Who Says I'm Not a Proper Adventurer?
Chapter 21: 33 Points of Skill Level

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: 33 Points of Skill Level

"Also, the Guild President speculates that the forest environment has been deteriorating lately, and the root cause is some latent points of Magic Power radiation and turbulence."

"And to deal with those, we need Mages."

At this, Nia’s large eyes scanned the surroundings warily.

Confirming no one was nearby, she tiptoed closer, leaned into Lance’s ear, and whispered conspiratorially, her hand cupped over her mouth:

"We still have a few Mage Professionals in town, and they’re treated like precious treasures, but their fees are ridiculously high, and they don’t have unlimited energy."

"That’s why the Guild President decided to target the students."

The young woman’s warm breath tickled his ear.

’To put it bluntly, he thinks they’re too expensive, the Guild doesn’t want to be the sucker paying for it, and this cheap labor is just more convenient.’

Lance subtly shifted half a step away, rubbing his ear. He lowered his voice to match hers and asked:

"Did...your uncle, the vice-president, tell you all this?"

Nia’s uncle was the vice-president of the Adventurer’s Guild, a seasoned old timer who had diligently worked his administrative post for decades.

But the man found fault in everything Lance did.

Simply because he’d caught Lance and his precious niece hiding away and playing cards a few times, in his eyes, Lance was nothing but a scoundrel corrupting an innocent girl.

So, whenever Lance saw the man, he usually made sure to steer clear.

"That’s right."

Nia, not noticing Lance’s discomfort at all, nodded proudly.

"The Guild President has it all figured out."

"For this group of interns, the Guild only needs to pay a very low stipend, provide some basic food and lodging, and doesn’t even have to give a formal salary."

"Incredibly cost-effective."

"He also said that many of these students who can come here to intern have noble or wealthy merchant backgrounds, and they aren’t short on money."

"Not only does the Guild not have to pay them, but they’ll spend their own money all over town, trying to impress their crushes or mentors."

"So, in one fell swoop, they solve the forest’s Magic Power problem and boost Gray Rock Town’s economy. They can even use their partnership with Violet Academy to lure back the merchant caravans that were scared off."

After hearing all this, Lance couldn’t help but gasp.

’Unbelievable.’

’This is so crooked.’

’Isn’t this the exact same playbook big corporations used for interns in my previous life?’

’They’d use the excuse of "gaining experience" and "providing a certificate" to work college students like cheap, or even free, cattle.’

’Not only did they not have to pay them, but they also made the interns feel indebted to the company, thinking they’d actually learned something.’

’I can’t believe the ugly face of capitalism is exactly the same, even in this Otherworld.’

"So ruthless..."

Lance said with genuine feeling.

Nia nodded emphatically in agreement.

"You’re telling me. That old geezer is rotten to the core."

...

After a tedious day of transcription work, Lance returned to his quarters. He made a quick meal of a few pieces of hard, dry black bread washed down with cold water, then slipped into the Guild’s private training room under the cover of darkness.

The training room was brightly lit. On the wall hung several practice Short Bows for Guild use, and the quiver next to them was filled with white Feathered Arrows.

Lance took down a Short Bow and tested the string’s tension.

According to his current plan, he had to practice Archery for an hour every day, without fail, before dedicating all his remaining energy to Swordsmanship.

After all, his Swordsmanship was already at a critical point, ready to break through at any moment.

"HUUUH..."

Lance stood firm in the shooting position, took a deep breath, and his eyes instantly became sharp.

The straw target fifty meters away was just a blurry outline in the dim light.

But he didn’t hesitate in the slightest.

Nock, draw, aim, release.

"TWANG!"

The bowstring trembled.

The Feathered Arrow became a blur, striking the red section of the straw target with precision.

This was the standard of [Levin Archery] after reaching Level 2 (Proficient).

At this range, as long as there were no strong winds, his accuracy was already at an exceptionally high level.

He recalled that when he first started practicing, each shot took him eight to ten seconds just to adjust his posture. He would hesitate while aiming and frequently miss the target entirely.

But now.

Lance’s movements were fluid and natural, without a single wasted motion.

From nocking to releasing, the entire process was consistently compressed to between three and five seconds.

"TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!"

The monotonous and rhythmic sound of the bowstring echoed in the training room.

As time went on, the distant straw targets were soon bristling with arrows, looking like hedgehogs.

Lance had to stop, run over to pull out the arrows, and continue after clearing the targets.

If a knowledgeable Archer were to see this scene, their jaw would probably drop to the floor in shock.

Although this practice Short Bow was not a war bow, its draw weight was a full 40 pounds.

An Ordinary Adventurer, even a dedicated Archer, would find their arm muscles starting to tremble from lactic acid buildup after firing about forty consecutive arrows while maintaining a standard posture, causing their form to break and their accuracy to disappear.

But in this training room, a terrifying scene was unfolding.

Lance mechanically repeated the shooting motion while silently counting in his mind.

’486...’

’631...’

’814...’

’965...’

As the last arrow left his hand, another dull thud of a direct hit sounded.

Lance finally lowered his arms.

Sweat dripped from his chin onto the floor, forming a small puddle.

He hung the Short Bow back on the wall and reached out to feel the bowstring.

After such high-intensity, continuous use, the tough sinew string had noticeably loosened and become somewhat slack.

But the bow’s owner still seemed completely unaffected.

Aside from breaking a sweat, his breathing was still steady and strong, and the muscles in his arms showed no signs of trembling.

Lance picked up his water flask and took a few swigs, then casually summoned the system panel.

[Levin Archery Level 2 (75/240)]

Looking at the numbers, Lance calculated in his head.

An hour of extreme training had increased his Skill Level by about 33 points.

By his calculation, he had to fire about thirty arrows just to squeeze out a single point of Skill Level, like getting the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube.

"At this rate, in about five more days, my Archery should be able to break through to Level 3."

His gaze shifted down to the almost-full progress bar for Swordsmanship.

"If I’m lucky today, my Swordsmanship should be able to reach Level 4."

Lance wiped the sweat from his face and set a new plan for himself.

’After my Swordsmanship breaks through, I can adjust my time allocation for the next few days and spare another hour for Archery.’

’I’ll aim to get Archery to Level 3 within three days as well.’

Looking at the steadily increasing numbers, Lance frowned slightly.

’It’s still a bit slow.’

Good thing no one was around.

If any of the Adventurers outside had heard his thoughts, they’d probably be furious enough to want to beat him up.

Other people’s training progress was measured in years, but he was planning his by the day.

Yet this insatiable guy had the nerve to think it was slow.

They’d probably be unable to resist the urge to rush over and strangle him.