Ever since receiving her gift from Ogma, the God of Truth—the ability to peer into the pasts of others—it had been a long time since Teresa had felt confused.

But now, she found herself deeply bewildered.

If her previous inability to peer into Roland’s past could be attributed to coincidence or some unique quality of his, then this...

Teresa narrowed her eyes, her gaze shifting to the space behind Avril and Galvis.

Just like with Roland, that space was shrouded in a mist, and it held an indescribable power similar to the might of the Gods.

But unlike the dense fog surrounding Roland, the mist behind these two was slightly thinner, allowing her to catch a few fleeting fragments.

’Galvis Star, Half-Elf, student of Visna, has wandered the continent for many years... a Minstrel...’

As if sensing Teresa’s gaze, Galvis slowly raised his hand and gave a friendly wave.

Teresa gave a slight nod in return, then her gaze sharpened, focusing on the space behind Avril.

’Avril Morning Star, of noble blood from the Elf Race, a... Valkyrie of the Silver Moon Guard?’

Having caught that piece of information, Teresa turned to Roland in confusion.

If she hadn’t misheard him earlier, when Roland introduced this Elf Maiden, he had called her...

A prospective member... of the Shadow Veil Organization in the River Domain?

’This...’

A sense of absurdity welled up within Teresa.

Moreover...

The silver-haired woman’s brow furrowed even more tightly.

She pulled her focus back from Avril’s past and studied the Elf Maiden’s face once more.

The gentle, innocent, brightly smiling girl before her was impossible to reconcile with the cold, ruthless, silver-haired Elf Warrior she had just glimpsed.

"What’s wrong, Teresa?"

Roland noticed the silver-haired woman’s lapse in attention and asked.

But in the next moment, he understood what had happened. He leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Teresa, unless it’s absolutely necessary, it’s best not to use that ability of yours."

"After all, everyone needs a little privacy, don’t they?"

The warm breath on her ear made Teresa snap back to her senses. She nodded, flustered.

"You’re right, Mr. Roland."

"Roland!"

Avril’s voice rang out. Seeing the youth and the silver-haired woman’s somewhat intimate posture, a flicker of barely perceptible displeasure crossed her eyes.

She took a light step, cleverly inserting herself between the two. Looking up, she asked.

"Galvis told me you went to a banquet. Did you bring me back anything tasty?"

"No..."

Roland shook his head helplessly at the Elf Maiden’s forward enthusiasm.

"But I can cook for you now. Besides..."

He glanced at the silent Teresa and breathed a soft sigh of relief.

"Now that everyone’s here, it’s a good time to discuss our plan for dealing with the Demons."

"Yay!"

Avril cheered.

While signaling for Teresa to make herself comfortable, Roland swiftly grabbed the back of the Minstrel’s collar just as he was about to sneak away.

"Galvis, don’t even think about running off. You stay right here."

Ignoring the wry smile on the Minstrel’s face, Roland turned and headed into the kitchen.

Before long, the wooden table was laden with steaming, delicious dishes.

While not as lavish as the feast Trevor had prepared, the flavors were a cut above.

The four of them were all highly experienced, so they quickly finalized their plan for exterminating the Demons and worked out the specific details.

Avril and Teresa would be responsible for gathering intelligence and identifying potential contracts through the Merchant Faction and the Adventurer’s Guild.

Galvis, in turn, would be in charge of preparing the necessary supplies for their expeditions.

After dinner, the once lively courtyard fell silent, leaving Roland by himself.

He knocked lightly on a door and described the upcoming plan to Bronson, then headed straight for the Knight Academy.

The training grounds were empty at dusk.

Roland stood motionless, his eyes closed.

His chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm.

He carefully sensed the rhythm of the Qi Sensitivity flowing within him. A moment later, he opened his eyes and stood before a thick wooden post, one so wide it would take two people to wrap their arms around it.

It was a piece of training equipment, exceptionally hard.

Grasping the training Iron Sword, the cold touch of the metal sharpened his Spirit.

’First, I’ll try to maintain the subtle and demanding rhythm of the Knight’s Breathing Technique while executing my Swordsmanship...’

The thought had barely crossed his mind before he began his first attempt.

However, as his Longsword cut through the air with a familiar slash, the budding stream of Energy scattered in an instant, like a startled flock of birds.

The coordination between his movements and his breathing was incredibly awkward.

The Sword Momentum was powerful, but it only produced a dull rush of wind, no different from his usual Swordsmanship practice.

Hahh...

Roland exhaled sharply, his brow furrowed.

’Maintaining the Breathing Technique while in combat... it’s definitely not as easy as it sounds.’

As his thoughts settled, he calmed his breathing, centered himself, and took his stance once more.

On his second attempt, Roland focused more of his attention on his breathing.

He inhaled, long and slow, trying to guide that Power into his arm.

He raised the Longsword slowly, his movements deliberate.

Just as the blade was about to reach its apex, he exhaled sharply and put his strength into the swing, desperately trying to maintain the rhythm of his Qi Sensitivity.

But he lost the rhythm.

His excessive Concentration on breathing made the point of exertion in his swing sluggish and stiff.

The sword’s trajectory was clumsy, its Power greatly diminished. It felt like he was hacking at tough leather, completely ineffectual.

A dull ache spread through his arm from the uncoordinated movement.

"Damn it!"

Roland cursed under his breath as sweat beaded on his temples.

He felt a draining fatigue, as if his Spirit were being torn in two.

He had to control the external trajectory and timing of his Sword Techniques while simultaneously maintaining the internal, ethereal rhythm of his Qi Sensitivity.

The two tasks were like a pair of wild, untamable stallions, each pulling him in a different direction.

A third time, a fourth...

The result was always the same.

Each attempt ended in failure: his Qi Sensitivity would dissipate, his form would break, or his Power would drain away.

Sometimes he would forget the breathing rhythm the moment he swung. Other times, he’d manage the breathing but fail to channel the faint Power into his Sword Techniques. Most often, he’d lose focus on one while tending to the other, leaving his sword strike limp and his Qi Sensitivity scattered.

The only sounds on the training grounds were his own ragged gasps and the monotonous whistle of the Longsword slicing through the air.

Sweat soaked through his shirt, the cool fabric clinging to his skin, but it couldn’t quench the fire in his heart.

Roland could clearly feel that with each attempt, his control over the Breathing Technique was growing ever so slightly more adept.

Hahhh...

Letting out a long breath, he stopped, leaning on his sword hilt and panting softly as he recalled the details of practicing the Breathing Technique in stillness.

’Resonance... nature...’

He closed his eyes, no longer deliberately dissecting every detail of his Sword Techniques, nor forcing the perfect guidance of his Qi Sensitivity.

Instead, he submerged his mind into the fundamental rhythm of the breath itself.

It was the very core, the pulse of the Knight’s Breathing Technique.

Inhale, imagining Energy flooding into his core like a tide.

Exhale, the Energy flowing to his limbs as if it were an extension of his own will.

He let go of his anxiety about failure, leaving only the pure intent to "maintain."

When he raised the Longsword again, his movements felt slow and deliberate.

He was no longer chasing speed, only a synchronicity between his inner state and outer actions.

Inhale...

He raised the Longsword steadily above his head. The sensation of a burning stream returned, faint but tenacious, flowing along the path of his will.

Exhale...

Power surged forth.

The Longsword descended with an unprecedented, crushing weight, as if it possessed a gravity of its own, cleaving ferociously through the air.

In the instant the blade and his breath reached a certain, indescribable point of harmony...

SCHRRIIIP!

A dull, shocking tearing sound erupted!

The Longsword hadn’t struck empty air. Instead, it passed through the center of the wooden post as if it weren’t there, like a hot knife through butter!

Roland remained in his finishing stance, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.

He stared in disbelief at the scene before him.

The sturdy wooden post had been sliced cleanly in two.

The cut was astonishingly smooth; he could even see the fine texture of the growth rings.

The two halves of the post slid apart slightly before crashing heavily to the ground with a tremendous CLANG, throwing up a cloud of dust.

His arm ached with a deep, boneless exhaustion, and a profound weariness washed over him from the depths of his Spirit.

But all of that was drowned out by the sheer shock of the incredible sight before him.

Roland looked down at the slightly trembling training Longsword in his hand. After confirming that it was unsharpened on both sides, he glanced back at the two halves on the ground, his eyes filled with astonishment, and a trace of...

...an indescribable, Burning realization.

’So this is the true Power... of the Knight’s Breathing Technique in combat?’