CHAPTER 168: TEACHING TIME [6]

Doran finally looked at me, eyes glinting with something sharp but strangely warm.

"That depends." He leaned back, arms folding across his chest. "If you keep grinning like an idiot every time you scrape progress, you’ll be a corpse before winter ends. But..." His mouth curved upward again. "If you learn when to shut up and when to strike, you’ll leave a name that’ll make even the Guild grind their teeth."

I chuckled. "High praise, coming from you."

"Don’t get used to it." He closed his eyes, settling deeper into his cloak. "Tomorrow, I’m going to break that ego of yours all over again."

"Looking forward to it."

He didn’t reply this time. The only sound was his steady breathing as he drifted toward sleep, and the low hiss of the fire.

But even in that quiet, my chest burned—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of his words.

A legend, huh?

Maybe I’d carve out more than just a rumor after all.

While becoming a legend is good and all of that.

There is still one question linger in my head.

"Can I really counterattack just by evading later on?"

"If you use the terrain to your advantage, there’s no reason why you can’t."

According to Doran, in rough terrains like muddy or rocky areas, it’s more advantageous to focus on evasion rather than clashing weapons for a counterattack. It seems that this approach consumes less stamina.

"You’re just barely stepping into the basics and already aiming for advanced techniques, huh?"

I felt a light pressure on my shoulder.

Doran was patting it.

"Don’t stress too much. I guarantee you, including myself, none have grown as fast as you."

"...Really?"

Although it was a clumsy consolation, it did lift my spirits. It meant that my efforts weren’t in vain.

"Alright, let’s put off tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow and have a drink now."

"We have training tomorrow, why would we drink? And I’m not even of legal drinking age."

"Ah, nonsense! Rest is essential for efficient training. You come and enjoy some juice, at least set the mood!"

A sigh escaped me, but what could I do?

Despite his ways, he was the master who had been diligently transferring his secret techniques until just now. If he got drunk and collapsed in the pub, that would be a real headache.

"After being chased, it’s really been a while since I could relax and enjoy a drink. Exciting, isn’t it?"

"Drink moderately, please. For tomorrow’s sake."

I followed behind him, who was already leading with a cheerful stride.

"Master."

"Hm?"

"Hand over my purse, please."

"...Ah, this is why quick-witted kids are a pain..."

While becoming a legend sounded nice and all, one question kept nagging at me.

"Can I really counterattack just by dodging later on?"

"If you use the terrain to your advantage, there’s no reason you can’t," Doran replied without hesitation.

He went on to explain that in rough terrain—muddy, rocky, or unstable—it was smarter to focus on evasion rather than clashing weapons. It saved stamina and gave better openings for a counter.

"You’re barely grasping the basics, and already you’re eyeing advanced techniques, huh?"

I felt a firm weight on my shoulder. Doran’s hand.

"Don’t get so wound up. I guarantee you, even including myself, no one has grown as fast as you."

"...Really?"

It was clumsy reassurance, but it warmed me all the same. At least it meant my efforts weren’t wasted.

"Alright," Doran said, his tone suddenly lighter. "Tomorrow’s worries can wait for tomorrow. For now, let’s have a drink."

I frowned. "We’re training tomorrow. Why would we drink? And I’m not even of legal drinking age."

"Bah, legal age, shm-legal age! Rest is part of training too, kid. If nothing else, have some juice. Set the mood!"

A sigh slipped out of me. What choice did I have? He was still the master who’d spent the entire day hammering his secret techniques into me. If he got drunk and passed out in some tavern, that would be my headache to deal with.

"After being hunted like a dog, it’s been ages since I could actually relax with a drink," he said, already striding ahead with a spring in his step. "Exciting, isn’t it?"

"Just don’t overdo it. Tomorrow’s going to be rough enough as it is."

I trailed after him, watching his cheerful gait. Then I remembered something important.

"Master."

"Hm?"

"Hand over my purse, please."

He froze mid-step.

"...Ah, this is why quick-witted brats are such a pain..."

The tavern we ducked into was warm and noisy, filled with laughter, clinking mugs, and the smell of roasted meat. Compared to the biting cold outside, it felt like stepping into another world.

Doran immediately waved the barmaid over. "Two mugs! One with something that kicks like a mule, the other with something sweet enough for a child!"

I shot him a glare. "I told you, juice is fine."

"Yes, yes. Juice. Exactly what I ordered," he said with a grin that made it clear he hadn’t.

The drinks arrived quickly—his a frothing, dark ale, mine a suspiciously pink liquid that smelled faintly of berries but also... something sharper.

"...This isn’t juice."

"Course it is! Strawberry... eh, something." He took a hearty swig of his own mug and slammed it down. "You won’t get drunk off a sip or two. Builds character!"

I eyed the drink. "You mean it builds your amusement."

"Same thing." He leaned back, scarred eyelids twitching with amusement. "Besides, life’s not all swinging swords and dodging smoke bombs. Sometimes you have to test your mettle in a crowded tavern, too."

"What, by not throwing up?"

"By keeping your head clear no matter what’s in your cup. A warrior who can’t handle a little haze won’t last when the real pressure comes."

I narrowed my eyes. "This is another lesson, isn’t it?"

"Every moment is a lesson, apprentice," he said smugly, raising his mug for another gulp. "The trick is spotting which ones matter."

I hesitated, then took a careful sip of the so-called "juice." The sweetness was there, but underneath it burned faintly, warming my chest. My face must have betrayed me, because Doran let out a booming laugh that turned a few heads in the tavern.

"See? Not so bad! Who knows, maybe you’ll even thank me for this one day."

"...If I survive tomorrow’s training."

"Oh, don’t worry," he said with a sly grin. "If you survive me, tomorrow will feel like a vacation."

...And for record I did survive it.