Chapter 77: Free Skill II

Chapter 77: Chapter 77: Free Skill II

Tapping into the institutional tactical registry on his smartband, Eric began filtering through the hundreds of High-Mortal Grade, Rank-D manuals projected before him in crisp, luminous script.

Since he already possessed Advanced Swordsmanship at Major mastery, claiming a basic weapon mastery manual would be a redundant waste of a free D rank skill. What he truly required was an active martial technique, an offensive art that could weaponize his newly purified, starlight-dense liquid mana into raw, destructive kinetic force.

After weeding through blunt-weapon overhead smashes, great-axe cleaves, and close-quarter dagger flourishes, he narrowed the vast directory down to three distinct sword skills:

INSTITUTIONAL TACTICAL REGISTRY: LOW-MORTAL SKILL MANUALS

[Skill: Crescent Slash]

Rank: D (High-Mortal Grade)

Description: Condenses and channels liquid mana along the blade’s edge, discharging a pressurized, curved crescent of kinetic energy with a forward swing. Deals heavy slashing and concussive damage across mid-range.

[Skill: Rapid Stab]

Rank: D (High-Mortal Grade)

Description: Concentrates mana at the weapon’s piercing point, unleashing a high-velocity, continuous flurry of linear thrusts against vital points. Deals heavy localized piercing damage.

[Skill: Sword Guard]

Rank: D (High-Mortal Grade)

Description: Coats the blade, fuller, and crossguard in a dense barrier of stabilized defensive mana, executing a kinetic parry to absorb and deflect violent physical impacts and elemental strikes.

Eric rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his dark eyes analyzing the three options.

*Rapid Stab is out,* he reasoned quickly. *A high-frequency thrusting flurry demands absolute linear reach. It’s engineered for rapiers, or spears. On a balanced, straight-bladed arming sword like the Wavecaller, locking myself into a rigid thrusting corridor cuts off my lateral sweeping arcs and limits my spatial recovery.*

That left the eternal tactical dilemma: offense versus defense.

*Crescent Slash* or *Sword Guard*?

On one hand, *Sword Guard* offered immense defensive survivability. Paired with the elusive evasiveness of *Shadow Steps*, a stabilized defensive parry would make his centerline practically impenetrable, allowing him to neutralize crushing blows from rift monsters or rival tamers.

On the other hand, Eric currently possessed zero ranged projection of his own. If Coal was grounded, suppressed by an aerial predator, or locked into a pincer maneuver elsewhere, Eric was forced to close the entire distance on foot. A pressurized mana projection like *Crescent Slash* would finally grant him a lethal, mid-range severing strike.

*The best defense is an overwhelming offense,* Eric decided, a sharp, predatory glint igniting in his eyes. *Besides, if my footwork is fast enough, I won’t need to absorb impacts, I’ll simply evade and sever.*

"Screw it. I’m taking the attack."

He tapped the screen with a decisive thumb, locking in his selection: *Crescent Slash*.

*PING.*

[SELECTION CONFIRMED: CRESCENT SLASH (RANK D)]

Authorization: Institutional Armory Grant. Dispatching physical transcription folio...

Less than thirty seconds later, a low-profile wheeled courier drone rolled smoothly across the black-iron tiles, halting directly before his boots. A top-mounted magnetic hatch popped open with a soft hiss, presenting a crisp, leather-bound booklet embossed with the crossed-swords insignia of the institution.

"Convenient," Eric muttered, scooping up the manual.

*WHISTLE—!*

General Harlan Holt’s shrill silver whistle pierced the cavernous drill hall, instantly snapping five hundred chattering students back into rigid, dead silence.

"ALL EARS ON ME!" Holt bellowed, his voice echoing off the reinforced steel rafters like rolling thunder.

"Every recruit has received their authorized technique! Open the folios and begin drilling your forms immediately! Ten assistant combat instructors are stationed across the floor, if you encounter meridian friction, poor edge alignment, or balance instability, ask them! Do not dare bother me with your basic incompetence unless you’re prepared to run twenty laps around the outer bulwark in heavy gear!"

Holt stepped back toward the raised command platform, leaving the sprawling arena floor buzzing with activity.

Eric flipped the manual open, glancing sideways at Edward. "What did you end up pulling? I went with Crescent Slash."

Edward gave a satisfied smirk, sliding his practice trench daggers into his leather belt loops.

"I chose *Throw and Retrieval*. It allows me to infuse my daggers with compressed mana, hurl them across mid-range like javelins, and violently recall them back into my palms on mental command. Perfect for keeping targets off-balance while Wendy maneuvers through their blind spots."

"That sounds ridiculously lethal," Eric nodded with genuine respect. "A flying dagger ambush from behind while you’re pressing their guard in the pocket? Dirty as hell."

Eric then turned his gaze toward the siblings. Jim was still awkwardly adjusting his broad grip on the long wooden polearm, while Jenna was examining a quiver of blunted practice arrows with wide, starry eyes.

"What about you two? What did you pick?"

"Just *Advanced Spear Mastery* for me," Jim said with an easygoing, broad grin.

"And *Advanced Archery* for me!" Jenna chirped proudly, giving her shortbow an energetic twirl.

Edward tilted his head, eyeing the two of them with an arched, skeptical brow.

"You know, I’ve been wondering since the orientation convocation... are you two actually twins? You finish each other’s sentences, share the same beast-nurturing track, and act completely in sync, but you don’t look alike at all."

Jim’s rugged, square-jawed features and dark hair looked completely distinct from Jenna’s softer facial structure, round cheeks, and chestnut curls.

Jim and Jenna exchanged a quick, knowing glance and burst out into synchronized, unrestrained laughter.

"That’s because we’re fraternal twins, non-identical!" Jenna giggled, giving Jim’s ribs a playful poke with the tip of her unstrung bow.

"Ohhh!" Eric and Edward chorused in unison, the lingering puzzle pieces finally falling neatly into place.

Before another word could be spoken, a looming shadow fell across their group. A muscular assistant instructor with heavily scarred forearms and an unamused scowl stepped into their circle, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

"Hey, you four! This is a combat training ground, not an afternoon tea party in the capital gardens! Cut the idle gossip and start drilling your forms before the Major General glances this way and orders all four of you to run until you heave your breakfast!"

"Yes, sir!" the four of them answered in immediate unison, scattering across their designated sector of the black-iron floor to begin their drills.