Chapter 38: Advanced Swordsmanship

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Advanced Swordsmanship

By the time dusk painted the valley in vivid shades of crimson and violet, Eric and Coal had felled a total of four Gorgefiends.

The limiting factor wasn’t the combat itself, their coordinated strategy of blinding clones, shadow steps, and armor-shredding talons made each engagement smooth and controlled. The real challenge lay in tracking solitary targets. Most of the lumbering brutes roamed in bonded pairs or territorial packs, forcing Eric and Coal to spend hours scouring the jagged limestone ravines to isolate lone wanderers.

Still, turning in the four colossal carcasses at the municipal trade exchange netted a handsome 80,000 credits for a single day’s work.

Sitting on the edge of his bed that evening, scrolling through the Hunter Association’s certified martial archive on his smartphone, Eric rubbed his chin in deep contemplation.

*During my fights, I rely almost entirely on raw physical reflexes, basic thrusts, and desperate parries,* Eric thought, inspecting the weapon manuals available on the network. *If I want to survive the brutal practical trials of the regional academies, I need a structured martial foundation. I should invest in a proper Swordsmanship manual.*

A *Basic Swordsmanship Manual (Mortal Low-Grade, Rank F)* was relatively accessible, priced at an affordable 50,000 credits.

However, a *Mortal High-Grade Advanced Swordsmanship Manual (Rank D)* carried a steep price tag of 500,000 credits, ten times the cost of the beginner swordsmanship.

"Ten times the price..." Eric sighed, leaning his head back against the pine wall. "Still, settling for an F-rank foundation would only cap my ceiling and force me to unlearn bad habits later. If I grind the ravines for a full week, half a million credits is well within reach. Plus, seven days of steady hunting will build up our high-grade mana stone stockpile for the next cultivation phase."

With only two months remaining before the prestigious Academy entrance registration opened, every scrap of independent combat prowess was critical. Elite institutions didn’t just evaluate the raw power of a contracted beast; they tested the tamer’s personal martial capability, battlefield awareness, and independent survivability when separated from their partner.

***

The subsequent seven days unfolded in a disciplined, rhythmic grind.

From the first light of dawn until the sun dipped beneath the mountains, Eric and Coal systematically hunted the ravines without taking a single hour off. Over the course of the week, Eric banked a total of 520,000 credits from offloading raw hides, marrow bones, and salvaged monster parts.

Without a second thought, he logged into the Association’s martial pavilion and finalized the transaction for the *Mortal High-Grade Advanced Swordsmanship Manual* for exactly 500,000 credits.

Looking down at his refreshed bank ledger, sitting at barely twenty-some thousand credits, Eric couldn’t help but shake his head with a wry chuckle.

"I pulled in over half a million credits in seven days and ended up flat broke an hour later. Am I wealthy or destitute? The cost of power is absurd."

Unlike the esoteric mana circuits of Shadow Steps, swordsmanship was rooted in kinetic physics, skeletal alignment, leverage, and temporal pacing. Opening the digital manual, Eric was greeted by a dense archive of technical diagrams, grip variations, footwork pivots, and kinetic force-transfer equations.

Stepping out into the moonlit backyard of Sunshine Home, Eric drew his steel shortsword from its scabbard with a crisp hiss.

His first dozen attempts felt stiff and disjointed. His wrists wobbled against the phantom impact of a heavy strike, his footwork lagged behind his blade, and the balance of his center of gravity was completely off.

Then, as sweat began to bead on his forehead, a warm clarity flared behind his retinas.

*Rank-C Skill Comprehension activated.*

The talent didn’t magically bypass physical training; instead, it acted as a master instructor inside his mind. It pinpointed every micro-flaw in his form, highlighting when his elbow flared too wide, where his hip rotation bled kinetic power, and how his stance left his ribs exposed.

With each subsequent swing, Eric adjusted his posture in real time.

Sinking his weight into a low, balanced center of gravity, he drilled the foundational forms over and over. He held his blade in a poised high guard before driving the steel forward in a sharp, descending diagonal cut.

*SWISH.*

He pivoted smoothly into a rising cross-slash, driving the torque straight from the rotation of his hips and core rather than relying on crude arm strength. Step, pivot, thrust.

For two unbroken hours under the moonlight, Eric drilled the stance transitions, shifting from an unyielding center guard to a sweeping hanging parry, refining the exact 45-degree deflection angle required to redirect a heavy club or crushing beast claw without shattering his wrists.

Through sheer repetition and heightened analytical comprehension, the awkward mechanics gradually fused with his muscle fibers. The transitions between defense, recovery, and counter-strike began to flow into cohesive, instinctual reflexes.

Then he felt something in his status change.

Eric called up his interface to verify the integration:

│ STATUS PANEL

│

│ Name: Eric

│ Race: Human

│ Cultivation Stage: Mortal

│ Level: 7 (98%)

│ Talent: Appraisal (Rank D), Skill Comprehension (Rank C)

│ Skills:

│ - Shadow Steps (Rank D) [Mastery: Minor]

│ - Advanced Swordsmanship (Rank D) [Mastery: Entry]

│ Contracted Beast: 1/1

The cool night air whistled as he initiated the foundational forms.

Sinking his weight into a low, balanced center of gravity, Eric held his blade in a poised high guard before driving the steel forward in a sharp, descending diagonal cut.

*SWISH.*

He transitioned fluidly into a rising cross-slash, generating kinetic torque from the rotation of his hips and core rather than mere arm strength. Step, pivot, thrust.

Eric drilled the stance transitions repeatedly, shifting from an unyielding center guard to a sweeping hanging parry, practicing the exact 45-degree deflection angle required to redirect a heavy club or crushing beast claw without shattering his wrists.

Every strike sliced through the evening air with clean, whistling precision. His Rank-C comprehension burned the kinetic geometry into his muscle fibers until the transitions between defense, recovery, and counter-strike flowed as smoothly as breathing.

Lowering the blade, Eric exhaled a long, steady breath, feeling the rich mana in his heart throbbing at *Level 7 (98%)*. A breakthrough to Level 8 was due before the sun rose.

He looked over at Coal, who was perched silently along the wooden fence line, his pitch-black, intelligent eyes reflecting the silver moonlight as smoky Shadow elemental mana curled around his ivory claws.

"Once I cross into Level 8 tomorrow," Eric said, sheathing his shortsword with a crisp, metallic click, "I’m going to take on a Gorgefiend completely on my own."

He smiled, his eyes burning with focused resolve.