Gauss didn’t know what the kids around him were thinking—if he did, he might’ve laughed.
The truth was, being able to train under a proper swordsmanship instructor already put these kids far ahead of most lower-tier adventurers. With that kind of foundation, their odds of becoming full-fledged professionals were way better than some self-taught outsider swinging a blade with no form.
There was no need for them to envy anyone.
Of course... if they tried to compare themselves to him, that’d be a whole different story.
The instructor, David, paused for a moment when Gauss mentioned Doyle’s name. He recalled teaching a rookie adventurer by that name for a while, so he lowered his guard and walked over.
“I’m David, swordsmanship instructor here.”
“Nice to meet you, Instructor David. I’m Gauss, a new adventurer. I’m hoping you can help me with some fundamental sword training and correct any bad habits I might have. How much do you charge?” Gauss got straight to the point. There was no need to beat around the bush when it came to business.
While they were talking, the other teens couldn’t help but whisper amongst themselves—curiosity buzzing in the air.
“Think he’s here to train like us?”
“Wearing all that gear, but I bet his basics are worse than ours.”
The two finished negotiating quickly. David quoted 50 copper coins per day for individual instruction.
That was noticeably more expensive than what he charged the others, but seeing Gauss’s gear—which clearly cost over 10 silver coins—David figured the young man could afford it. No harm in trying.
What surprised him, though, was how Gauss agreed without even blinking.
“You lot, keep training on your own,” David called out, turning back to Gauss with a smile.
He intended to give Gauss extra attention on his first day—make sure he had a solid experience so he’d come back for more.
David wasn’t a professional adventurer, but according to him, he was once this close to becoming a warrior. If not for spreading himself too thin, obsessing over too many weapon styles and sword techniques, he would’ve made it.
Gauss didn’t argue. Everyone tends to glorify their past a bit—just like students back in his old world who claimed their test scores didn’t reflect their “true ability.”
Still, despite his self-promotion, David clearly knew his weapons. He demonstrated techniques with longswords, broadswords, shortswords, daggers, rapiers, and even foils. His fundamentals were solid.
Watching David’s flashy demonstration, Gauss began to wonder if maybe the guy wasn’t exaggerating after all.
But ultimately, it didn’t matter. As long as he could teach proper basics, Gauss was content.
With David’s guidance, Gauss began practicing fundamental rapier movements. David occasionally corrected his form or pointed out inefficient motions.
Before he knew it, the day was over.
As Gauss left the training yard, he left behind a room full of stunned students and a very confused instructor.
“Instructor David… be honest. Are we just stupid?” one of the kids asked, clearly shaken.
David didn’t know how to respond. He’d never seen someone pick things up so fast.
Most of the time, all he had to do was casually point something out—and Gauss would fix it immediately, like he’d been doing it for years.
If I’d learned that fast… David thought. I wouldn’t have failed to go pro—even if I trained with every weapon under the sun.
Gauss stepped out into the sun and checked his Adventurer’s Manual.
“Swordsmanship Basics Lvl.1 (3/10)”
Wait, that’s a skill now? And it’s my first non-spell skill?
He scratched his head. He’d never heard of a skill before.
In his mind, a skill was something like Magic Missile or Doyle’s Cross Slash—a named, specific, activated ability.
But “Swordsmanship Basics”? What was that? Just… really solid fundamentals?
He didn’t feel like he’d unlocked any special move or technique. Everything just felt smoother and more natural when swinging his rapier.
He shook his head. No point overthinking it.
Having a skill was better than not having one. Maybe if he leveled it up more, it’d evolve into something interesting.
On the way home, he made up his mind not to come back tomorrow.
The 50 copper coins he’d spent? Totally worth it.
He’d already picked up most of what David had to offer about rapiers, short swords, and daggers. Credit to his 7 Intelligence and 6 Agility.
And maybe the Adventurer’s Manual had something to do with it too, but he had no hard proof. Until then, he chalked it up to talent and effort.
“Self-learned skills level up slower than spells,” he mused. “But that’s fine. Swordplay’s just a backup for me.”
Even if it took longer, steady progress would pay off. Plus, once a skill was unlocked, its level wouldn’t drop—it was his for good.
That night, after dinner at the tavern, Gauss felt his energy coming back quickly.
Once again, he was amazed by how effective Quick Digestion really was.
The next morning, Gauss resumed training Mage Armor.
He’d taken one day off to fix his weaknesses, but he hadn’t forgotten his identity as a spellcaster. Magic was his main path—and he got right back on track.
The following days passed in a blur of focused training.
“Mage Armor Lvl.2 (13/20)”
“Should be more than enough to go goblin hunting now,” he thought.
Satisfied, he gnawed on a strip of jerky, smiling.
His hunch had been right: if you practiced your skills during or right after a mission, they improved faster.
As long as he seized that golden window—working hard while the momentum was still there—he could level up quickly.
Even his downtime wasn’t wasted. Practicing sword drills while his mana recharged had pushed Swordsmanship Basics to Lvl.1 (5/10).
Even though his Strength and Agility hadn’t changed, he could handle his rapier more smoothly and precisely.
At this point, even if he didn’t use Magic Missile or Mage Hand, he could probably beat Doyle in a fair duel.
Especially with Mage Armor up—he could trade hits and come out on top.
Of course, that was just a mental exercise.
Being cautious by nature, Gauss would still rather stay at a distance—and blast enemies with a Magic Missile before they got close.