In the blink of an eye, five hours passed.
It was now nine-thirty at night.
Rook finally stopped swinging his sword.
The moment he left his state of intense concentration, the focus that had been holding him together disappeared.
Fatigue crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Every muscle in his body ached.
Sweat streamed into his eyes, stinging so badly that he could barely keep them open.
His heart pounded violently.
His mind went blank.
His legs felt weak.
Rook gasped for breath, fighting the instinct to simply collapse onto the deck.
Instead, he began regulating his condition through a special rhythmic breathing method.
It was a technique he had comprehended alongside the fundamentals of swordsmanship.
It could greatly relax his muscles and help him restore his body’s balance after intense exertion.
Several minutes later, his heartbeat gradually returned to normal.
Rook slowly exhaled a long breath and wiped the salty sweat from his face.
He could clearly feel his body protesting.
He needed salt.
He needed nutrients.
Forcing his exhausted body to move, Rook headed toward the ship’s dining room.
There, he found the leftovers from dinner, already gone cold.
He looked at the large basin containing barely any vegetable soup.
Without hesitation, Rook lifted the entire basin and drank straight from it.
The unpleasant broth, mixed with mushy vegetable leaves, poured into his stomach.
Rook felt as though his body was greedily absorbing every trace of nutrition.
After finishing the soup, he looked toward the cold fried rice and pan-fried meat still sitting on the table.
A short while later—
Rook sat on a stool with one hand resting over his stomach.
He let out a satisfied breath.
There was something deeply satisfying about having a full stomach.
It was the feeling of being alive.
He could even clearly sense the exhaustion inside his body gradually fading.
Bit by bit, strength seemed to return to his muscles and bones.
Suddenly—
Rook’s gaze shifted.
A strange instinctive sensation appeared.
It felt as though something new had quietly emerged within his body.
With a thought, the translucent system panel appeared.
Then, beneath the Skills section, Rook clearly saw a completely new entry slowly forming.
Self-Recovery — Untrained: 0/10
A new skill.
A new possibility.
Surprise and excitement flashed across Rook’s face.
Just by looking at the obviously recovery-oriented skill, he instinctively understood what had happened.
His talent, [Learning Pays Off], had activated.
The human body naturally possessed the ability to recover itself.
It was a physiological process constantly taking place in the background.
His recent high-intensity training had gradually conditioned his body into a certain pattern.
Then the large amount of nutrition and energy he had just consumed pushed that natural recovery process to a temporary peak.
That, in turn, triggered his talent.
His body had successfully “learned” from the process and manifested it as a specialized recovery skill.
So this was a kind of conditional, instinctive self-learning based on the body’s natural functions?
Thinking about it, that actually made sense.
When learning something like swordsmanship, he possessed a clear and conscious intention to learn.
That was why the skill could manifest fairly quickly.
But Self-Recovery was different.
There was no conscious intention involved.
It was almost like the difference between an active skill and a passive skill.
If that was the case—
Then his talent, [Learning Pays Off], definitely contained deeper possibilities that he had yet to discover.
Apparently, whether a skill manifested through his talent had some unusual relationship with his own conscious intent.
Even though this new skill had yet to officially reach beginner level, simply manifesting it already produced a faint effect.
And his continued improvement in basic swordsmanship was, in a sense, also the gradual development of finer control over his own body.
As his training improved his sensory awareness, Rook became increasingly capable of perceiving subtle changes within himself.
Right now—
His recovery efficiency was clearly stronger than before.
The strain accumulated in his muscles…
The abrasions and torn skin across his palms…
They were all beginning to recover at a slow but steady rate.
At that moment, Rook glanced around the messy dining room.
Rook grimaced.
Then he stood up and walked out without looking back.
On deck—
Rook rested both arms against the railing.
The cool, salty sea breeze brushed across his face.
In one corner of the deck, four or five pirates left behind to guard the ship were gambling with cards.
Their faces were flushed with excitement.
The losers cursed viciously.
The winners grinned from ear to ear.
Not far away, the streets of the port town were still bustling.
Colorful lights illuminated the storefronts.
Compared with the dim pirate ship, the brightly lit town seemed like an entirely different world.
For some reason—
Rook suddenly felt completely out of place. Get faster updates on g.com.
Awakening the memories of his previous life had changed the way he viewed things.
He didn’t necessarily reject the idea of living as a pirate.
But the life aboard this particular ship was something he could no longer accept from the bottom of his heart.
The memories of two lives had merged.
Two different sets of values had collided and gradually reconciled.
Looking back at the crude and vulgar pirates aboard the ship, an increasingly powerful feeling urged Rook to leave as soon as possible.
Human nature instinctively yearned for the light.
No one wanted to spend their entire life trapped in filthy mud.
Humans were social creatures.
No matter how solitary someone might be, they would still desire companions who shared the same ideals.
Rook tightened the iron sword at his waist.
Before he even realized it, his legs were already moving.
He walked down the gangplank.
But the moment he stepped onto the dock—
He stopped.
A faint sense of confusion and uncertainty arose in his heart.
It lasted only a moment.
Rook’s expression quickly returned to calm.
Then, with firm steps, he headed into town.
The first step of Rook Vane’s adventure—
The first step toward freedom—
Officially began here.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before Rook’s mouth started twitching.
Being broke really did make everything difficult.
A fragrant grilled meat skewer—
120 Berries.
A cup of milk tea—
150 Berries.
Rook entered a shop intending to buy an ordinary set of new clothes.
The moment he saw the prices, he turned around and walked straight back out.
His expression became increasingly awkward.
His clothes reeked of sweat.
Pedestrians passing nearby glanced at him with obvious disgust.
Even the street thugs wore cleaner clothes than he did.
What a waste of such a handsome face.
Rook screamed inwardly.
Money.
Money.
He still fucking needed money!
At that moment, he mentally cursed the damned first mate once again.
His entire aura seemed to darken.
It was almost as if black smoke were curling around his body.
Rook raised his head toward the sky.
Couldn’t some rich woman just fall out of heaven and sponsor him?
The next second—
Rook hurriedly sidestepped.
Splat.
A lump of bird droppings fell from above, barely missing him.
Then—
“Ouch!”
A voice sounded beside him.
While dodging the bird droppings, Rook had bumped into a pedestrian.
The man immediately glared at him.
Rook awkwardly apologized several times.
The pedestrian raised an eyebrow and covered his nose before sneering.
“Don’t you watch where you’re walking?”
“Are your eyes only there to breathe through?”
“What, did you fall into a toilet?”
Whether in his previous world or this one, there would never be a shortage of people eager to watch a spectacle.
The surrounding pedestrians immediately backed away.
In moments, the two of them were standing alone within a ten-meter stretch of street.
The person Rook had bumped into was a young man with yellow hair.
He seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.
His hand even moved toward the sword at his waist.
“I’m pissed off now.”
“One million Berries.”
“If you can’t pay, I’ll cut off one of your arms.”
Hearing that, Rook sighed.
He looked at the young man.
“Is that really necessary?”
“I already apologized.”
“Apologized?”
The yellow-haired man snorted.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“You’re nothing but some filthy beggar.”
At that moment—
Rook stepped forward with his right foot.
Power surged through his entire body.
His tightly clenched left fist shot forward.
Bang!
It slammed heavily into the young man’s abdomen.
The man’s body immediately folded.
A scream escaped his mouth.
Rook pivoted on his right foot.
His waist twisted.
The top of his foot smashed into the side of the man’s face.
Thud!
The young man toppled sideways and crashed to the ground.
Rook stepped forward and kicked him in the face.
The man’s entire body rolled across the street.
In an instant—
He was unconscious.
Rook’s cold gaze swept across the surrounding spectators.
They immediately scattered in every direction.
Rook grabbed the yellow-haired man by the hair and dragged him into a nearby alley.
He tossed him onto the ground.
“Did you really think you were somebody important?”
Rook crouched down and searched his pockets.
Soon, he pulled out a wallet.
Opening it, he found a small stack of Berries.
Using the available light, he quickly counted them.
Several seconds later—
“Tch. Broke bastard.”
“You demanded a million from me when you don’t even have three hundred thousand yourself.”
“Trash.”
Rook looked down at the unconscious young man.
His eyes settled on the black leather jacket the man was wearing.
Rook narrowed his eyes.
Then—
He stripped it off.
He lifted the jacket and gave it a cautious sniff.
“Mm.”
“Doesn’t stink.”
Rook removed the damp outer shirt he had been wearing and slipped on the leather jacket instead.
His firm, well-defined chest was left exposed underneath.
Unexpectedly, the jacket fit him perfectly.
It followed the contours of his body almost exactly.
At that moment—
A faint current of warmth rose from deep within him.
With a thought, Rook summoned the system panel.
His Hand-to-Hand Combat proficiency had increased by one.
He looked toward the young man, who was merely unconscious.
“From what I can tell so far, as long as I effectively use Hand-to-Hand Combat to defeat and incapacitate an enemy, I can gain proficiency.”
And judging from the impact of his strikes just now, Rook could tell that the yellow-haired man’s physical condition wasn’t bad at all.
He was actually somewhat stronger than the ordinary pirates aboard Norton’s ship.
Rook looked down at him.
He had no intention of killing him.
A short while later, Rook left the alley.
He walked down the street carrying the young man’s remaining clothes.
When he passed a pile of garbage, he casually tossed them inside.
Not long afterward—
Rook walked out of a clothing store.
He had spent ten thousand Berries on a complete set of properly fitting clothes.
Carrying the shopping bag, Rook headed toward one of the town’s hot spring establishments.
He paid another ten thousand Berries for a private hot spring bath.
Rook sank comfortably into the warm water.
“It feels like every pore in my body has opened up.”
“Damn, this is comfortable.”
He used a towel to scrub the accumulated grime from his skin.
Some time later—
Rook felt that his body had completely recovered.
At the same time, another faint stream of warmth emerged from within him.
The system panel appeared before his eyes.
His gaze immediately moved toward Self-Recovery.
Proficiency +1
“Based on how my previous skills worked, it looks like every complete and effective recovery cycle gives me one point of proficiency.”
“So that means I need nine more effective recoveries before this skill advances?”
Rook’s heart filled with anticipation.
If this recovery ability continued growing to higher levels in the future…
Perhaps one day he might genuinely become capable of the kind of absurd recovery where someone could practically sit back up after being killed.
Looking down, Rook noticed that his skin had already wrinkled slightly from soaking too long.
He climbed out of the bath.
A little while later—
Inside the changing room, Rook stood before a mirror.
A brown short-sleeved shirt with a raised collar.
Black trousers.
Simple cloth shoes.
A fitted black leather jacket over everything.
An iron sword hung from his waist.
Black hair.
Black eyes.
Well-proportioned facial features.
A high nose bridge.
Sharp, defined lips.
At nearly 1.9 meters tall, his body was balanced, upright, and athletic.
Rook rubbed his chin.
Then he grinned at his reflection.
“This life’s hardware is completely maxed out.”