Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

Lance looked at the dense data on the panel, and his heart trembled violently.

So this was the secret of professionals.

For a normal healthy adult, all base attributes were 5 points, yet Strength alone required double that.

This series of harsh numerical requirements was enough to make ordinary people shrink back in fear.

He calmly reassessed the youth before him.

Though the boy looked young, with just those two high-level sword techniques alone—if they truly fought—

Lance, a halfway-trained outsider relying on a system advantage, might not necessarily be able to defeat him.

He could only exploit the boy’s limited stamina; if it came down to explosive power, this kid was definitely formidable.

A genius.

Lance gave his evaluation inwardly.But soon.

The longer he stared at that face, the stronger that sense of familiarity became.

Golden hair…

It was like that young man Kael who once carried a greatsword—he had the same golden hair.

Lance lowered his voice, deliberately making it sound deep and hoarse.

“Why did you come back from White River City?”

He stared into the boy’s eyes and asked slowly.

“I remember that place is the commercial center of the province, far more prosperous than Graystone Town.”

“With your talent, wouldn’t it be better to stay there and develop?”

Hearing this—

Damian, who had just been full of excitement and shining with hope, froze instantly.

His hand unconsciously tightened around the hilt of the sword at his waist—it was a gift from his brother.

Faced with Lance’s question, he fell silent.

After a while, the youth finally spoke.

“The tuition at White River City Swordsmanship Academy is five gold coins per semester.”

“If I could study for one more year, I might have had a chance to pass the assessment and advance to Swordsman. With the Excellent-level talent my mentor evaluated me with, I would definitely have been selected by the city’s defensive knight order.”

“That way, I’d have a stable salary, a big house, and I could bring my brother over to live a good life.”

As he said this, a glimmer of hope flickered in Damian’s eyes.

But that light lasted only for a moment before being extinguished like a flame doused with cold water.

But his brother was already gone.

The person he was striving for no longer existed.

“My brother… used to be an Adventurer here. His name was Kael.”

“He sent me letters and living expenses every month without fail. In every letter, he wrote about which monster tribe he had recently exterminated, how the guild had issued generous bounties, and how well he was living.”

“He told me not to save money, to buy whatever I wanted to eat. He said in his letters that he was a famous Adventurer in Graystone Town, that he had formed a strong team and was respected by others.”

The youth’s voice began to tremble slightly.

“Until a week ago… when I came back to collect his belongings.”

“What the guild staff handed me was just a shriveled, moldy coin pouch.”

“There were no gold coins inside—only a dozen or so heavily worn copper coins, and half a piece of black bread so hard it was like stone.”

Damian’s grip on his sword tightened.

“That was found later when other Adventurers wiped out the Goblin tribe that killed him, retrieved from the nest of those beasts.”

“There was also a letter he had written to me but never had the chance to send.”

“In that letter, he still told me to study well… said I was the pride of the family, that I would surely become a respected noble knight in the future.”

The youth’s eyes reddened as he looked up at Lance beneath the hood.

“How could I continue studying?!”

“He wasn’t some great Adventurer at all—he was just a liar who wouldn’t even buy the most basic protective potions because he was saving money for my tuition!”

“A single bottle of maintenance oil I casually use during training is worth half a month of his food expenses.”

“My abilities were built from him killing Goblins one by one, piling up bloodstained copper coins piece by piece.”

“Senior, you asked why I came back.”

The youth wiped his face fiercely with his sleeve, his swollen eyes burning with what seemed like flames.

“Because I don’t want to become some noble knight.”

“I just want to be his younger brother, to inherit his wish, and take his place as a true Adventurer.”

“I want to slaughter all the Goblins.”

“Senior, can you help me?”

Damian extended his hand toward Lance.

That hand, though young, was covered in calluses from sword training.

Lance looked at that hand.

He knew very well—if he took it, with this boy’s talent and his own system, perhaps a future Adventurer Party that would become famous across the world might truly begin here.

But…

Damian only saw the hooded man, whose face could not be seen, slowly shake his head indifferently.

The youth’s hand froze midair, and his eyes instantly filled with deep disappointment.

“Is it… because I’m not strong enough?”

Lance did not offer any cheap comfort because of Damian’s tragic experience.

Instead, there was even a trace of coldness in his tone.

“I think you’ve misunderstood one thing.”

Lance’s voice came from beneath the hood, heavy and stern.

“If I were you, I would immediately go to the counter and withdraw that foolish application to recruit a new team.”

“Stop thinking about forming your own party and becoming a leader.”

“Go find an experienced team that needs manpower—even if it means doing labor or carrying baggage.”

“Watch how veterans handle commissions. Learn properly how they sleep in the wild, how they identify water sources, and how they escape danger.”

“Use the swordsmanship you’re so proud of as bargaining chips, and exchange it for the survival experience in those old hands’ heads.”

Lance stepped forward, looking down at the youth from beneath his hood.

“A person who only knows how to fight cannot become an Adventurer—that’s just a brute.”

“Only by staying alive can you kill more Goblins and avenge your brother.”

After saying this, Lance gave Damian no chance to respond.

He tightened his hood and turned toward the guild’s entrance.

As he walked, he spoke a few final words without looking back.

“There are plenty of useless drifters in this guild, but there are also true experts.”

“If you don’t want to disappoint your brother’s expectations—”

“Then first learn how to survive like a cockroach.”

“Don’t let him die in vain.”

Lance waved his hand, pushed open the door, and quickly disappeared into the flow of people on the street.

Only Damian remained standing there.

He stared blankly in the direction where that figure had vanished, as if something in his previously chaotic mind had been struck hard.

Everything Lance had just said to the youth contained not a single false word.

“Stay alive”—those three words were not just advice, but the foremost principle carved into his bones since arriving in this world.

In this cruel world, only the living had the right to speak of ideals.

During these past months behind the guild counter, he had witnessed too many Adventurers’ stories.

Some were driven by dreams, some by greed, and others—like Kael—pressed forward under the burden of protecting loved ones.

But no matter how beautiful their original intentions were, most ultimately fell on this thorn-filled path, paying the painful price with their lives.