Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

Lance licked his somewhat cracked lips, his throat feeling unbearably dry.

“And extremely thirsty.”

Hearing this answer, Necros nodded, the shock in his eyes slightly subsiding as he regained some of the composure of an elder.

“This is a normal physiological reaction.”

The old man casually handed over the iced water on the table and began to explain.

“For those encountering the Breathing Technique for the first time, you still cannot precisely control the ignited Aether. The excess violent energy will largely convert into heat, which then rapidly evaporates the moisture within your body.”

“Once you become proficient in controlling the rhythm and learn to lock your pores, this situation will naturally disappear.”

Lance took the cup and drank it in one gulp. The icy liquid slid down his esophagus, slightly suppressing the dryness and heat within his body.

Necros kept his gaze fixed on Lance’s eyes, his expression turning somewhat serious, as if confirming something more important.

“Other than the physical heat, how is your mental state?”The old man carefully chose his words, asking in a grave tone.

“Do you feel a strong sense of discomfort? For example, extreme fatigue, or your brain resisting any movement you try to make?”

Necros patiently explained.

This was a chasm every melee class professional had to cross on their path of cultivation, known among scholars as the “Cognitive Inertia Shackles.”

The human brain was an extremely shrewd steward. It was accustomed to planning actions based on daily physical reserves.

But once the Breathing Technique was activated, the rate of stamina consumption would instantly soar to three times or even higher than normal.

This kind of deficit, where expenditure far exceeded intake, would trigger an intense sense of crisis in the brain.

To prevent the host from exhausting themselves to death, the brain would instinctively release various negative signals through the nervous system: fatigue, aversion, even bodily stiffness.

It would frantically flood you with commands to stop.

“This instinctive resistance places enormous pressure on the mind.”

Necros let out a sigh.

“So most melee professionals don’t dare to casually activate the Breathing Technique in their daily lives. Only on life-and-death battlefields, with the stimulation of combat, can they temporarily break through this limitation.”

“Only those with exceptionally strong willpower deliberately set aside time each day to train the Breathing Technique, expanding their Aether Energy Pool.”

“In contrast, those spellcasters are indeed naturally advantaged.”

“They don’t have to endure this dual tearing of body and mind, so in the early stages of their careers, their energy accumulation speed far surpasses ours.”

“Unless you can endure until advancing to the Extraordinary rank, only then will this gap slightly narrow.”

At this point, Necros looked at Lance, a trace of confusion in his eyes.

“This Breathing Technique consumes even more than ordinary techniques. Logically speaking, that kind of mental pressure should be enough to drive someone mad.”

After hearing this long explanation, Lance was momentarily stunned.

He subconsciously examined his own mental state.

Fatigue? Aversion?

None at all.

On the contrary, he felt incredibly energized. His mind was as clear as if he were counting money, and he even felt like going out for a five-kilometer run just for fun.

So that’s how it is.

Lance suddenly understood.

Among the effects of his red talent 【Hvergelmir’s Surge】, there was an inconspicuous line: “Greatly reduces sensitivity to abnormal states.”

He hadn’t expected that even this kind of “mental pressure” originating from the brain’s protective mechanism would be classified by the system as a negative abnormal state, directly exempting most of it—so much so that it didn’t even feel as bad as being hungry.

As expected of a cheat-like ability.

Lance raised his head, meeting Necros’ scrutinizing gaze, his tone firm.

“I think I can handle it completely.”

He spoke with full confidence.

Necros stared intently into Lance’s eyes, trying to find even a trace of reluctance.

But all he saw was calm assurance.

“Good… very good.”

A trace of undisguisable admiration flashed in the old man’s eyes.

To withstand such overwhelming mental pressure—enough to break an ordinary person—purely through willpower on the first activation of this Breathing Technique.

This kid’s willpower was like steel.

A natural-born warrior.

“Since you’re in good condition, don’t waste it.”

Necros stood up, rekindling the vigor he once had when teaching new recruits.

“Follow me to the training ground. Standing still is useless—you need to move under that violent Aether Resonance State and adapt to the sense of losing control after your power surges.”

He wanted to see just where this young man’s limits lay.

The two passed through the lounge and arrived at the fully enclosed private training hall behind it.

The surrounding walls were lined with thick soundproof felt, the ground was paved with hard obsidian slabs, and various weapon racks were stacked in the corners.

“What weapon are you used to?”

Necros asked as he walked to the weapon rack.

“Shortsword.”

Lance answered without hesitation.

“Catch.”

Necros casually pulled out an unsharpened steel training shortsword from the rack. With a flick of his wrist, the blade turned into a streak of silver light as it flew toward Lance.

Lance raised his hand and caught it steadily.

The moment the hilt touched his palm, that familiar sensation steadied his heart.

His left foot stepped forward, his center of gravity lowered, assuming the starting stance he had practiced thousands of times.

Castro Thrust.

“Hah!”

With a low shout, the shortsword in Lance’s hand shot forward.

This thrust was astonishingly fast, even producing a sharp sonic crack in the air.

At the very instant the strike was unleashed—

Lance clearly felt his stamina within his body pouring out like a flood released from a dam, surging wildly along with that attack.

The sudden sense of emptiness was somewhat unsettling.

But in just the blink of an eye—

With the next breath, his depleted stamina bar instantly refilled like a rising tide.

Lance thrust several more times in succession.

At the same time, a line of small text appeared on his retina.

【Castro Swordsmanship Proficiency +1】

Seeing this prompt, Lance’s eyes lit up sharply.

Normally, when he practiced this move, he needed to repeat it at least thirty times just to barely squeeze out a single point of proficiency.

But now, with just a few attempts, his proficiency had directly increased by one?

This meant that under the activation of the Breathing Technique, his training efficiency had increased tenfold?

What did that imply?

It meant that training here for just one hour would equal several days of hard practice in the past!

“Again!”

The ecstasy in Lance’s eyes was impossible to suppress.

How could he still care about any mental pressure? The shortsword in his hand transformed into a storm of silver, madly thrusting at the air in front of him.

Once, twice, three times…

Standing nearby, Necros’ expression gradually shifted from initial admiration to something rather strange.

As the holder of this Breathing Technique, no one understood better than him how terrifying its consumption was.

For beginners encountering it for the first time and unable to precisely control Aether, their stamina should be like a punctured water bag—draining completely within just a few seconds.