Initial Growth

“One hundred and eighty-five times!”

Ewan stared at the clock on the wall with bloodshot eyes, a look of pure, unadulterated, manic joy spreading across his exhausted face.

“I can finally last more than thirty seconds against the assassin!”

No matter how you sliced it, she was a powerhouse, at least a third-rank martial artist. Ewan, on the other hand, was just a late-stage first-rank newbie whose level had been propped up by a lifetime of expensive potions and coddling. The gap between them was a gaping chasm. To be able to hold his own for a full thirty seconds was a monumental achievement, one that had cost him an amount of hardship—and repeated, gruesome deaths—that few could possibly imagine.

At the very least, the nearly two hundred times he had died were all excruciatingly, vividly real.

“I see now that I can’t keep training like this without limits.”

Ewan rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the stabbing, needle-like pain in his brain from being pushed to its absolute mental limit. “Otherwise, I’ll have a complete mental breakdown before I get any stronger.”

“Using the black book isn’t without its costs,” he concluded. “Although I don’t really die, the strain on my mind is immense.”

“But still,” he grinned, “it was all worth it!”

Ewan excitedly flipped open the black book. Under the section recording his own personal information, two new lines had appeared, glowing with a faint, promising light.

【Dagger Combat LV2】

【Shadow Step LV1】

“I’ve finally gotten my foot in the door.”

Nearly two hundred brutal deaths had finally allowed Ewan to bridge the chasm between their ranks, to begin to see the patterns in the assassin’s deadly attacks, and in the fiery crucible of life-and-death terror, to make her skills his own.

“It’s just a start, of course. I’m nowhere near as good as she was. But once you’ve mastered the basics, everything else becomes much easier.”

With enough time, Ewan was confident he could absorb all of the assassin’s techniques, turning her deadly arts into his own power!

“Hehe, I can’t wait. Let’s see how this baby works in the real world.”

Ewan hopped off the bed, moved the table and chairs to clear some space, and then rubbed his hands together nervously. Although he had used the skill many times against the assassin’s simulation, that was in the metaphysical space created by the book. He wasn’t sure if he could use it as smoothly in reality.

“Whatever. There’s only one way to find out.”

Ewan took a deep breath, centering himself. Then, just as he had learned through two hundred brutal, life-ending practice runs, he focused all his attention on the soles of his feet, his heels, and his ankles. He felt a hot current of energy gather at the bottom of his feet, as if something were about to erupt.

Now!

A sharp glint appeared in Ewan’s eyes. All the power gathered in his feet exploded outward, like a miniature volcano.

In an instant, the world blurred into a streak of color. The desk, a good seven or eight meters away, was suddenly right in front of him.

He had done it!

“I did it…” Ewan first muttered in dazed disbelief, before the excitement in his eyes erupted with the force of a super-volcano.

“I DID IT!”

He was so happy he could barely contain himself.

To be inexplicably transmigrated into this dangerous fantasy world, and as a disposable, good-for-nothing blond villain who could die at any moment… Ewan had been living in a constant state of extreme, gnawing anxiety. Especially when the plot had completely derailed from the original novel and his one advantage—his knowledge as a transmigrator—had become useless, his anxiety had bordered on sheer terror.

But now, everything was different. With the black book, even a useless aristocratic fop like him could claw his way to power through his own blood, sweat, and repeated deaths!

This was just the beginning!

Ewan couldn’t help but clench his fists in raw, unadulterated excitement.

“As long as I work hard, I can even change my own destiny!”

…

“But the foot pain… I can’t…”

“Ow… damn it! Nobody told me using this move would hurt my feet!”

Just a few seconds after his grand, heroic declaration, Ewan was already on the floor, crying a river of pathetic tears. He hadn’t expected Shadow Step to have such a massive, debilitating side effect. Just using it once made his feet throb with a pain so intense it felt as if they had been shattered with a sledgehammer.

“No, wait. This probably isn’t a side effect.”

“It hurts this much… I refuse to believe even a hardened, professional assassin could use this without batting an eye.” Ewan quickly realized the problem. “My rank is too low. This isn’t a skill a first-ranker should be learning. It’s a martial art that’s meant to be used in conjunction with battle aura!”

The first rank for a warrior was called “Body Forging.” As the name suggested, it was all about constantly training one’s body to become stronger. The barrier to entry was extremely low. Rich nobles could easily reach the peak with a steady diet of precious medicinal herbs and proper training. Commoners could get stronger just by lifting weights, doing push-ups, and eating meat.

The real dividing line—the wall that separated the boys from the men—was the second rank.

After reaching the peak of Body Forging, a warrior would begin to generate an energy called “battle aura” from within their body. Learning how to purify, temper, and use this battle aura was the second rank for a warrior: “Qi Refining.” Coating a weapon with battle aura increased its power exponentially. Infusing it into the body greatly enhanced one’s physical strength and durability. For a warrior, the difference between having battle aura and not was like the difference between heaven and earth.

“Simply put, Shadow Step is a technique that instantly focuses all your power into your feet and then explodes it outward. It’s no surprise that it puts a massive strain on them.”

“I need to use battle aura to strengthen my body to withstand that strain.”

“In the dark space, it was just my consciousness, so it didn’t matter. But in reality, the limits of my physical body are also crucial.”

“As I thought… I’m still too weak.” Ewan sighed, a little dejected.

But this time, he didn’t stay down for long. Although he had once again been confronted with his own weakness, this was still a good start. At the very least, he had confirmed that the skills he learned through the black book’s brutal trials could be translated into real-world abilities.

“Time to revise the plan!”

Once the searing pain in his feet had subsided to a dull throb, Ewan staggered to his feet and went to his desk. He took out the “grand master plan” he had just written, thought for a moment, and then held it over a candle, watching it curl and burn to ashes.

“I shouldn’t think about things that are too far off. It only causes more stress. For now, I need to focus on the present.”

Ewan took out a new sheet of paper and, based on his current, painful situation, began to formulate a new, more realistic plan.

“First,” he wrote, picking up the quill with a determined hand, “I must find a teacher.”

Objective 1: A Teacher.

The nearly two hundred battles with the assassin had not only shown Ewan his own weakness but also the limitations of this kind of simple, masochistic training. This brutal real-world practice had indeed helped him improve quickly in many areas. But for the one skill he wanted most, the Shadow Step, he had made no progress at all until he could finally see the assassin’s movements clearly. If he had a teacher to guide him, step by step, he probably wouldn’t have had to go through so much suffering.

“Speaking of which, the new term at Saint Marika Academy should be starting soon.”

Ewan suddenly remembered this important fact. The one thing Saint Marika Academy had in abundance was excellent teachers. But a few seconds later, he kicked the idea out of his head.

“Why would I go to school? Isn’t being a shut-in better?”

“The last thing I want right now is to run into the protagonist!”

“Not to mention, Celicia is there too.”

And when it came to a martial arts teacher, didn’t he have a much better option right here?

A wicked grin spread across Ewan’s face as he added a name after the words “A Teacher.”

Rhun Campbell.

His dear old dad.