Lumberling awoke slowly, eyes blinking against a pale ceiling.
'Where am I? What happened? Ugh, my head…'
He tried to sit up, but pain shot through his entire body. He groaned.
"Don't move," said a familiar voice. "You'll only make it worse."
Lumberling turned his head and saw Instructor Sorin sitting near the window, book in hand.
"Instructor… Sorin?"
"Good, you still recognize me. That means your brain's intact," Sorin said with a smile, closing the book.
"What happened? Why am I here?"
"You collapsed in the training hall. I didn't know where you lived, so I brought you to my place to rest."
"Oh… I see. Thank you."
"I know you're obsessed with training, but don't ever push yourself that far again. You're lucky your body didn't give out for good."
"I appreciate the concern, Instructor, but… I went through something. Something extraordinary. I couldn't stop."
Sorin raised an eyebrow. "Something extraordinary?"
Lumberling explained everything—his trance-like state, the flood of memories, the feeling of awakening. He hoped Sorin might make sense of it.
"Hmm… That sounds like what we call a 'Limit Break,'" Sorin said. "Others might call it enlightenment, but the proper term is exactly that—a moment when you surpass the ceiling of your natural talent. It usually happens through extreme training, trauma, or accumulated experience. In your case, it was probably all three."
"So that's why I suddenly advanced my skill?"
"Yes. Skills don't always grow steadily. Sometimes, they explode past their limits when you reach a threshold. You reached yours."
"…Thank you for explaining, Instructor."
"You earned it. I'm proud of you."
Lumberling hesitated. "I'll be leaving the dojo soon. I wanted to thank you—for everything."
"So soon?"
"I need to return to my hometown… and I'm running low on funds."
"Unfortunate. I'm losing a hardworking student." Sorin gave him a pat on the shoulder. "But if you ever return, we'll always have space for you."
Lumberling nodded, then returned to his inn. The first thing he did was pull up his status window:
Name: Lumberling
Race: Human
Age: 19
Level: 4
Essence Points: (2904 / 3500)
Power: 1227 (Skills: 857, Level: 370)
Knight Stage: Knight Page
Active Skills:
Beginner Sprint Lv0 (828/1000)
(Grants a burst of lightning-fast speed. Consumes a large amount of stamina.)
Passive Skills:
Essence Devour
(Automatically devours the essence of those you kill. Absorbs a portion of their special experiences and memories.)
Beginner Pikeman's Art Lv4 (1/1000)
Beginner Swordsmanship Lv2 (0/1000)
Beginner Bowmanship Lv0 (437/1000)
Beginner Shieldmanship Lv0 (259/1000)
Beginner Cudgel Fighting Lv0 (134/1000)
Beginner Concealment Lv1 (89/1000)
Beginner Dual-Wielding Axe Lv0 (1/1000)
'I can feel it. Level 4 won't be my limit. I've broken past the wall… All is good. I wonder how strong you've become, Skitz.'
Though he received monthly reports, Lumberling was eager to see the goblin village with his own eyes.
That night, dressed in a hooded cloak and mask, he made his way to the Vellmont Hall—Novgord's premier merchant store. It was the same organization behind the auction he had once attended. The moment he stepped inside, a beautiful staff member greeted him.
"Good day, Sir. What may I help you with?"
'Damn, she's beautiful.'
"I'm looking for skill manuals. Are there any available for purchase?"
The woman's eyes lit up.
"Of course! What type of skill are you seeking?"
"Something for concealment, speed, or shields."
"We currently have no speed-enhancing skills, but we do offer a skill close to concealment and shield-related manuals."
"Great. Can I see them?"
"Sure. Please wait a moment."
She returned with four manuals, laying them out like treasures.
"For shields, we have:
Iron Wall – Root yourself like a mountain, absorbing all impact.
Shield Brace – Dig in and absorb blows without losing balance.
Bastion Stance – A wide, grounded stance for resisting charges.
And for concealment, we have:
Shadow Glide – Doubles speed, silences footsteps, and blends into surroundings."
Lumberling's eyes sharpened. "How much?"
"Each shield skill is 2 platinum coins. Shadow Glide is 2 platinum and 70 gold coins."
"Why the difference?"
"Rarity. The shield skills are mediocre tier. Shadow Glide is a rare mediocre tier, and it can help you reach a Knight Apprentice stage if trained to the limit."
He checked his pouch—just 3 platinum coins and some gold. He'd burned through the rest in the dojo and day-to-day expenses.
"I'll take Shadow Glide. I'll come back for the rest another time."
"Thank you for your purchase, Sir. If you need anything else, we'll be happy to help."
As always, Lumberling followed his safety routine—looping around the city to ensure he wasn't followed before returning to the inn. That night, he began packing for his journey.
One morning, instructor Sorin stood in the courtyard, arms crossed as he watched Lumberling strap the last of his gear to his back. The dojo was quiet—most students were still asleep. Morning mist clung to the stone tiles, and only the soft rustle of leaves accompanied their silence.
"You're really going then?" Sorin asked, his voice low.
Lumberling nodded. "I've learned what I needed. It's time I take the next step."
Sorin approached, gaze serious. "You're not the same kid who walked in here pretending not to care about skill forms or stances. You were reckless, raw... but you never stopped pushing."
Lumberling gave a faint smile. "That sounds like a compliment, coming from you."
"I don't give compliments. I state facts." Sorin smirked. "And the fact is—you've outgrown this place. For now."
There was a brief silence between them.
Then Sorin reached into his coat and pulled out a worn leather-bound book. "Take this. It's not much—just notes I wrote when I was your age. Observations, mistakes, a few tricks I never bothered teaching the others."
Lumberling accepted it with both hands. "Thank you, Instructor."
Sorin looked away, clearing his throat. "Don't get sentimental on me. Just don't waste what you've got."
"I won't," Lumberling said, voice steady.
As he turned to leave, Sorin called out one last time. "Lumberling."
He stopped and looked back.
"If the day comes when you can best me in a spar… I expect a rematch. No excuses."
Lumberling chuckled under his breath. "I'll hold you to that."
With that, he stepped through the gate and into the fog. Behind him, the dojo felt both distant and close—like a chapter carefully closed, not forgotten.
The following day, he had joined a merchant caravan heading toward a city near Uncle Drake's village. It would cut down his travel time by a month and offer protection along the way.
"Grandpa, why is that man wearing a mask?" a little girl asked, pointing.
"Shhh, don't point. That's adult business," the old man said gently.
"Okay…"
Lumberling ignored the stare, quietly seated in the carriage. The party included merchants, travelers, and guards—one of whom was a Knight Apprentice.
The trip was largely uneventful. When monsters attacked, they were easily repelled.
During a midday break, Lumberling roasted a rabbit he had hunted. The smell drew the girl again.
"Mister, that looks delicious. Can I have some?"
"Jen! Don't be rude," her grandfather scolded.
"But Grandpa, I'm hungry…" the little girl whimpered.
"Come, Jen," the old man said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll look for some fruit in the forest."
Lumberling silently tore the roasted rabbit in half and handed one portion to the girl.
"So your name is Jen? That's a nice name," he said, offering the food. "Here, share this with your grandfather."
Jen's eyes lit up with joy. "Thank you, mister!"
She ran back to her grandfather, holding the meat high like a treasure. "Grandpa, look! We got food!"
The old man glanced over at Lumberling, then bowed his head with a quiet, grateful smile. "Thank you," he mouthed.
Lumberling gave a faint nod and returned to his own meal in silence.
An hour later, the caravan was back on the road.
Three days passed.
Lumberling sat cross-legged in the corner of the carriage, quietly meditating, the hum of wagon wheels and creaking wood lulling him into focus. His breathing was steady, calm.
Then—clang!
His eyes snapped open beneath the mask.
The sharp clash of steel rang out nearby—too close. Normally, he would've dismissed it as another skirmish with beasts, but this… this was different.
He moved quickly and quietly, setting down his bag. Just as he reached for the window to assess the situation—
BANG!
The carriage door burst open, and a wild-eyed man with a bandana over his face stormed in, sword drawn.
"Everyone out!" he barked. "Or I'll start killing. You've got until the count of three."
People inside the carriage froze in fear. Jen clutched her grandfather's robe, trembling.
"One…"
"Grandpa!" she cried.
"Two…"
Screams and panic erupted.
"Three—"
Whssshk!
A silver flash zipped through the air. A dagger embedded itself cleanly in the man's neck.
His sword clattered to the floor.
The bandit's eyes widened in confusion. Blood bubbled at his lips as he staggered backward, then collapsed in a heap at the doorway, twitching once before falling still.
(You have devoured the Bandit's essence. 5 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Bandit's memories and experiences.)
No one spoke. For a long second, the only sound was the bandit's final breath fading into silence.
Jen clutched her grandfather's robe tightly, her eyes wide, unsure whether to cry or stay quiet. The other passengers stared, frozen, still registering what had just happened. A single dagger had ended the threat in an instant—before the man could even finish his threat.
And then all eyes turned to the masked man.
Lumberling stood slowly, stepping over the body, eyes cold behind the mask.