After a week of staying at Garhan's mansion, it was finally time for Luke to depart to the Academy of Berch Gyara. He had been training diligently for the whole week, absorbing whatever knowledge he could, training his physical body, and refining both his skills as a Gunner and his craftsmanship ability. His hard work could be seen just from his system window.

Luke Raynott

Alignment: Neutral

Title: None

Class: Gunner (Growth)

Specialty: Instincts of the Weak (Passive)

Strength: 8 | Agility: 11 | Intelligence: 6 (+2) | Divinity: 0 | Luck: 1 | Wisdom: 12 | Dexterity: 4

Skills: Double Round (Lvl 2), Gunner Craftsmanship (Lvl 2), Lock On (Lvl 1)

Overall Rating: Average

His physical stats had increased by a large margin compared to what he had started out with, and even his intelligence and wisdom weren’t falling behind. His skills had leveled up through constant use over the last four days, and his persistent craftsmanship efforts had increased his dexterity by two points. While it was a small increase, given the short amount of time that had passed, his overall progress was remarkable. The system's overall rating of him was enough to show how much effort he had put in. Feeling slightly proud, he rubbed his nose as he looked at his status window.

The preparations were already completed by Charles, and all he had to do now was step out of his room and head to the mansion gate, where a carriage awaited to take him to the academy. Throughout the past week, apart from the first meal they had together, Luke had not seen Garhan, nor had the latter sought him out. Luke didn’t mind. In his opinion, Garhan could have done far worse—he could have outright blamed Luke for his misfortunes rather than just ignoring him. The fact that Garhan had refrained from hostility was something Luke quietly appreciated.

Of course, Luke was almost certain that he had been under constant surveillance. His activities were likely laid bare before Garhan’s eyes, but that was nothing to be concerned about. If his assumptions were correct, Garhan would at least come to see him off before his departure—if he acknowledged Luke’s efforts, that is.

Clearing his thoughts, Luke reached into a drawer and took out something wrapped in a soft cotton cloth. Even through the white fabric, faint navy blue streaks of light could be seen moving in a rhythmic pattern. As he unwrapped it, the cloth revealed a flintlock pistol that looked almost magical.

The weapon was nothing short of a masterpiece. Its design was both fashionable and luxurious, its sleek frame adorned with intricate engravings that exuded craftsmanship beyond ordinary flintlocks. The pulsating navy blue streaks along its barrel and grip gave it an otherworldly presence, shimmering softly as if imbued with mystical energy. The refined handle was carved from dark, polished wood, offering both elegance and a sturdy grip, while the silver inlays along the barrel and trigger guard made it look like a noble’s prized firearm rather than a simple tool for combat.

This was the result of Luke’s relentless efforts—after upgrading nearly eighty pistols, he had finally produced something extraordinary. A smile tugged at his lips as he gently ran his fingers over the barrel, caressing the weapon like it was his own child.

Enhanced Flintlock Pistol

Type: Firearm

Attack Power: 98-118 Base physical pierce damage (+bullet damage)

Range: 35-107 meters

Scaling: Dexterity C+

Accuracy: 118%

Durability: 100/100

Rarity: Rare

Details: Due to a significant upgrade, this pistol is in far better condition than ordinary flintlock pistols. The improvements have enhanced its accuracy, range, and durability, making it a formidable weapon despite its single-shot nature. It still requires manual reloading after each shot, but its refined craftsmanship makes the process smoother and faster.

Skill: Explosive Bullet
Cooldown: 10 minutes
Effect: Upon activation, the next bullet fired explodes on impact, dealing AoE damage equal to 200% of the weapon’s base damage in addition to the bullet’s base damage. The explosion can damage multiple enemies within a 2-meter radius.

This was absurd.

As Luke admired the pistol in his hand, he couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. Compared to the broken, rusted flintlock he had been offered when he first arrived, this was in an entirely different league. Back then, he wouldn’t have trusted those scraps of metal to fire a bullet, let alone keep him alive in combat. But now, after painstakingly upgrading dozens of pistols, he had finally created a masterpiece.

His pistol had undergone a 295% enhancement, almost reaching the absolute limit of 300%. From his observations, anything below 100% remained Normal, between 100% to 200% was classified as Uncommon, and anything beyond that was Rare. The success rate for even reaching the Normal tier was abysmally low, yet he had somehow defied the odds and produced this gem. He had been expecting something decent, but to get a weapon this good?

It was almost laughable how lucky he had been.

Lock On (Lvl 1) was the skill he received as an achievement reward for creating this monster.

The only thing missing was custom ammunition. If he had the ability to craft enhanced bullets as well, he'd be truly formidable. But that was a problem for another time. Even as it was, this pistol was an absolute monster, and what made it even better was its exclusive skill—Explosive Bullet.

Double Round and Explosive Bullet together? That was practically a dream combination.

He could already imagine it: activating Explosive Bullet and firing once, only for Double Round to instantly replicate the shot. Two consecutive explosive rounds with no delay. If his assumption was correct, this was going to make him an absolute menace in battle.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Young master, it's time to depart," Charles' familiar voice came through the door. "I've also arranged the holster you requested."

Luke took one last look at the pistol, then carefully wrapped it back in its soft cotton cloth before placing it on his bedside.

"Coming." He walked over and opened the door, greeted by Charles' usual composed expression. The butler held out a finely crafted gun holster with a slight bow. "Here you are. As per your request, it was made to fit multiple firearms."

Luke took the holster and examined it with appreciation. It was not only practical but stylish as well. The deep black leather was adorned with subtle silver embroidery, giving it a regal yet understated appearance. It was well-balanced, with a snug fit for his pistols while allowing for quick access.

"This is perfect." He strapped the holster around his waist, adjusting it until it sat comfortably. He then secured his newly enhanced pistol into its rightful place. Satisfied, he gave Charles a nod. "Did you pack everything?"

"Yes. Your luggage is all accounted for, including the dozen pistols you crafted during your stay." Charles' answer was precise and reassuring, as always.

It wasn't a mystery to Charles that Luke had been crafting his own pistols, especially since he was the provider of all the ingredients.

"Good." Luke exhaled, giving one final glance around the room. "Then I guess it's time to go."

Charles gestured toward the hallway. "After you, young master."

Luke walked out through the grand corridors of the mansion, their footsteps echoing against the polished floors. As they reached the front entrance, a large, luxurious carriage awaited him.

The same majestic black horses with pulsating blue manes that had escorted him here stood at the front, their otherworldly appearance even more striking in the daylight. He hadn't expected to feel any attachment, but seeing them again gave him a strange sense of nostalgia. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the grand blue-and-white-themed mansion, knowing that this would likely be the last time he saw it for a long while.

A sharp, authoritative cough snapped him out of his thoughts.

He turned and saw Garhan Timberdell stepping out from the mansion. The viscount’s powerful presence was impossible to ignore, his piercing gaze scanning Luke with a critical eye. His gray-white hair, neatly combed back, reflected the sunlight, and his stance radiated authority.

Luke bowed his head slightly in greeting. "Viscount Garhan."

Garhan folded his arms across his chest, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument. "Do not get ahead of yourself. I am only doing all this so that the others do not see Timberdells as weak." He eyed Luke sternly. "Be sure to learn as much as you can, but do not overestimate yourself. Do not go picking fights with those beyond your reach—it will only make the Timberdells a laughingstock."

Luke barely stopped himself from smirking. So you came after all, huh? He had a feeling that if Garhan truly thought he was useless, he wouldn’t have bothered to see him off at all. His presence alone meant something.

Still, the viscount’s words were classic tsundere behavior.

Luke chuckled softly, giving a light nod. "Don't worry. Even if I don’t look the strongest, the only thing I’ll attach to the Timberdell name is more fame and glory. I won’t make a fool of myself."

Garhan studied him for a moment, then scoffed. "With that snake-like nature of yours, I am sure you would never gamble on a losing war." Despite his gruff tone, there was a hint of approval in his eyes.

Then, with a firm motion, Garhan placed his sturdy hand on Luke’s shoulder and adjusted the carp-shaped brooch attached to his dark blue jacket. It was a silent but unmistakable sign of acknowledgment.

Luke didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. He simply gave a respectful nod in response.

"Now go," Garhan said. "I have arranged a squad of six to escort you safely to Berch Gyara."

Luke appreciated the thought put into his safety. He gave one final look at the grand mansion before stepping into the luxurious carriage. As soon as he settled inside, the black horses neighed, their blue manes flickering like ethereal flames.

And with that, Luke Raynott set off toward the Academy of Berch Gyara.

Silence…

The wind whispered through the dense canopy, its soft murmurs the only sound accompanying the steady rhythm of galloping hooves. The carriage glided through the narrow forest path, eerily smooth, as if floating upon the earth rather than rolling over it. Luke found himself questioning whether he was truly moving forward or if he was caught in some endless dream where time barely trickled forward.

His head rested against his knuckles, gaze fixed beyond the window as the slowly darkening forest stretched endlessly before him. The towering trees swayed gently, their leaves shimmering under the faint silver glow of the approaching twilight. Night was creeping in, spreading its arms over the sky like an artist washing his canvas with the first strokes of darkness.

A yawn escaped his lips, his left hand lazily covering his mouth as he blinked away the creeping drowsiness. The entire day had passed in a haze of monotony. Even with books stacked on the seat beside him, he found little solace in their pages. He had read, flipped through words without truly absorbing them, anything to distract himself from the stillness that threatened to lull him into sleep.

Outside, three carriages carved their path through the wilderness, their passengers invisible behind thick curtains and polished wood. Luke’s own carriage, the most ornate of the trio, carried him at its heart, while the other two, filled with his assigned escort knights, flanked him in protection. Their presence was necessary, yet unintrusive, maintaining a silent vigil as they traveled deeper into the unknown.

Time drifted by, and as the last hints of twilight surrendered to the night, the world above came alive. Twin moons hung like silent sentinels, their luminescence casting long shadows through the trees. The sky was a canvas of stars, scattered like fragments of shattered glass, their twinkling dance adding depth to the midnight expanse.

Then, a voice broke through the serenity.

“Sir, we have reached the free city of Windel. We’ll be resting here for the night.”

The coachman’s words pulled Luke from his idle thoughts, his gaze shifting toward the horizon. As he leaned out slightly, the first sight of the city greeted him.

Windel, bathed in silver moonlight and the warm flickering glow of lanterns, stretched before him like a gem set within the valley. Modest yet beautiful, its sturdy walls stood as silent protectors, not towering in grandeur but firm in resilience. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond, the gleam of their armor catching the light as they moved with quiet discipline.

As the carriage neared the grand bronze gate, figures approached. The guards, their faces partially shadowed beneath helmets, exchanged brief words with the coachman before stepping aside. Without further delay, the gate groaned open, granting them passage into the city.

The shift in surroundings was immediate. The uneven dirt path gave way to meticulously laid cobblestone streets, their surfaces worn yet well-kept. Rows of houses and shops stood along the roads, their wooden frames glowing warmly under the light of hanging lanterns. The city pulsed with life, a stark contrast to the silence of the journey.

Luke took it all in with wide eyes.

The shouts of vendors haggling with customers filled the air, their voices overlapping in a chorus of bargaining and banter. Couples strolled through the streets, hands entwined, sharing hushed words and quiet laughter. Children ran between carts and stalls, their delighted shrieks breaking the otherwise rhythmic hum of the marketplace. It was a scene so full of energy, so brimming with humanity, that for a moment, Luke forgot the world he had left behind.

Among the crowd, a few familiar figures caught his attention—Canthros people, their distinct features setting them apart.

As the carriages rolled deeper into the city, a structure loomed above all else. A towering clock tower, rising like a monument to time itself, its presence both commanding and graceful. The massive construct stretched into the heavens, its colossal height rivaling a twenty-story building from his previous world.

It was a beacon, guiding weary travelers toward the heart of Windel.

Luke’s carriage pulled to a halt beneath its imposing presence, the gentle creak of wood signaling their arrival. Across from the tower stood a lavish, well-lit building, its windows casting a golden glow onto the cobbled streets. A wooden signboard hung above its entrance, the elegant script carved upon it reading:

Lily Inn.