Starting with the goblin extermination

My father once said that to become a respected professional, one must learn at least three combat skills and become proficient in one of them.

But that's all Logan knew about professionals.

Fortunately, Thorin on the other side was a warm-hearted dwarf.

After a few drinks, the conversation naturally turned to the word "professional".

"So, Barron, you're still learning your first combat skill?" Logan asked, taking a bite of his roast meat.

"Um..." Baron buried his face in his wine glass a little embarrassedly, "I still have a long way to go."

"Papa has already learned how to fire in rapid succession!"

Papa proudly puffed out her chest, her clothes creating an eye-catching curve, but then her little face fell.

"But it cost my dad a lot of money, and he almost got his legs broken."

"Whose fault is it?" Thorin rolled his eyes and revealed the two newcomers' past to Logan.

"Those two brats' parents both run legitimate businesses in Riverwood. If it weren't for their family's wealth, how could they possibly afford the tuition for combat training?"

"How much does it cost to learn a combat skill?" Logan asked curiously.

"At least 100 gold coins!"

Thorin slammed his hand on the table. "This is just the guild's base price! Guaranteed instruction, not guild membership. If you want to hire top-tier professionals for one-on-one tutoring, the price will go up."

Five gold coins?!

Logan remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he was pounding with anxiety.

He thought earning 3 gold coins today was already pretty good, but he didn't expect that he was still far from getting the new combat skill.

For an ordinary person, it would take several years to save up 100 gold coins, even without eating or drinking.

"Of course, there are ways to live even without money," Thorin explained. "For example, you can sell yourself into servitude and join a powerful force, like the Holy Knights of the Soma Temple, or simply serve in the kingdom's regular army."

"If you persevere for a few years, you'll eventually learn some combat skills."

"Anything else?" Baron interjected.

"And then there's the matter of figuring it out on your own in the heat of battle," Thorin sneered. "But those kinds of geniuses mostly exist in the bullshit tales of bards; don't believe them, kid!"

"If you really did that, the grass on your grave would be two meters tall!"

Baron nodded silently, dodging Papa's elbow strike.

"Besides, what good is learning combat skills? If you don't master one, you'll never be a professional until you die."

Thorin took another swig of wine, feeling dejected.

"Asking others for advice costs money; it's a bottomless pit."

Logan nodded in agreement and clinked glasses with Thorin.

This wasn't a problem for Logan; a few more lines of text appeared in his eyes.

......

Name: Logan

【property】:

Strength: 5 (Muscle strength and physical strength)

Agility: 5 (Reaction time and physical dexterity)

Constitution: 5 (Endurance, Vitality and Resistance)

Intelligence: 6 (Memory and thinking abilities)

Perception: 5 (Intuition and Sensation)

Charisma: 6 (Charisma and Influence)

【Skill】

Thrust LV2 (10/100)

Specialty

Wind-piercing hand

......

There are no bottlenecks, and there's no need to spend money to learn from others. As long as you put in the effort and hard work, your combat skills will continuously improve.

For Logan, mastering the [Thrust] move is only a matter of time.

According to Thorin, combat skills, like job levels, have a clear and defined upgrade system.

It is divided into four stages: beginner, proficient, intermediate, and master.

Each upgrade brings noticeable changes to the user of the combat skill. Some experience improved physical abilities, while others gain new insights into the skill.

Logan recalled the situation when [Thrust] was upgraded the day before yesterday. It seems that LV2 on the panel corresponds to the so-called proficiency stage in reality.

So LV4 is what is called mastery?

"It's tough..." Thorin smacked his lips and complained, while Baron and Papa listened with great interest.

So now it seems that making money, learning new combat skills, and becoming a professional are Logan's current goals.

He continued eating the grilled meat on his plate, his eyes glancing at a table in the corner.

It's that same old drunkard from the sewers again.

He remained slumped over the table, surrounded by empty bottles, snoring loudly, oblivious to the noise around him.

"That old man..." Logan pointed with his chin.

Thorin followed Logan's gaze.

"Him?" Thorin pursed his lips.

"Koska. This old geezer is a regular here. I came back to Riverwood five years ago and he was already lying here. Nobody knows exactly how much he's drunk, but that bastard always has an endless amount of money for alcohol in his pocket."

Koska. Logan nodded thoughtfully. Although he hadn't found any money in his pocket, at least he finally knew his name.

"Let's not talk about him anymore!" Thorin raised his glass and patted Logan on the shoulder forcefully. "Logan, you did a great job on this mission. You're strong enough, have a good mentality, and are mentally sound."

The old dwarf let out a burp and looked intently at Logan.

"I expect to take on a few decent raiding missions during this period, and mentor these two newbies. If you still haven't found a regular team, I'll call you again next time there's work."

Logan smiled slightly, raised his glass and clinked it heavily against Thorin's, with Baron and Papa joining in.

A reliable team leader, kind teammates, and generous compensation—just what Logan wanted.

"I couldn't have gotten it."

The four of them sat around a wooden table sharing grilled meat and drinking until late at night.

......

The next morning, Logan woke up in agony.

The headache after a hangover feels like a saw is tearing inside my head.

Damn it, I shouldn't have drunk with the dwarf.

He reached into his pocket for the heavy money pouch and got out of bed.

After breakfast, Logan followed Thorin's recommendation from the previous night, walked through several muddy alleys filled with horse manure, and arrived at a blacksmith shop in the East End.

Black smoke billowed from the towering chimney, and a huge iron hammer was depicted on the sign.

Giant Hammer Blacksmith Shop

According to Thorin, the craftsmanship here is among the best in the entire White Wave Province.

As soon as I stepped across the threshold, a wave of heat and the clanging of blacksmiths hit me.

"Welcome, Brother Logan?!"

A dwarf wearing a coarse apron, carrying a basket of coke, looked up and exclaimed in surprise.

Logan paused for a moment.

That face covered in coal dust belonged to Baron, who had passed out drunk under the table during the latter half of last night's game.

So this is what Thorin meant when he said last night that "the family runs a legitimate business." Thorin definitely deliberately didn't mention Baron's relationship with the blacksmith's shop.

"What are you doing here?" Logan looked at the adventurer, who had been fighting goblins not long ago, with amusement.

"Do odd jobs..." Baron put down the coke with a bitter face. "My uncle carried me back last night. My dad said that if I want to be a shield bearer, I have to know how a shield is made. He made me swing a hammer a thousand times today."

Barron was about to show Logan around the shop when a roar came from the fireplace deep inside.

"Stop dawdling! Why isn't the coal coming?! Do you want my stove to go out?!"

A dwarf with a thick beard, even more robust than Thorin, lifted the curtain and came out.

His bulging muscles were glowing red from the fire, and he was holding a huge pair of iron tongs in his hand.

This is the blacksmith shop owner, Baron's father, Darlack.

"Father, this is Logan, my comrade-in-arms!" Barron quickly introduced.

Dallak's gaze shifted to Logan.

"That bastard Thorin mentioned you. Since you're a comrade of Baron's, I can give you a discount. So, kid from the North, what do you want?"

Logan didn't waste any words. He took off his leather armor, which was full of tears, and then took the longsword from his waist and placed it on the counter.

"I want to repair my leather armor and maintain my longsword. I also want to buy a decent dagger." Logan paused, "The kind that can be used for killing and boning."

Dalark pinched the leather armor with his thick fingers, tugged at it, and shook his head.

"This piece of junk is so rough it'd be too rough even to wipe a goblin's butt. If it were anyone else, I'd definitely advise them to buy a new one. But since you asked, it can be repaired, but it'll take a lot of work. Fixed price: 1.5 gold coins."

Logan felt his heart was bleeding. 1.5 gold coins, almost the same as the bounty for defeating a goblin.

However, he glanced at the price tag of the brand-new leather armor next to him: 5 gold coins.

Oh well, patching and mending will last another three years, it's still cheaper than buying new ones.

"The dagger is a friend's price, 5 silver coins. And the maintenance for this sword is a bonus."

Dadlach certainly knows how to do business.

"make a deal."

Logan nodded, his hand stroking the brand-new leather armor beside him.

Dalark casually tossed the leather armor to Baron behind him, then grabbed the longsword Logan had placed on the counter.

Swah——

The longsword was drawn.

The previously nonchalant Dalark stopped abruptly the moment he saw the blade.

He frowned and held the longsword up to the light.

Rough fingers slowly slid along the blood groove in the middle of the sword.

Finally, I stopped near the hilt of the sword and carefully examined the faint, almost imperceptible lines on it.

The shop quieted down, with only the crackling sound of the stove.

"Where did this sword come from?"

Dallak's voice was very low.

"It was left to me by my father," Logan said, looking at the longsword. "What? Is it valuable?"

Dallak did not answer immediately.

He glanced at Logan's pure blond hair, then looked down at the sword in his hand.

"Whether it's valuable or not is another matter. Kid, this isn't some piece of junk that just anyone can knock off."

"This is something from the Frostwolf Legion."

"what?"

"Look at the subtle patterns on the blade, and the meticulous weighting." Dalark flicked the blade with his fingernail, producing a clear, resonant sound. "This is the standard longsword of the Frostwolf Legion in the Kingdom of North Nordland. Although it's not a magical weapon, it's still a high-quality item that only officers are entitled to be issued."

Logan was stunned for a moment.

The Frostwolf Legion? An officer?

In his memory, that rugged, taciturn middle-aged man spent his entire life working as a blacksmith in that remote village in North Nordland.

He had always thought that his father was at most an ordinary low-level adventurer.

"Looks like your father's been keeping a lot from you, kid." Dalark slapped his longsword back into its sheath. "With this sword, your father's definitely a formidable figure with a nickname back in the north."

Logan couldn't understand it, since he knew nothing about it.

Why did my father live in anonymity in the countryside for sixteen years?

"2 gold coins".

Logan didn't respond; he simply counted out the gold coins and placed them on the counter.

He knew that he was not qualified to touch those secrets.

He picked up the sharp, blood-grooved dagger that Dalark handed him and slid it into the scabbard at his back.

"Remember to pick up the longsword and leather armor tomorrow."

Logan stepped out of the sweltering blacksmith shop. The air outside was exceptionally cool because of the recent rain, but his head was still burning.

It's really unpleasant to know nothing.