The Hidden Ending Strategy of a Veteran in a Dead Game

Chapter 6: Skills

As I stood in disbelief at the unexpected evaluation, Nohr gestured toward me.

“Get up.”

“Yes, sir.”

I got to my feet immediately, now that strength had returned to my legs. He scrutinized my entire body.

“For the past month, I’ve observed your innate constitution. It seems bloodlines don’t lie.”

I had thought he was just working me to the bone, but apparently, he had been assessing me all along.

“You possess strength, elasticity, and flexibility that shouldn’t be possible for someone of your build. You’re what they call mugol! Truly a rare talent.”

It was the first compliment I’d ever received from him.

Was this a typical trait of old-school mentors? While they would nitpick endlessly, they were stingy with praise, which made it all the more valuable.

“Though, your hand skills are utterly abysmal.”

Nohr’s gaze shifted toward the storage room.

Inside, a pile of broken training weapons lay in disarray. There was quite a variety, too.

Over the past month, it wasn’t just physical training I’d undergone.

He had also tested my ability to wield weapons. Whether soldier, knight, or even a conscripted peasant, no one goes into battle empty-handed.

Combatants always take up a weapon, even if it’s crude. But not me.

“Swords, spears, maces, halberds, crossbows, bows—even shields. I can’t fathom why, but you’re incapable of using any of them.”

If I couldn’t handle even basic tools, how could I possibly manage weapons? It seemed even Nohr had never encountered a case like mine before. He scratched his head.

At first, he thought I was doing it on purpose and scolded me harshly. But after seeing me destroy every weapon I touched, even when trying my best to wield them, he had no choice but to accept it.

“You’d probably fail at using a fork and end up eating rice balls with your hands!”

How did he know that? The experience of a seasoned knight like Nohr was not to be underestimated.

“You’re all brawn. As for those hands… yes! Just think of them as tools for picking your nose!”

“I can wash my face with them, too, Instructor.”

“Wow, what an incredible achievement! I totally underestimated you!”

“Even at first, I said I’d fight with my fists rather than weapons…”

“Hah! And now a fool who can’t even put on gauntlets wants to punch armored opponents? You must think you’re born as a third-tier knight!”

My protest fell on deaf ears. He wasn’t wrong. 

To punch through steel, I’d need to wield mana like a third-tier knight. His argument was unassailable, so I shut my mouth.

“That said, the techniques you use aren’t bad. They’re surprisingly systematic. Did someone teach you?”

“I’ve done my own research. I’ve also incorporated things I read in books.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

The techniques he referred to were my mixed martial arts training.

On top of that, I had added the close-quarters combat I learned in the military, making my methods naturally systematic. 

After all, the purpose of those techniques was explicitly to kill or incapacitate opponents.

‘It’s a shame I can’t use the full extent of my CQC training due to my inability to wield a dagger.’

Because of my “kitten hands” trait, I couldn’t use any proper weapons.

I even tried strapping short swords and daggers to my arms, but somehow, they would always come loose.

While tools might work, anything classified as a weapon seemed to be forcefully rejected by the world itself.

“Your father and the head of the family, Duarc, created his own swordsmanship style when he was your age.”

An abrupt comment. Why bring up my father all of a sudden?

“Do you know how old he was at the time?”

“Uh, twenty?”

“No. Sixteen. That was before he even participated in the Grand Tournament.”

Nohr’s expression grew serious.

“And you, at fifteen, have already developed a complete martial art. I’ll personally certify it: what you’ve created is a legitimate discipline.”

It was a misunderstanding. The MMA I used was something I learned, not invented.

Of course, I couldn’t explain the truth. If I said, “I learned it on Earth,” no one would believe me. Best case, I’d be dragged off to the temple for an exorcism.

So, I simply nodded solemnly, maintaining a serious expression.

Satisfied with my response, Nohr grinned proudly.

“You and your father. Do you know what we call people like you?”

With a toothy smile, Nohr declared:

“We call them geniuses.”

A genius. The term for those with talents ordinary people could never hope to match.

“I’ll keep my eye on you. You’ve got potential.”

His voice was brimming with warmth.

Although it was a misunderstanding, being recognized as a genius by Nohr wasn’t a bad thing.

After all, Nohr was a Bayerle knight through and through.

He admired those with potential, strength, and exceptional skill.

Especially someone like him.

‘It’s his dream to personally raise a legendary warrior.’

That’s the real reason why Nohr, a war hero who ascended to the eighth tier, lingered at the training grounds. He didn’t enjoy being called “Instructor” for no reason.

In light of this, I made up my mind.

‘I’ll win him over with performances beyond his imagination.’

I had been contemplating my next steps anyway.

Despite everything, I needed to rely on the Bayerle name to move forward. The power of that name was significant, but my position within the family was perilously low.

‘It’s only natural.’

The head of the family never interfered with the competition among his children.

The Countess and Gaiden hated me, while the eldest, Zarhil, was too focused on his own growth to care about me. 

Only my younger sister, Eltz, seemed concerned for me, which was at least something.

Still, the fact remained: I had no faction supporting me.

Winning over Nohr, one of the family’s key figures, would be a game-changer.

“However, there’s a clear flaw.”

As I was lost in thought, Nohr’s voice snapped me back.

“A flaw, you say?”

“It seems your techniques rely on one critical assumption.”

Nohr spread his hands.

“That your opponent isn’t using a weapon. I confirmed it myself during our sparring.”

Thud, thud. He tapped the wooden club against his palm.

He wasn’t wrong. Modern martial arts were like that. If someone brought a sword to a match, they’d be the crazy one.

“Why do knights use weapons? Even at lower ranks, they’re powerful and give an advantage in reach. With your current methods, you can’t even defeat an armed soldier.”

I had thought he was just putting me through the wringer, but he had a sharp eye for identifying my shortcomings.

I was already aware of this issue and was planning to address it as part of my growth.

“Standing unarmed on a battlefield is no different from committing suicide!”

With a serious expression, he looked down at me.

“If you insist on walking the path of martial arts, you’ll need to find the means and potential to make it work. That’s my judgment. Remember it well!”

“Yes, sir. I will. On that note, could you observe my techniques further?”

“No. Training ends here for today.”

Nohr shook his head.

He pulled out a bottle of cologne from his pocket, sprayed it on himself, and adjusted his outfit.

Oh, great.

Now there’s a hand mirror.

He even combed his hair to tidy up a few loose strands.

“Where are you off to?”

He usually didn’t care about dirt smudging his clothes.

But now? He wasn’t wearing his usual rugged training outfit but a plain yet high-quality garment made of fine materials.

A date, perhaps?

As far as I knew, Nohr was well into his sixties and still single. It was an unusual prospect.

Here, the average age for marriage was around 19. As long as someone was capable, marriage proposals came regardless of age—whether for political alliances or other reasons.

Nohr, with his overflowing capabilities, had no shortage of appeal.

Could it be? Was spring finally arriving for him?

“This body, with my skills and status, naturally attracts many admirers!”

Ah, of course.

He wasn’t wrong, but why did it sound so aggravating?

“I’ll be away for four days. Don’t slack on your training. I’ll be checking.”

“Don’t worry, Instructor. Have you ever seen me idling around?”

“You’re diligent, I’ll admit that. But remember this: effort is a noble virtue, and it never betrays those who embody it!”

“Understood. Now, hurry along. Being late would be rude.”

“Tch! I’m going, I’m going!”

I guided the nagging Nohr off the training grounds and let out a small sigh of relief.

At first, I genuinely thought he was off to meet some secret lover.

But…

“If that were the case, he wouldn’t be taking a sword with him.”

Before leaving the training grounds, Nohr tossed aside the wooden club he’d been holding and picked up a sword from nearby.

Not only that. Muttering to himself, he strapped on several pieces of armor.

He was a knight, so arming himself wasn’t unusual. But would he do so just to meet a lover? And this was within Bayerle territory, no less.

Though, to be fair, this land wasn’t free of dangers.

Wherever a lord resided, there were always spies from rival territories or foreign nations.

Still, Nohr’s skills were more than enough to handle most assassins barehanded.

That confidence was why he often strolled around unarmored within the estate.

Ironically, that same habit would eventually lead to his demise.

His illustrious record in war had earned him both fame and enemies in equal measure. In the game, Nohr was killed in an ambush.

‘It’s not time for that to happen yet, though.’

Still, I would need to prepare. If Nohr were to become my ally, I couldn’t let him die such an untimely death.

For now…

“I just hope the one calling him isn’t the Countess.”

She was Gaiden’s mother and someone I would eventually have to contend with.

If she was scheming behind the scenes, escaping unscathed wouldn’t be easy.

Of course, knowing Nohr’s personality, he likely wouldn’t accept any of the Countess’ machinations.

“Enough. I need to focus on my own tasks.”

Pushing aside my wandering thoughts, I shook my head and refocused.

***

In the corner of the training grounds, I drove my fist into a training dummy.

Thud.

Nohr’s words echoed in my mind:

Your techniques assume you’re fighting an unarmed opponent.

With such limitations, you won’t even be able to defeat a soldier, let alone a mage.

“I know that already.”

The techniques I had mastered so far weren’t enough. Most people would have given up by now.

‘But I have the system and my unique constitution.’

I didn’t need to follow conventional methods. I had something others didn’t.

To push beyond ordinary limits, what did I need?

Mana cultivation techniques? That would certainly help, though they weren’t something I could acquire at will.

‘One month left. If Nohr doesn’t react within a week, I’ll bring it up myself.’

Whether by earning his favor, proving my qualifications, or pestering him, I would make him teach me.

Setting aside cultivation for the moment, what I needed most now was—

“A skill.”

That was it.

Even confined to the training grounds, even within the family estate, there were ways to acquire skills.

Hoo.

I took a deep breath and struck the training dummy again.

Thud.

It hurt.

The dummy, made of oiled wood wrapped in rope, lacked the cushioning of a sandbag.

It wasn’t meant for punching but for practicing with wooden swords.

I struck it again, harder this time, ignoring the growing pain.

Thump.

The Macrona Empire.

In the game, there were three primary ways characters obtained skills:

Thump.

By acquiring skill-infused items.

Thump.

By hunting and gaining them as rare drops.

And lastly—

Thump!

By receiving them as rewards for repetitive actions!

Crack!

Unable to withstand the force, my knuckles split open, blood oozing out.

It burned.

My trembling hand barely held its shape, the clenched fist holding the fractured bones in place. I was afraid to punch again.

But I did.

Bang!

This time, my fist shattered completely. A sharp pain surged, and a scream threatened to escape my throat. Grinding my teeth, I poured a potion from Nohr into my mangled hand.

Drop by drop, careful not to waste it.

Ssssss.

Steam rose as my hand slowly healed. Watching it recover, I smiled.

Tonight—

‘I’ll create a skill.’