The Devouring Knight-Chapter 100 - 99: The Edge Before Ascension

Within the quiet stone chambers of Duskspire’s inner keep, Lumberling sat cross-legged beneath the steady glow of a single lantern. The light flickered across the wooden floor and caught the dust that had begun to settle on his spear, leaning untouched against the wall.

It wasn’t negligence.

It was focus.

His mind was elsewhere, on edges that had dulled, on skills that hovered just shy of the next threshold. Beginner Hammer Shock, Beginner Concealment, Beginner Swordsmanship, Beginner Shieldmanship, Beginner Cudgel Fighting... all of them nearly ready to evolve. One more push. And they’d level.

He stood and walked to the desk.

There, neatly stacked, lay the weight of months of effort. Skill manuals collected with blood-earned gold and scavenged from corpses. Each one a thread of knowledge, a sliver of someone else’s mastery, now his to inherit.

Shadow Glide, purchased back in Novgord City during his dojo training years ago, his core method for honing Concealment. It was subtle, precise, and perfectly suited for vanishing between heartbeats.

Shield Bash, recovered from the ruins of a burned city during one of their early expeditions. Crude, but effective, ideal for refining his Shieldmanship through brute counters and raw, forward pressure.

Flowing Edge, a refined sword style meant for sustained clashes, perfect for transitioning Swordsmanship from basic form to fluid offense.

The Bonecrush Method, a brutal cudgel technique recovered from an old Red Fang stash, designed for close-quarters devastation.

Hawk-Eye Manual, salvaged from a bandit leader’s corpse, an archer’s handbook that helped him push through the early stages of Bowmanship.

Carnage Dance, a dual axe technique that emphasized rhythm and relentless pressure. Still untrained, but it called to him like a sleeping beast.

And lastly, two unopened manuals, Dual Blades and Dagger Arts. He hadn’t invested in those skills yet, but they would be ready when the time came.

All this... paid for through hard-won contracts, monster part sales, and scavenged loot. And none of it was wasted. Even if most of the manuals were only Mediocre or Rare-Mediocre in quality, in this world, they were still considered treasures.

(Skill manuals were graded by rarity and depth:

Mediocre – could push a skill to early Knight Page level.

Rare-Mediocre – enough to reach Knight Apprentice level.

Low-Tier – Knight 1.

Intermediate – Knight 2.

Advanced – Knight 3.

High-Tier – Knight 4.

Legendary – Knight 5.)

They hadn’t wasted coin on luxury. They bought survival, bound in leather and ink.

Because knowledge could be grown. Sharpened. Passed down.

And more than once, it had kept them alive.

Lumberling’s fingers hovered over the stack.

’Before I walk the path of cultivation... before I dare ignite my qi... I finish this.’

Every skill he mastered now was a foundation stone.

’Clean the board... before I build a new one.’

A knock broke the quiet.

"My Lord?" Skitz’s voice called through the wood.

Lumberling stood and opened the door.

Skitz leaned casually against the frame, dressed in dark leathers, his twin daggers glinting faintly in the torchlight. "We’re heading out. Three new monster contracts. One bandit group needs culling too."

Lumberling gave a small nod. "Good. Keep the pressure up."

"You sure you don’t want in?" Skitz asked with a grin. "Could use the morale boost of you decapitating someone. Always gets the lads fired up."

Lumberling offered the faintest smile. "Just call if things go sideways."

Skitz gave a mock salute, half-grinning. "Don’t worry, my Lord. I’ve got this."

He turned and disappeared into the dusk. Outside, the Duskspire elite squad were already mounting up, silent and sharp. No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Lumberling stood there for a moment, watching them go.

Then he shut the door and turned back to his manuals, to the training mat in the corner, to the iron weights stacked neatly along the wall.

’This,’ he thought, walking back toward the desk, ’is the benefit of leadership.’

He had subordinates now, capable ones. Hardened in battle. Trusted.

With Skitz coordinating operations and Aren commanding squads, the Duskspire Legion continued to grow in strength and influence. Contracts flowed in. Their name carried weight. And Lumberling, he could focus on something else.

On evolution, training.

On the long road ahead.

He didn’t need to micromanage. That was the point of building something that could stand without you.

Trask. Gorrak. Rogar. Skitz. Aren.

They weren’t just mercenaries.

They were pillars.

He had chosen them well.

Trained them better.

And now, they carried the weight of his vision... while he forged the future.

He returned to the floor, settling cross-legged again beneath the lantern.

The silence greeted him once more.

But this time, it didn’t feel empty.

It was filled with purpose.

.....

Three Weeks Later – Duskspire’s Base

Lumberling trained alone.

Not by necessity, but by design.

He had laid low for three weeks, withdrawn from missions and command. No battles, no leadership meetings, no interruptions. Only quiet. Only discipline.

Like a monk cloistered in stone.

Every morning, he rose before the sun, drenched himself in cold water, and took his place in the center of the training hall. His blade waited beside him. A worn training dummy stood across from him, scarred with countless strikes.

Clack. Swish. Strike.

He began with swordsmanship. One stroke at a time. Flow into flow. Breath matching blade. The Flowing Edge manual sat open on a table nearby, but he no longer needed to read it. He had memorized every line.

And then...

(Beginner Swordsmanship has reached Level 3. Power +144)

(Beginner Swordsmanship has transformed to Beginner Flowing Edge Lv3)

He paused. The moment felt heavy. The blade in his hand felt different, an extension now, not just a tool.

He exhaled slowly.

The rhythm had shifted. No longer practiced, it was natural. Alive. His wrist moved faster than thought. This wasn’t training anymore.

This was mastery in bloom.

And yet, doubt lingered. Was it enough? Was he enough? With every step forward, the shadow of his future enemies grew larger.

Over the Next Three Months...

Shield drills.

He strapped a battered wooden shield to his arm and slammed it over and over into the training post. The Shield Bash manual guided each strike.

(Beginner Shieldmanship has reached Level 1. Power +100)

(Beginner Shieldmanship has transformed to Beginner Shield Bash Lv1)

He felt the recoil change, less resistance, more weight behind it. The bash now rippled with impact. Not brute force, but directed shock.

Cudgel routines.

He spun the heavy mace in brutal arcs, following the Bonecrush Method, a ruthless, bone-shattering style once salvaged from the corpse-littered camp of a fallen bandit group they’d wiped out

(Beginner Cudgel Fighting has reached Level 1. Power +100)

(Beginner Cudgel Fighting has transformed to Beginner Bonecrush Method Lv1)

By the end of each session, his knuckles were raw. Blood soaked into the grip. But he welcomed it. Pain meant progress.

Hammer Shock.

This one was different.

They hadn’t found a matching skill manual, but Lumberling trained it relentlessly. free𝑤ebnovel.com

Unlike most passive abilities, Hammer Shock was an active skill, rare among early-stage knights. Typically, only True Knights could wield such techniques, but this one acted as a conduit, letting him channel raw force through his weapon even now.

A rare prize, earned by blood, taken by instinct.

Day after day, he trained without a manual. No reference. No teacher. Just trial and pain and repetition.

(Beginner Hammer Shock has reached Level 1. Power +100)

There was no transformation yet, no formal technique to take it further. But now, he could feel the mana ripple along his arm when he struck. A jolt. A burst. A conduit of raw power.

.....

"He’s at it again," Aren muttered, setting down his gear after another monster extermination run.

He and the rest of the team watched through the open courtyard window as Lumberling struck a shield post, again and again, bare-chested and sweat-drenched.

"That’s what he does when he’s cooking something new," Skitz shrugged. "Let him be."

Two Months Later...

A breakthrough.

Concealment, his oldest tool. The one skill that had saved his life more than any other. The core of his survival. His escape. His shadow.

He trained it alone in the woods. Blending with tree bark. Moving only when the wind rustled the leaves. Holding his breath until birds landed on his shoulders.

And finally...

(Beginner Concealment has reached Level 5. Power +208)

(Beginner Concealment has transformed to Beginner Shadow Glide Lv5)

The transformation felt like slipping through smoke.

His steps no longer made sound.

His presence became a suggestion, not a fact.

Even Skitz, a master of stealth, would struggle to spot him if he truly committed to hiding.

’Perfect.’

’Now, I can become the silence between heartbeats.’

....

That Night

He returned to his room, body sore, mind burning with purpose. He sat at his desk. There, two books lay open, handwritten from memory. One detailing the Imperial Mindseal Meditation. The other, the Ironblood Tempering Scripture.

Two manuals, pieced together from the fragments of Nie Fenghun’s memories.

Before diving into them, he pulled up his status window:

Name: Lumberling

Race: Human

Age: 24 years (1 month)

Level: 8

Essence Point: (16,829 / 17,800)

Power: 3,983 (Skills: 2,902 | Level: 1,081)

Knight Stage: Knight Apprentice

Cultivation Realm: Unranked

Fragment of Divine Blessing: Qi Adaptation

(A trait bestowed upon beings from the Martial Realms, allowing them to thrive in foreign energy systems.)

Active Skills

Beginner Sprint Lv1 (496/1000)

Beginner Hammer Shock Lv1 (0/1000)

Beginner Essence Weave Lv0 (343/1000)

(Derived from Essence Devour. Allows the user to bind the essence of a fallen enemy and channel it into another chosen vessel.)

Passive Skills

Essence Devour

Beginner Spearheart Doctrine Lv7 (636/1000)

Beginner Shadow Glide Lv5 (0/1000)

Beginner Flowing Edge Lv3 (0/1000)

Beginner Bowmanship Lv1 (542/1000)

Beginner Shield Bash Lv1 (0/1000)

Beginner Bonecrush Method Lv1 (0/1000)

Beginner Dual Wielding Axe Lv0 (371/1000)

Resistances

Beginner Poison Resistance Lv0 (183/1000)

He felt the power rise in him.

Quasi-Knights? He could destroy them now.

But True Knights? He wasn’t sure. That was a different wall entirely. The air around them changed. Their pressure wasn’t just physical, it was will given form.

He didn’t dwell on the thought. Not yet. Dangerous thoughts had no place without preparation.

His eyes flicked to one lingering skill: Poison Resistance.

He had a rough idea how to train it, perhaps through exposure, small doses building up his body’s tolerance. Risky, but worthwhile. A skill like that could save his life in the right moment.

On the other hand, several of his newly advanced techniques had already hit their next wall, Hammer Shock, Flowing Edge, Bonecrush Method.

He’d broken through once. Now the wall had risen again. Stronger. Thicker. The next leap would require more than time.

Knowledge. Application. Real battle.

’I’ll deal with it later,’ he thought.

For now, his gaze returned to the two manuals glowing under the lanternlight.

It was time.

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