was like two pieces of raw iron grinding against each other, shaking the entire stone building until it buzzed and trembled.
Orum looked up to see a man who resembled a veteran soldier. The skin on his face was deeply furrowed, as rough as limestone.
Though he looked over seventy and his body was beginning to weaken and stoop, the entire man still radiated a dangerous aura like a dormant beast.
He was the testing center's instructor, Charles, nicknamed "Iron Ball," a veteran who had personally slaughtered over a thousand monsters.
At this moment, standing before Charles was a crew-cut muscular man comparable to a bugbear.
His upper body rippled with muscles, his back as wide as a door panel, forming an inverted triangle shape.
In his hand, he gripped a giant warhammer almost as thick as his calf. His entire presence commanded respect without anger.
Hearing Charles's order, the muscular man responded and stepped into the square outlined by white lines.
"Begin!" Charles's booming voice exploded.
The muscular man gripped the warhammer tightly with both hands, took a deep breath, his chest rising high, then let out an explosive shout!
"Haaah——!"
Under Orum's shocked gaze, accompanied by a crisp sound of tearing fabric, the clothing on the muscular man's body was actually torn apart by his terrifyingly expanding muscle mass!
In an instant, torn cloth scattered like butterflies.
"Combat Technique: Heavy Strike!"
That now completely naked muscular man, like a titan god stepping out of myth, swung the warhammer with both hands, stirring up a fierce wind, and slammed it down toward the ground before him!
The hard stone slabs suddenly shattered, leaving a shocking crater.
Faced with such exaggerated destructive power,
Charles's old face remained expressionless, his voice coldly commenting:
"Crude technique, power structure completely chaotic, can't even control your own strength—actually tearing your clothes apart.
Slow as a snail. By the time your hammer comes down, a tyrannosaur could have its fill feasting on your corpse."
Faced with Charles's venomously harsh critique, that tremendously strong man acted like a child who'd made a mistake, nodding and bowing repeatedly, not daring to offer a single rebuttal.
It was just that at this moment, all his clothes were shredded. He could only cover his privates with his palms, making him look rather comical.
"Go back and practice these two shortcomings until you drop! Otherwise, on your next mission, just wait to be torn apart by monsters!"
"Alright, you pass."
Charles announced, taking out a stamp and pressing it down with a "thump" on the muscular man's file, then waving his hand to dismiss him.
"Next."
My turn!
Orum calmly walked into the square.
His snowsteel sword left its sheath, gripped in his hand. His legs stood firm, his body slightly lowered, assuming the standard stance for [Thrust].
Charles, whose eyes had originally carried a trace of impatience, saw his pupils slightly contract the instant he saw Orum's posture.
"Standard posture. On the surface, completely motionless, but in reality, all the muscles and tendons throughout his body are like a drawn bowstring, coiled and ready to strike.
This is a stance forged through countless repetitions."
Looking at Orum's posture, Charles's expression became serious for the first time.
"Begin!"
The instant Charles announced it, Orum fiercely stepped forward. His entire form suddenly blurred, transforming into an afterimage nearly impossible for the naked eye to capture, surging forward with explosive force!
A dazzlingly bright sword light flashed, like a silver bolt of lightning, appearing and vanishing in the dim air of the testing hall in a flash!
Before the sharp sound of tearing air had completely dissipated, Orum's figure had already re-solidified, his long sword steadily thrust into the air at the position of a person's forehead.
This astounding sword strike was incredibly fast. Even with Charles's eyesight, he was nearly dazzled by the sword light.
"Mastery level... this is absolutely a mastery-level combat technique!"
Charles froze. He looked in disbelief at Orum, who had just executed the combat technique before him. He only looked about eighteen years old, so young, yet he'd already hammered a combat technique to mastery?!
Could this be another monster who started gripping a sword right after being weaned and, aside from eating, drinking, and sleeping, spent every day practicing swordsmanship?
"Sir, did I pass?" Orum's calm voice pulled Charles back from his shock.
Seeing Charles's stunned expression, Orum already understood in his heart that he must have passed the test.
Nevertheless, he still politely approached and addressed the veteran.
"...You passed."
Charles took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the tumultuous waves in his heart. He picked up the stamp and pressed it heavily onto Orum's file.
When Orum turned and his upright figure bearing the snowsteel sword departed, the cloudy old eyes of Charles held an exceptionally complex expression.
When stamping the document, Charles had glimpsed that on Orum's file, in the "Professional Goal" column, the words "Sprite Knight" were written.
"Archfey..." Charles murmured the word in a low voice, his brows tightly knit together.
Warlocks, also called pact-makers, refer to a class of people who sign unequal contracts with powerful supernatural beings to obtain power.
These contract partners have a specific designation: "Patrons."
Types of patrons include angels, ancient gods, archfey, demons, and others.
Different types of patrons grant pact-makers different powerful abilities and issue completely different directives.
Take demon patrons, for example—those lords entrenched in the Nine Hells or the Abyss.
Their contracts exist only to spread chaos and evil across the material plane, to corrupt souls and incite wars.
As for archfey, among all patrons, their reputation was the most delicate.
They weren't purely evil like demons, nor would they easily drive contractors insane like ancient gods, yet mortals kept an even more respectful distance from them.
Because archfey were often capricious, unpredictable in temperament, pursuing greater freedom and amusement.
For insignificant mortals, this amusement often meant an unbearable catastrophic disaster.
Instantly, in Charles's mind, the mystery surrounding Orum seemed to have an answer.
To be able to practice a combat technique to mastery at such a young age, aside from his own hard work, the patron behind him must have also provided tremendous assistance.
But in this world, behind every gift lies a corresponding price.
Making deals with things humans cannot comprehend will inevitably lead to no good ending.
Thinking of this, Charles's eyes held a trace of pity.
Orum was a good prospect, yet he'd embarked on a dead-end path like a moth flying into flame.
Oh well. Before this kid was toyed to death by those fairies, he might as well give him a few pointers.
Even if his ending was destined to be tragic, if before that he could slay more monsters for the kingdom, then his brief yet brilliant life would at least be a worthy death.
...
Orum didn't know the veteran had so much internal dialogue going on.
As he walked, he mentally calculated the monthly benefits after becoming a quasi-professional.
Quasi-professional meant that every month he could receive a subsidy from the Adventurer's Hall: complete any one mission, and he could receive an additional 5 gold coin reward once per month.
If completed as a team, they needed to complete three missions to receive rewards for all quasi-professionals in the party.
For Orum, compared to being a lone wolf, he was more inclined to join a team.
After all, hunting monsters wasn't like dueling in an arena. Each time entering the forest required trekking a long distance, camping and living in the wilderness for days or even weeks before reaching the target location.
After arriving, they still needed to carry various spoils of war back along the original route.
A team meant taking turns standing watch with vigilance, and it also meant being able to share the burden of heavy spoils.
If someone got injured, the team would also lend them aid, maximizing protection for the injured person's life and mobility.
More importantly, in the wilderness, an individual's strength was far inferior to a well-coordinated team.
Many times when encountering powerful monsters, a lone wolf could only choose to retreat, while a team could overcome it and thus earn greater profits.
So adventuring wasn't just about fighting and killing. Out here, it was about relationships and social intelligence, about influence, about backing.
Lost in thought, Orum had already returned to the main area of the hall. He submitted the stamped file and received a brand new adventurer's badge in return.
This badge looked more high-end than the previous brass badge.
The new badge displayed a restrained matte silver color throughout, emanating a faint glow.
On the front of the badge was an embossed crossed sword and shield symbolizing strength and protection, and around the sword and shield, several fairies danced gracefully like butterfly wings.
This was a "Sprite Knight" quasi-professional badge.
And on the day he truly stepped into the professional realm, this badge would be replaced by one forged from pure silver.
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