As Thorian gazed through his window panel, a faint smile tugged at his lips. The scrolling numbers and intricate metrics whispered of an extraordinary potency surging within. Each figure echoed the might rippling through his sinews with every practiced strike, the resilience of bones akin to tempered steel, and an unfathomable reservoir of mana dwelling deep within.

  With an almost reverent awareness, he sensed the pulsating flow of power coursing through his veins, synchronizing with every beat of his heart. His attention drifted from the digital display to the village around him, the buildings standing as silent sentinels, sheltering countless lives within their walls. Amidst this panorama, a fleeting notion crept into Thorian's mind—a thought born not of malevolence, but of unshakeable certainty: I could effortlessly dismantle them with my bare hands.

  Yet, there was no nefarious allure lurking in Thorian’s spirit; rather, it was an unshakable confidence in his abilities that granted him an unusual serenity. Returning his focus to the status window, he resolved to assess the advancements in his two most frequently honed skills.

  Seems I’m making good headway in mastering these skills, Thorian mused, recognizing the accelerated pace of progress since his last assessment. Must be the effect of ‘Jack of all Trades’. Luckily I unlocked that passive early on.

  With an upbeat expression, Thorian strolled onto the guild’s grounds. Kobold and goblin magi diligently honed their mana manipulation and infusion skills, while the guild master provided guidance from the sidelines.

  Spotting Thorian, Fizzlegrin concluded his discussion with the gathered magi before approaching the Village Lord with a warm smile. “My lord, it’s a pleasure to see you. How may I assist?”

  “Could you fetch the scrolls for all the skills I haven’t yet acquired?” Thorian settled into a chair near the main desk. “And bring along any available quests while you’re at it.”

  “Right away, my lord.” Fizzlegrin nodded, rummaging through parchments beneath his desk. He produced half a dozen scrolls and presented them to Thorian. “Here are the scrolls. How many would you like to procure?”

  Before replying, Thorian opted to assess his current resources.

  Personal Resources.

  As Thorian beheld the amassed wealth, a satisfied smile graced his lips. Glancing back at Fizzlegrin, he replied succinctly, “All of them.”

  A pleased grin adorned the guild master’s face. “Very well, pleasure doing business with you, my lord,” Fizzlegrin said, rubbing his hands together before swiftly finalizing the transactions. He then made his way to the bulletin board to procure Thorian’s daily magus quests.

  Seizing the moment while Fizzlegrin was occupied, Thorian delved into the collection of elemental skills now in his possession.

  Ripping through the parchments, Thorian received a flurry of notifications, each signaling the acquisition of a new skill. After absorbing the last of the knowledge, he glanced back at the guild master.

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  “Your quests have been officially registered, my lord,” Fizzlegrin announced with a smile.

  Acknowledging the update, Thorian rose from his chair. “Thank you for your service, guild master. I'll see you later today.”

  Departing from the magus guild’s grounds, Thorian made his way back to the Alchemist’s Lab. As he stepped inside, an unusual scene greeted him. Instead of the usual dispersed activity across various stations, all the alchemists were clustered around a single workstation.

  Approaching to investigate, Thorian cleared his throat to announce his presence. Startled, the kobolds and goblins swiftly pivoted, hurriedly parting to make way for their lord.

  At the heart of the commotion stood Hamur, his focus fixed on a vial containing a light purple liquid. He concentrated intently, scrutinizing his creation.

  Observing the peculiar behavior of the gathered alchemists, Hamur pivoted to find Thorian watching him intently.

  “How did it go?” Thorian inquired. “Any success?”

  “Well, I’m not entirely certain,” Hamur responded with a wry expression, scrutinizing the potion in his hand. “Ideally, the hue should be a tad deeper. Considering this as a potion of average quality might be generous. The effect is present, but it falls slightly short of a superior brew.”

  Thorian approached Hamur, his curiosity evident with a raised eyebrow and a slightly agape mouth. Sensing his lord's presence, Hamur lowered his head, an apologetic look on his face. “I am sorry, my lord. I should have done bett—”

  Interrupting Hamur mid-apology, Thorian placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Your work is truly commendable, Hamur. You’ve done a great service for Forlune and for me.”

  A momentary silence lingered before Hamur released a deep sigh. “I hope I haven’t fallen short in my efforts.”

  Handing the potion to Thorian, Hamur received a nod of gratitude from the lord before he rushed out of the lab. Aware of the ongoing suffering in Forlune, Thorian couldn’t afford to waste a single moment.

  Hurrying to Forlune’s residence, Thorian dashed into the moon kobold’s chamber. There, he found the priest diligently casting spell after spell, trying desperately to stave off the worsening condition. Each of General Forlune’s breaths was labored, exuding a white miasma. His pores seeped blood, his complexion even more deeply purple than the day before.

  “My lord, I'm doing all I can, but the poison is spreading too rapidly,” the priest exclaimed, his voice tinged with despair. “At this rate, the general may not see the sunset.”

  Without uttering a word, Thorian approached Forlune's side. He carefully administered the light purple antidote, coaxing the moon kobold to swallow it despite the latter's resistance. Though Forlune struggled, Thorian ensured not a drop of the precious potion was wasted, persistently aiding him until the vial was emptied.

  “Was that the antidote, my lord?” the priest inquired hesitantly.

  “Yes, it was,” Thorian affirmed, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on Forlune. Despite the continued pallor and evident effects of the poison on Forlune's body, Thorian remained composed, knowing well that the efficacy of such potions demanded time. Seemingly unfazed, he seated himself beside Forlune, patiently awaiting signs of recovery.

  For nearly an hour, Thorian and the priest maintained their vigil, steadfastly observing the moon kobold's condition. Even as the antidote began its work, the priest utilized his class skills and racial abilities, striving to heal and alleviate Forlune's suffering.

  As time progressed, Forlune's complexion gradually shifted back toward normalcy. The deep purple hue that had dominated his body receded, leaving behind a faint tint. His once labored breaths, shrouded in a misty haze, cleared. Apart from sporadic bouts of expelling white mucus, signs of Forlune's recovery became increasingly apparent.

  While Thorian continued to keep a vigilant watch, Forlune's eyes fluttered open, accompanied by subdued moans of discomfort. Attempting to rise, Forlune was hindered by pain and exhaustion.

  “Don't strain yourself; you need rest,” Thorian gently guided Forlune back onto the bed. “Focus solely on recuperating for now.”

  “I showed you something pitiful, didn’t I?” Forlune managed a wry chuckle, his expression a blend of emotions. “I was so confident in my abilities, yet now I’m confined to this bed.”

  Thorian let out a contemplative sigh. “You misunderstand, Forlune. There's no shame in seeking support when you're at your lowest.” He fixed his gaze on the general. “We're not solitary figures but an interconnected army, a united village, a cohesive unit. When one of us falters, the rest rally to their aid. That's the essence of unity—selflessly assisting others, knowing they'd do the same for you.”

  Forlune struggled to reply, words escaping him. Eventually, he sighed softly, murmuring, “Thank you… my king.”

  With an encouraging smile, Thorian patted Forlune's shoulder. “Rest well. There's a challenge awaiting you once you're back on your feet.”

  A spark ignited in Forlune's eyes at Thorian's words, and a grin emerged. “Then I'll work hard to leave this bed as swiftly as I can.”

  Chuckling warmly, Thorian rose. With his task of ensuring Forlune's recovery and the antidote's efficacy confirmed, he knew his responsibilities as a lord still beckoned.

  With a nod to Forlune, Thorian departed, leaving the general to his recuperation.