As time went on, the energy radiating from John's body only grew more intense. If, before, he had been like a small furnace, then after his breakthrough, he had become a raging forge.
Even from a fair distance, one could clearly sense the powerful life force coursing through his veins. His presence pulsed with heat and strength, a palpable aura of vigor.
But more than that, the mana patterns across his skin were becoming increasingly dense and intricate, weaving across his body like an elaborate web—interlaced and pulsating like living veins of light.
To John, these elaborate mana patterns had once been unthinkable.
And now, both Celia and Old Jaque stood nearby, watching in shock as the changes unfolded.
They had always believed that John's advancement to Bronze Rank was essentially guaranteed. After all, his physical body was exceptionally strong—what held him back had always been the crippling defect in his mana patterns. So once that defect was resolved, a breakthrough was only natural.
But what neither of them had anticipated was that John wouldn't stop at Bronze Rank.
He had pushed straight through to Silver Rank in a single leap.
Silver Rank wasn't particularly impressive to veterans like Old Jaque or Celia, but the manner in which John achieved it was another story altogether.
A double rank breakthrough.
Even for them—seasoned travelers and former elites—this was a phenomenon so rare it bordered on myth.
In the early stages of power progression, breaking through even a single level required time, resources, and steady cultivation. It was not something done lightly, nor quickly. It often took months, even years, of preparation and refinement.
But John? He had jumped two entire ranks in a single sitting.
Celia, who had already sensed Old Jaque's true strength, now stared at him with an even more intense expression.
She knew John was talented—there was no denying it. But what kind of miracle potion had this old man given him? How could it possibly restore mana patterns so completely, so overwhelmingly?
She had personally examined John's body before. Back then, his mana pattern only existed in his head. The rest of his body was utterly devoid—practically a magical cripple.
Under normal circumstances, someone like that wouldn't even be worth a second glance.
Yet after just one potion, he had undergone a transformation that would shake the very foundation of any magical academy or empire.
But Old Jaque didn't meet her stunned gaze. He was just as baffled himself.
That formula… it had been something he'd stumbled across in his younger years, a half-forgotten recipe from a distant land. He never expected it to be this effective.
So effective, in fact, that he was starting to doubt his own memories.
He had a gut feeling—if this potion were given to someone else, someone even more talented than John, their results wouldn't come close to this. Their mana patterns wouldn't evolve to this extent, nor would they break through ranks so rapidly.
No. The potion helped—but the real reason for this explosive progress was simple:
John was a monster.
In the center of the courtyard, John paid no attention to their reactions. He was too busy adjusting to the newfound power surging through his veins.
Elemental forces churned within him like a roaring river. He could feel a profound resonance between his internal energy and the elements in the surrounding air. With a mere flick of thought, he felt he could unleash devastating might, the likes of which had been impossible before.
His combat strength had undergone a complete metamorphosis.
He hadn't yet tested himself in battle, but he knew, with absolute certainty, that he was no longer the same man he had been just hours ago.
Opening his eyes, John noticed Celia and Old Jaque both staring at him as though he were a rare species just discovered in the wild.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked with a dry chuckle, trying to suppress the thrill bubbling inside him. "Sure, breaking through two ranks in one go is a little shocking, but it's not that weird for someone like me, right?"
His calm tone was anything but humble.
Old Jaque and Celia looked at each other in silence. They had met plenty of arrogant people in their lives—but something about John's brand of arrogance made them want to slap him on sight.
The worst part?
They couldn't even argue with him.
Despite their own pedigrees—Celia a famed Class Conductor, and Old Jaque a battle-hardened veteran of the continent—John's rapid transformation rendered their past glories almost laughable in comparison.
That helpless frustration burned quietly in their hearts.
"…John," Old Jaque said at last, letting out a slow sigh, "you really are remarkable. But unfortunately, your timing couldn't be worse. The Nascent Duchy's army is closing in on the city."
John's smile instantly vanished.
Becoming a Silver Rank Swordman had been a long-awaited dream—sweet and empowering. He had envisioned himself slapping those who mocked him right across the face with his newfound strength.
But now?
Now, the name Nascent Duchy had doused all that excitement like a bucket of cold water.
Ever since he and his parents had arrived in this world, that name had loomed large. Each year, without fail, tales of border conflicts between the Nascent Duchy and the Macedonian Kingdom echoed through the cities—particularly in spring and autumn.
And every one of those battles had been brutal.
The Nascent Duchy's warriors were infamous for their ferocity. While the Macedonian Kingdom often suffered heavier losses, the conflict had always remained contained near the border.
That's what made John's shock all the more real.
"Wait—are you serious?" he asked, incredulous. "The Duchy's forces actually threaten us? But Winterhold isn't even that close to the front lines! There are dozens of towns and cities between us and the border!"
"This fast? That doesn't make any sense!"
He was skeptical, yes—but he also knew Old Jaque wouldn't lie about something like this. When it mattered, the old man was always dependable.
"I've already heard the rumors going around town," Celia added with a nod. "It's probably true."
Her voice was calm, but there was a subtle tightness behind it.
She hadn't grown attached to this place. Her plan was always to leave once her injuries healed. She just hadn't expected to part ways with John so soon.
Old Jaque looked around the courtyard—his expression soft, almost nostalgic.
"I suppose it's time to pack up," he muttered.
Ever since retiring here, he had lived like a simple merchant, enjoying a peaceful life. Had it not been for this sudden chaos, he might have spent the rest of his days here in quiet obscurity.
But now… all of it was about to end.