I turned to the quest board, running my fingers over the wooden surface.

  C-Rank quests, huh…

  Most of them were fairly standard—escort missions, monster hunting, a few odd collection requests.

  Then, my eyes landed on something interesting.

  High-Orc Subjugation.

  A slow grin crept onto my face.

  This would be perfect.

  Garrus said I needed to learn faster. That I relied too much on just adapting instead of actually building my own strength. High-Orcs were physically monstrous, far stronger than normal orcs. Taking hits from them would be like getting smashed by a moving boulder.

  If I wanted to train my endurance, reaction speed, and actual combat ability, this was the way to do it.

  Getting swung at with full strength by a High-Orc… yeah. That’ll do.

  I grabbed the request and marched straight back to Yuna.

  She took one look at the paper and raised an eyebrow.

  “…You just ranked up to C-Rank, and you're already taking on High-Orcs?”

  I grinned. “What, worried about me?”

  She sighed. “Not really. Just wondering if I should already prepare your funeral.”

  I smirked. “Wow, such confidence in me.”

  Yuna just shook her head, stamping the quest form. "Look, I don’t care what you do, but don’t come back in pieces, alright? High-Orcs aren’t like goblins. They think, they strategize, and they hit like a runaway carriage.”

  "Good," I said, slipping the quest paper into my pocket. "That’s exactly what I need."

  She sighed again. “Yep. Definitely preparing your funeral.”

  Ignoring her lack of faith in my survival, I turned to leave.

  "Before you go," Yuna called out. I glanced back, and she tossed something at me—a small glass vial filled with red liquid.

  I caught it. "A healing potion?"

  "Yeah. Free of charge. Consider it a don’t-die-too-quickly gift."

  I chuckled. "Appreciate it."

  With that, I left the guild, heading straight for my next challenge.

  Time to see if getting hit by a High-Orc was as painful as it sounded.

  As I stepped out of the guild, the cool night air greeted me. The streets of Aurewyn were still alive—merchants packing up their stalls, adventurers drinking and laughing outside taverns, and city guards making their usual rounds.

  I tightened my grip on Nyxrend and glanced at the quest paper again.

  High-Orc Subjugation

  Location: Blackwood Forest

  Estimated Targets: 3-5

  Not bad. It wasn’t a full-blown warband, just a few stragglers. But even a single High-Orc was dangerous—stronger, tougher, and smarter than regular orcs.

  And I was planning to let them hit me on purpose.

  Yeah. This is either a genius training method or a fast-track to death.

  Still, if I wanted to grow stronger, I needed to push my limits. Skill Eater was powerful, but it was only as good as what I experienced firsthand. The more I fought, the more I’d learn.

  I made my way to the city gates, flashing my adventurer’s badge at the guards. One of them, an older man with a scar over his eye, gave me a once-over.

  "Heading out this late?" he asked.

  "Yeah. Got a quest to take care of."

  His gaze flicked to my sword, then back to me. "Be careful, kid. Lotta adventurers think they can handle High-Orcs and end up as meat paste."

  I grinned. "Good thing I learn fast, then."

  The guard just shook his head and waved me through.

  With that, I stepped beyond the city walls and into the wild.

  The forest was eerily quiet. No birds, no rustling leaves—just stillness. A bad sign.

  I crouched low, scanning the area. According to the request, the High-Orcs had been spotted near a ruined watchtower deep in the forest. I needed to track them down first.

  I moved carefully, stepping lightly to avoid making noise. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and old wood. Then—

  Snap.

  I froze. That wasn’t me.

  Slowly, I turned my head.

  A massive, hulking figure emerged from the darkness.

  Eight feet tall. Thick, scarred muscles. Pale green skin with war paint smeared across its chest. Two tusks jutted from its lower jaw, and its yellow eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

  A High-Orc.

  It carried a brutal-looking battle axe, resting it lazily on one shoulder.

  Its gaze locked onto me, and for a second, we just stared at each other.

  Then, it grunted.

  “…Small human. You lost?”

  It spoke. That alone was proof of how different they were from their lesser kin.

  I tightened my grip on Nyxrend and smirked. "Nah. I came here for you."

  The High-Orc blinked. Then it threw its head back and laughed. A deep, rumbling sound that shook its whole body.

  "Brave. Or stupid." It rolled its shoulders, shifting into a stance. "Either way… you will break."

  Good.

  That’s exactly what I was here for.

  I lowered my stance, exhaling.

  "Then try not to kill me too fast."

  The High-Orc wasted no time.

  With a roar, it lunged, raising its massive battle axe and swinging it down like a guillotine.

  Fast.

  I barely had time to move. My body reacted on instinct—I dove to the side, the axe cleaving into the ground where I had just stood. The impact sent a shockwave through the dirt, cracking the earth beneath it.

  Holy shit.

  If I had taken that hit, I wouldn’t just be injured—I’d be dead.

  But that was exactly why I was here.

  I steadied my breath, gripping Nyxrend tighter. I need to get hit. Not enough to die, but enough for Skill Eater to analyze the force behind it. If I could learn how to handle its attacks, I could counter them.

  The High-Orc wrenched its axe free and turned to me with a toothy grin. "Fast. But not enough."

  It moved again, this time swinging from the side.

  I didn’t dodge.

  Instead, I braced myself and raised Nyxrend horizontally, attempting to block—

  CRASH!

  The sheer force launched me off my feet. My arms screamed in pain as I was sent flying, crashing through a tree before hitting the ground hard.

  Everything ached. My vision blurred. My sword was still in my hands, but my entire body was trembling from the impact.

  So this is what a full-strength High-Orc hit feels like…

  I groaned, pushing myself up. The High-Orc tilted its head, watching me curiously. "Still alive? Impressive."

  I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders. The pain was still there, but something was different.

  Skill Eater was kicking in.

  My body was adjusting. I could feel it—the way my stance naturally shifted to absorb the force better, the way my grip on Nyxrend tightened in anticipation.

  "Not bad," I muttered, stretching my arms. "But I can take more."

  The High-Orc’s grin widened. "Good."

  It charged again.

  This time, I wasn’t just blocking—I was learning.

  ...

  Crash!

  The High-Orc collapsed onto its knees, its massive body trembling.

  "Please… just leave me alone!" it roared, exhaustion clear in its voice.

  You may be wondering—why is a massive, battle-hardened High-Orc begging for mercy?

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Simple.

  I had spent the entire night doing nothing but blocking its attacks.

  Not dodging. Not counterattacking. Just standing my ground and taking every single hit.

  At first, each strike sent me flying. My arms ached, my bones rattled, and my vision blurred from the sheer force of its attacks. But Skill Eater worked fast. Every time I blocked, I learned. Every impact made me sturdier, more stable. My stance adapted. My grip tightened. My footing adjusted.

  Until eventually—

  The High-Orc’s attacks stopped moving me.

  And the realization must have hit it like a brick, because now, after hours of swinging that massive axe at me—

  It was tired.

  It sagged forward, panting. "What… are you…?"

  I stretched my sore shoulders, cracking my neck. "Huh. That was actually useful."

  The High-Orc flinched, its eyes filled with something I never thought I'd see from one of these monsters.

  Fear.

  It let out a weak, shaky breath. "Monster…"

  I smirked. That's my line.

  I swung Nyxrend straight at the High-Orc’s throat—only for my blade to stop against its thick, reinforced skin.

  I blinked. Oh, come on.

  The High-Orc shuddered, still too exhausted to move. It weakly glanced down at the blade pressing against its neck, then back up at me, as if insulted that I couldn't even finish the job properly.

  I sighed. Alright, new training idea.

  If blocking trained my endurance, then this would train my swing strength.

  I adjusted my stance and swung again.

  THUNK!

  Nothing. The High-Orc winced but didn’t fall.

  I gritted my teeth. "Alright, once more—"

  THUNK!

  Still nothing.

  "Seriously?"

  The High-Orc groaned. "P-please…"

  "Shhh, this is training," I muttered, raising my sword again.

  And so, for the next hour, I practiced my swing strength—using the poor High-Orc’s body as my personal training dummy.

  After what felt like my hundredth swing, I finally sliced through, decapitating the orc in a clean strike.

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. "Whew. That took forever."

  Then I cracked my knuckles and grinned. "Alright. Time to fight two of them at once. Where are you!!"

  My voice echoed through the mountain.

  Somewhere in the distance, two very unfortunate High-Orcs probably felt a deep sense of regret.

  ...

  "Found you!"

  Both High-Orcs, casually sitting on the ground, turned their heads toward me in unison.

  "Human!" they bellowed at the same time.

  Then, without hesitation, they shot up and immediately started swinging their weapons at me.

  Perfect.

  I weaved between their strikes, grinning. "Great! Now I can practice my reflexes, dodging, and decision-making while also training my strength and endurance!"

  One of them roared and brought down a massive club. I sidestepped at the last second, feeling the wind pressure as it smashed into the ground, sending debris flying. The other swung a greatsword horizontally—I barely ducked under it, my hair rustling from how close it was.

  I laughed. "Now hopefully you guys can last as long as High-Orc #1!"

  The orcs froze for a second, exchanging a glance.

  Then—

  "What happened to him?" one of them grunted.

  I cracked my knuckles and rolled my shoulders. "Oh, he lasted a whole night. Then I used him as training for my sword swings. Didn’t make it after that."

  Silence.

  Then, both High-Orcs took a step back.

  I smirked. "Oh no, don't run. You guys are perfect training dummies."

  And just like that, the real fight began.

  ...

  "Please… just let us go!" High-Orc #2 wailed, swinging his massive club in sheer desperation.

  It was so weak that I didn’t even have to dodge or block. The club sluggishly passed by me, missing by a mile, before the orc stumbled forward, panting.

  I tilted my head. Was that really supposed to be an attack?

  As for High-Orc #3?

  Yeah, he was already unconscious on the ground.

  He lasted a while, but after a few hours of me dodging, countering, and using him as an endurance training dummy, he just… collapsed.

  I sighed, cracking my neck. "Come on, man. At least try to give me a workout here."

  High-Orc #2 whimpered. "What are you?!"

  I grinned, raising Nyxrend for another round.

  "Your personal training equipment."

  I grinned, tightening my grip on Nyxrend.

  "Alright! Time for swinging strength training!!!"

  High-Orc #2's eyes widened in pure horror. "N-no! Please—"

  THUNK!

  I swung. The impact sent him staggering, but his thick hide still refused to give in completely.

  Good. That meant I could keep going.

  THUNK! THUNK!

  Each strike was smoother, faster, and stronger than the last. My muscles burned, but I could feel the improvement with every swing. The resistance of his tough skin forced me to adjust my technique, maximizing my power while keeping my movements efficient.

  The High-Orc whimpered. "G-gods, just kill me already…"

  I ignored him and kept swinging.

  This was too good of a training opportunity to waste.

  THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

  Each strike echoed through the forest, the force of my swings making the ground tremble.

  High-Orc #2 barely stood anymore, his knees shaking, his body covered in bruises from my relentless sword-strength training.

  His eyes were glassy—completely dead inside.

  "P…please…" he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "J-just… end it…"

  I ignored him and adjusted my grip. "Nope! Not yet! I think I can still improve my swing!"

  His lip quivered. "Why… is this happening…"

  THUNK!

  I felt it. That last swing was way cleaner. More efficient. I was finally getting it down.

  I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Nyxrend settle perfectly in my hands.

  "Alright," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. "One last test."

  The High-Orc barely reacted as I raised my sword for the final strike.

  SHING!

  A clean, perfect decapitation.

  His body slumped to the ground. Silent.

  I exhaled, shaking out my arms. Whew. That was a good workout.

  I turned to High-Orc #3, who was still unconscious on the ground.

  I nodded to myself. "Alright. Time for durability training."

  I grabbed a stick and started poking him awake.

  Well… he was dead.

  From what, you ask?

  Exhaustion.

  Yep. High-Orc #3 literally died from being too tired before I could even finish my training with him.

  I sighed, shaking my head. "Man, you guys need better stamina."

  With that, I decapitated him with a clean slice, tossing his head onto the growing collection. Now with three High-Orc heads in my possession, I tied them together with some rope and slung them over my shoulder like a grotesque sack of potatoes.

  As I started making my way back to the Adventurer’s Guild, I smirked to myself.

  I wonder how many eyes will be on me today.

  As I marched through the city gates, three severed High-Orc heads dangling over my shoulder, the reaction was immediate.

  The streets went silent.

  Merchants paused mid-sale. A mother yanked her child behind her. A guard actually choked on his drink.

  People started whispering.

  "What the hell…?"

  "Is that… is that what I think it is?"

  "Who even brings High-Orc heads like that?!"

  I ignored them, casually adjusting the weight of the heads. Man, these guys were heavy.

  Finally, I reached the Adventurer’s Guild.

  Like before, the moment I stepped in—silence. Conversations died, drinks were set down, and every adventurer turned to stare at me.

  I made my way to Yuna’s desk, dragging the High-Orc heads behind me.

  THUD. I dropped them in front of her.

  She looked down at them. Looked back up at me. Then sighed.

  "…You really don’t do things normally, huh?"

  I grinned. "Well, I did say I needed training."

  She massaged her temples. "Alright, let’s see… Three High-Orcs down. That’ll be forty-five gold—and, oh look," she grabbed a B-Rank badge from behind the counter and placed it in front of me, "Congratulations. You’re officially B-Rank."

  The entire guild exploded.

  "WHAT?!"

  "He ranked up that fast?!"

  "Wasn’t he a newbie just yesterday?!"

  I smirked, picking up my new badge.

  Well… that was easy.

  ...

  With my B-Rank badge secured and my gold pouch heavier than ever, I made my way to the Merchant Square.

  Or should I say… The Scamming Center.

  Because, seriously—every time I walked past a merchant, I somehow ended up buying something.

  How? I don’t fucking know.

  It had to be some kind of brainwashing magic. Or maybe they were just too good at pulling people in.

  "Sir, you look like you need a new cloak!" Bought it.

  "This elixir will boost your stamina!" Bought it.

  "A fine warrior like you deserves the finest jerky!" …Okay, that one was fair.

  By the time I broke free from the merchants’ clutches, my gold had taken a serious hit.

  But I finally made it to where I actually wanted to go—

  A blacksmith.

  You may ask, Why?

  Simple.

  Nyxrend is a cursed weapon.

  Meaning it reeks of curse energy. And while I love my sword, I don’t want to be immediately identified as someone carrying an ominous, soul-eating blade every time I walk into a civilized place.

  So, I did the most logical thing.

  I bought another sword.

  Yes. Another one.

  A normal, non-cursed, average-looking longsword. Just something to not scream "mysterious possibly evil swordsman" everywhere I went.

  Nyxrend hummed slightly in my mind, almost like it was offended.

  I patted the hilt reassuringly. "Relax, buddy. You’re still my main weapon. This is just… a disguise."

  The blacksmith raised an eyebrow at me, probably wondering why I was talking to a sword.

  I ignored him.

  With my new normal sword strapped to my side, I left the blacksmith, ready for whatever came next.

  ...

  I stopped in the middle of the street, staring at my overflowing bag of random crap.

  "What the fuck… How did I end up buying a cloak, three healing potions, three explosives, and five energy potions… when I was just supposed to buy a sword?"

  I looked at my new normal sword. Then at the mountain of unnecessary items weighing me down.

  The merchant bastards got me again.

  Before I could process my financial ruin—

  GROWL.

  I froze.

  That… was my stomach.

  A realization hit me.

  In the three days I had been in Aurewyn, I hadn't eaten once. Probably because I was too busy fighting for my life and using orcs as personal punching bags.

  I hurriedly checked my pouch, counting the remaining gold.

  …Four.

  FOUR.

  I started sweating.

  "Great. Four gold coins."

  Just enough to eat like a king for a day… or survive for the next week.

  I stared at the bag of potions and explosives.

  I stared at my grumbling stomach.

  …

  I had fucked up.

  With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself to the nearest restaurant—or, well, I guess it’s called a tavern in this world.

  The sign above the door read "The Rusty Tankard." Not exactly inspiring confidence, but at this point, I didn’t care. My stomach was demanding tribute.

  I pushed open the doors, stepping inside.

  The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, ale, and whatever mysterious stew was brewing in the back. The place was lively—adventurers laughing, drinking, and slamming mugs together, while barmaids weaved between tables, carrying plates of food that made my stomach growl even louder.

  I made my way to an empty seat at the counter, slumping onto it dramatically.

  The bartender, a burly man with a scar over his nose, gave me a once-over. "You look half-dead."

  "Feels like it," I admitted. "Give me whatever four gold can buy."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Four gold? Kid, that’s a full feast."

  I blinked. "Wait, really?"

  He nodded. "You could eat enough to pass out."

  I nearly teared up. Finally, something in this world wasn’t scamming me.

  "Then load me up," I said, slamming the coins on the counter. "I'm eating until I can't move."

  The bartender chuckled, scooping up my gold. "Alright, kid. You asked for it."

  He turned to the kitchen, barking orders. Within minutes, the counter in front of me was covered in food—thick slabs of roasted meat, buttered bread, steaming stew, grilled fish, mashed potatoes, and even a mug of something cold and sweet.

  I stared at the feast, my stomach practically screaming in joy.

  Three days. Three whole days of training, fighting, and getting scammed… but now?

  I grabbed a chunk of roasted meat and devoured it.

  The moment it hit my tongue, I almost cried.

  This was it. This was heaven.

  I tore through the food, eating like a starved beast. The tavern around me blurred—nothing else mattered. Not the noisy adventurers, not the curious glances from nearby tables.

  Just me, my food, and my revenge against hunger.

  At some point, I realized the bartender was watching with mild concern.

  "...Kid," he said slowly, "you sure you ain't part ogre or somethin’?"

  I paused mid-bite, mouth full. "Mmfh?"

  "You’re eating like you just crawled out of a warzone."

  I swallowed and wiped my mouth. "Close enough."

  He shook his head, muttering, "Damn adventurers." But he didn’t stop me.

  I grinned and kept eating.

  Tonight, I feasted.

  ...

  "Ahh, fuck… I'm full."

  I leaned back in my seat, groaning as my stomach—now almost a full arc—bounced slightly whenever I moved.

  I felt heavy. Not just tired-heavy, but "I might need someone to roll me out of here" heavy.

  The bartender smirked. "Told you it was a lot of food."

  I lazily glanced at my coin pouch, blinking in surprise.

  The whole meal only cost two gold.

  "Wait… so I still have money?!"

  For the first time since arriving in Aurewyn, I felt like I actually won something.

  I sat there, patting my glorious food baby, basking in the rare feeling of not being scammed.

  Life was good.

  With that I paid and left..

  "Next an Inn"

  ...

  I wandered through the dimly lit streets of Aurewyn, my stomach weighing me down like a full set of armor.

  Damn, I really overdid it.

  The city was quieter now, most of the shops closing, and only a few taverns and inns still bustling with activity. I kept moving, scanning the signs until I finally spotted one that seemed decent.

  "The Silver Hearth Inn."

  Looked cozy enough. More importantly, it wasn’t in some shady back alley where I'd wake up missing a kidney.

  I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The warm glow of lanterns filled the space. A few travelers sat at round tables, chatting softly over drinks. The woman at the front desk—a middle-aged lady with graying hair—looked up and smiled.

  "Welcome to The Silver Hearth. Looking for a room?"

  I nodded, fishing out my remaining two gold coins. "Yeah. What’s the rate?"

  "One gold per night, breakfast included."

  I sighed in relief. Perfect.

  "Then I’ll take a room," I said, sliding over one coin.

  She took it and handed me a simple iron key. "Room’s upstairs, third door on the right."

  I thanked her and dragged myself up the steps. Each step felt heavier, my full stomach reminding me of my earlier poor life choices.

  Finally, I reached my room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

  It was small, but clean—a bed, a wooden table, a wash basin, and a single window overlooking the city.

  I barely made it to the bed before collapsing face-first into it.

  Soft. Warm. Not the ground.

  I let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

  For the first time in days, I could finally—

  …

  Zzz.

  Yeah, I was out cold.