Chapter 16: Corona Swordsmanship, Black Market

Ron wanted to ask more questions, but upon seeing the other's gloomy expression, he chose to temporarily suppress his doubts. He knew very well that in this strange and terrifying dark world, sometimes knowing too much wasn't a blessing—it was a curse.

After saying goodbye to Andre and returning to his dormitory, Ron still couldn't calm his nerves. The bizarre scenes continued to replay in his mind, and the more he thought about them, the more unsettled he felt—almost nauseous.

"Where on earth did Locke get that banned drug from...?"

He muttered to himself, then opened his system panel to check his current status:

[Ron Ralph]

Age: 15

[Current Main Occupation: Knight Squire★]

[Current Secondary Occupation: Potion Apprentice★]

[Attributes: Constitution 1.4 / Spirit 1.6 / Magic 0.3]

**[Skills:

Basic Alchemy (Proficient)

Basic Meditation (Beginner)

Zero Ring Spell - Slime Splash (Beginner)

Potion Refining (Beginner)

Medicinal Herb Identification (Beginner)

Basic Swordsmanship (Beginner)

Breathing Body Building (Beginner)]**

[Special Talents: Dual Soul, Sun's Protection - Remnant]

[Strength Level: Knight Squire]

"At least I have a golden finger, so I don't need to take those shady paths," Ron muttered, feeling a bit comforted as he observed the steadily improving numbers on his panel.

Moreover, with the current pace of his meditation progress, there might even be hope for a breakthrough within the month. That alone could resolve many of his current problems.

Just then, another dull thump came from Darend's room next door, snapping Ron out of his thoughts.

"Damn sonic spell! Why did it fail again…" came the muffled, frustrated voice through the wall.

Ron gave a helpless chuckle and shook his head. His neighbor's persistence was truly admirable.

Despite failing every day, Darend never considered shortcuts. But at this rate, he probably wouldn't pass the apprenticeship assessment either.

Still, Ron had no time to worry about others right now...

As night fell, the dark, fog-covered jungle outside grew silent. But in certain hidden corners, shady transactions were still taking place.

"Did you hear? Another slave died in Tower 3."

"Yeah… Marcus has been experimenting with some kind of curse magic lately. His methods are seriously twisted…"

"Tsk, but being one of his slaves is still better than being a test subject or turned into monster feed. At least they live, even if they suffer nightly…"

Scattered whispers drifted through the end of the corridor, where several elegantly dressed female slaves had gathered. There was an air of arrogance on their faces. After all, in this world where the strong ruled absolutely, having a powerful backer was a form of capital.

Ron stood quietly behind his door. His senses, sharpened by body training, allowed him to hear the whispers clearly through the walls.

Most of the conversations were idle gossip—but sometimes, useful bits of information slipped through.

"That idiot Locke went to a black market merchant to get illegal drugs…"

"Well, it's not our concern. Those people only target apprentice candidates whose time is running out. They're doomed anyway, might as well make a bit of cash off them…"

"Black market merchant..." Ron silently repeated the phrase, committing it to memory. Having another source of information or resources was never a bad thing.

The footsteps eventually faded, and the corridor returned to silence.

Unbeknownst to him, the slaves who had spoken so loudly gathered respectfully before a gray-robed man after leaving the dormitory area—and received shiny fragments of magical stones in exchange.

The next morning, Ron awoke with the dawn, any trace of sleepiness long gone.

Knowing he had some time before his shift at the herb store in the Apprentice Market, he sat at his desk and opened the "Corona Swordsmanship" manual that Andre had given him.

This particular sword technique was designed to be used alongside the Coronal Breathing Method. It emphasized using breath to guide the body's rhythm, making each strike as hot and radiant as the sun itself.

To be fair, the academy was relatively generous to its apprentice candidates. While the dormitory single rooms weren't lavishly furnished, the space was large enough for him to train his swordsmanship comfortably.

"Let's start with the basic opening stance." Ron picked up his wooden training sword and stood in the middle of the room.

[Basic Swordsmanship Training Initiated]

[Please use the Coronal Breathing Method to guide your movements]

After two sessions of body training, he had gained a solid grasp of the Coronal Breathing Method. It didn't just steady his mind—it made every muscle move with purpose and power.

Inhaling deeply, he began to perform the opening slashes according to the notes.

The movements were awkward at first. But as his breathing and body began to harmonize, his swings became smoother and more fluid.

Each slash matched his breath: inhaling to gather power, holding it to focus, and exhaling to unleash it.

The wooden sword sliced through the air with a faint whistling sound.

[Basic Swordsmanship EXP +3]

[Basic Swordsmanship EXP +2]

[Basic Swordsmanship EXP +2]

...

[Current Progress: Basic Swordsmanship (Beginner 9/30)]

"Progress during the beginner stage is really fast."

Ron smiled at the data on the panel.

The technique synergized perfectly with the Coronal Breathing Method, making his training feel effortless and natural.

Each correctly performed swing etched the rhythm deeper into his muscle memory, making every motion increasingly powerful.

"This gives me an idea…" Ron murmured. "'Guiding the sword with breath'—maybe I can actually use this in real combat."

He continued practicing the basic slashes, and gradually the arcs traced by his wooden sword became smoother, more refined.

When his breathing was just right, even the simplest movements held a powerful rhythm.

Then came a sudden, urgent knock on the door, pulling him out of his focused state.

"It's me," came Andre's voice from outside—low and serious.

Ron put away the sword, wiped his sweat, and opened the door.

Andre entered quickly, face grim, and closed the door behind him.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said in a hushed tone.

Ron tensed.

Andre continued, his voice barely above a whisper:

"I just found out—Locke only took that risk because he received some news."

[End of Chapter 16]