Paragon of Skills

Sir Greyson is extremely worried after they found corpses remains in the first floor. But none of them looked like Bocaj Duolc. However, even if those weren't his remains, it still meant something had happened.

"Do you think he's ok? Wasn't there the merchant son troubling him? Could he have…"

"The Shellford Family?" Sir Greyson asks. "He would have brought with him Classed help to clear the first floor. Young Bocaj seemed confident enough in doing it on his own, instead."

"If that bastard attacked him…" Felisia hisses like a feral cat.

"Milady, if he did," Sir Greyson clears his throat, "I don't think it ended well for him."

"As he deserves," Felisia harrumphs.

They finally reach the end of the first floor and arrive at the second. They enter and neither of them looks worried. Sir Greyson is a Platinum Knight, whereas Felisia has already reached Level 60, making her at the very least as strong as a Silver Adventurer. Both could have cleared this Dungeon easily on their own.

"If he really entered here, he might need our help, Sir Greyson," Felisia says worriedly. "The Magma Claws here are sturdy and hard to kill. If Bocaj was stupid enough to face one, he might be close to dying right now. Do you have any healing pill on you?"

Sir Greyson nodds. Then, his ears pick up on something. There's a noise, something that gives him pause.

He frowns and puts a finger over his lips looking at Felisia, suggesting they both stay silent for a moment.

They peek from a corner and what they see stuns them both.

Jacob—shirtless, scorched, and panting—stands in the middle of the second-floor cavern, facing off against a towering Magma Claw. Twin blades of fire orbit him like wolves, darting and flicking with eerie precision. His hair is damp with sweat, his stance low and narrow, and the heat surrounding him is so intense that even Sir Greyson feels the scorch against his armor.

Felisia's eyes widen. "Is he… controlling two Hell's Swords at once?"

Sir Greyson says nothing.

Because it's not just the twin blades.

Jacob dances between stone ridges and ash-melted slopes, hurling himself forward on spiraling bursts of fire from his feet—Fire Walk. One shield flickers into place a heartbeat before molten slag explodes near his flank. Fire Armor flows across his chest in timed pulses, hardening just before each impact and fading the moment he evades. Fire Slash scythes out from both swords when they reach the apex of their arc, leaving twin gouges in the slag-beast's flesh.

"He's using all five at once," Sir Greyson mutters. "And he's doing it like—like he's practiced it for years."

"No one practices five Skills at once!" Felisia says, stunned. "Especially not from the same set! He—he should've burned through his Mana ten minutes ago!"

Jacob stumbles. A claw just misses his face, slicing through flame, grazing skin. Blood streaks his arm—but he spins, regains balance, and counterattacks with terrifying precision. One Hell's Sword tears upward, severing a weakened stone joint; the other slams down like a meteor, striking just as Fire Shield blooms behind him to deflect a second strike.

Sir Greyson and Felisia both notice something. Jacob's stance adjusts. The way he deflected the close-quarter strike of the Magma Claw had been awkward, but now, he's shifting stance, he's…

"He's corrected that mistake," Sir Greyson says with keen eyes. "His Fire Walk had cornered him because he was overextending, it was stopping him from moving freely. He just—"

"He's… refining all his Skills in real time."

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Sir Greyson says in awe.

Then, the Knight notices something, Jacob maneuvers around the Magma Claw but also opens a blind spot to it for a second. But as a the Magma Claw steps in to batter Jacob, which almost makes Sir Greyson jump in, Jacob, as if he had eyes behind his head, bends at an unnatural angle with his torso and, dodging the blow, stabs back at the creature's chest.

"How—" Felisia mutters.

The Magma Claw roars and lashes out in a spinning fury, lava spewing from its shoulders. The chamber trembles.

Jacob takes a hit square in the chest. Fire Armor absorbs most of it—but the heat still launches him backward.

He slams into the stone. Coughs.

Felisia surges forward—but Sir Greyson catches her wrist.

"Wait."

Jacob stares at the monster. One Hell's Sword flickers—almost dying. His mana is near-empty.

As the young man narrows his gaze, Sir Greyson can feel the mana coursing through his body.

He has already leveled Mana Pool beyond level ninety. There's no other explanation. He has no Attributes. The level at which he's fighting could rival someone with a low-leveled Class. Young Bocaj is truly extraordinary.

Sir Greyson has seen many fighters at the Academy and he is young enough to remember his own feats when he was Young Bocaj's age. In fact, he can clearly remember not being not nearly as strong as the boy in front of him.

It's not just that. The expertise he shows in fighting after he was barely capable of holding a sword in his hands a few days ago… the way he adjusts… he's a true genius, like those monsters at Ytrial.

Jacob's breathing deepens, his chest rising and falling in rapid bursts as he pushes himself upright. One hand presses against his ribs. A patch of Fire Armor cracks and flickers out.

Hell's Sword floats beside him, but something's different now.

Blue sparks start dancing along its edge.

Sir Greyson stiffens. His breath catches in his throat.

"No," he whispers. "That's—that's not just flame anymore."

Felisia sees it too. "What's happening to his sword?"

Sir Greyson doesn't answer.

Because he can't.

Because he has no words for what he's seeing.

Jacob's mana is flickering. And still, he charges.

The Magma Claw bellows and lashes sideways with both arms. Jacob ducks low. Not a trained dodge. A slip. An instinct. Sir Greyson watches the movement and realizes with a sharp jolt what he's seeing.

"He's… sensing the vibrations in the floor," the Knight breathes. "That's how he's reading it. That's how he dodged."

Felisia looks at him, confused. "What? Like a Skill?"

"Yes," Sir Greyson mutters. "It's called Minor Vibration Sense. It's an Iron Skill. Most people use it for mining. But nobles… nobles know how to train it. Some of the best Knights—the one from the most elite families—use it to detect footsteps, read the shift in balance, time their counters."

"How does he know to use that like this?"

"He shouldn't. No commoner should. Not without years of elite instruction. His master must have taught him."

Jacob's left foot pivots and slides on the ash-stained floor just in time to avoid another claw. His sword snaps up, not slashing but thrusting like a lance into the Magma Claw's shoulder. The beast reels, flame bursting from the wound.

Golden flecks now shimmer in the wake of Fire Walk. Fire Slash pulses with the same luster. And when Fire Shield flares beside him, it burns with an inner gold-core glow.

Then Sir Greyson sees it.

Jacob doesn't stop. He twists between another pair of claws, rolls under a lava-blade of an arm, and drives both Hell's Swords into the Magma Claw's sternum. Fire Slash bursts out of both blades like twin arcs.

The Magma Claw trembles.

Then topples, dead.

Jacob drops to one knee.

Hell's Sword doesn't just spark.

Its edge blazes blue.

Pure, sharp, almost celestial blue.

Sir Greyson grabs Felisia's arm, voice low and urgent.

"He did it."

"Did what?"

"He just brought all five Skills to Level 100."

But there's no time to rest.

Two more Magma Claws lumber into the chamber. The ground quakes under their combined weight. Each one is broader, thicker, and burning hotter than the last.

Felisia steps forward, her rapier drawn.

"I'm going in," she says.

Sir Greyson puts a hand on her shoulder. "Wait."

"What? Why? He's out of mana!"

But Jacob is already rising.

And from his pack, he pulls a Skill Crystal.