When Caro saw the words "Impact Resistance Lv.1," she froze.

When had she ever learned this skill…? Asking that now would just make her look foolish. After all, she’d endured a powerful impact yesterday—and that Dragon Slayer had mentioned Bards naturally possessed some resistance to it.

So… had her Bard abilities awakened under that shock? In this world, skills had to be learned. Life skills aside, cross-class learning was impossible.

Take warriors or swordsmen, for example. Combat professions wielded "battle aura"; mages used "mana"; clerics channeled "divine power." But a Bard’s power was more elusive. The very charm of the class lay in how hard it was to quantify.

Say Caro meticulously verified a Dragon Slayer’s full story—she might summon that hero’s projection. Its strength depended entirely on how widely *her* version spread. In a sense, Bards fought a fiercer battle than anyone.

After all… people usually accepted only one version of a story.

Sometimes a Bard didn’t even know how far their tale had traveled or how strong they truly were. Of course, that was just one school of Bardic practice.

Bards had another path: "Melodic Force." Simply put, they buffed the party through music—a… lesser substitute for a cleric. But this style had one advantage: buffs lasted as long as the Bard had "stamina," as long as they could keep playing.

Melodic Force *was* stamina. Unlike clerics, whose divine power left them helpless once drained—stamina? Even when your fingers felt numb, you could grit your teeth… and squeeze out a little more.

Bards weren’t locked into one path. Take warriors: Arnold wielded a greatsword and mastered its techniques, but that didn’t stop him from using a regular sword too. They could be combined. Still, a Bard’s combat power was unstable. Their buffs weren’t as strong as a cleric’s—so adventuring parties rarely included Bards. Most preferred clerics.

Shaking off these useless thoughts, Caro finally struggled to hoist her harp. Honestly, it felt like fifty-five pounds.

Well… not so heavy she couldn’t carry it. She weighed more than that herself. Carrying something lighter than her body wasn’t *that* hard.

But walking far with it…? Who knew being a Bard was such a physical job~?

Based on Caro’s utterly baseless guess: if she just kept walking with it, maybe she’d unlock a skill like Arnold’s—one to shrink her "weapon."

She wished. But after a hundred meters, she gave up. Frustrated, she kicked the harp—then instantly regretted it, tenderly wiping the spot with her dress hem. Thankfully, the skirt was long enough.

Now she was truly stuck. Such a huge instrument—even a carriage might charge extra, like it was another passenger. Before this world, she’d never worried about money. But after two years of hardship here…

She’d at least learned money mattered—even if she didn’t personally care. Now, planning to travel… what to do?

She barely knew how to play the harp.

Wait… sell it? Heaven gave her this beautiful maiden-like body—aside from her slightly flat chest—surely it was meant to… monetize first, right?

Leaning against a tree, she decided to nap. Unemployed: orphanage graduate, chose a profession, now… unemployed again? Wait. This felt strangely familiar.

She resolved: after waking, sell the harp cheap. Get something smaller—an accordion! Wait… could she dismantle the strings and craft a handmade guitar? Just a wooden board, some strings, a tuning peg… Shape didn’t matter. As long as it made sound. Worst case? Become the "Whistling Bard."

Sunlight filtered through leaves, dappling her face with irregular warmth. Her consciousness grew heavy… Time flowed. So peaceful~

"BANG!!!!"

A familiar impact.

Caro’s eyes snapped open. She ducked behind her harp, scanning warily. Hmm… Impact Resistance Lv.1 wasn’t so bad after all.

There he was—the familiar figure. The Dragon Slayer… no, the False Hero: Arnold.

Their eyes met for a split second… then a faint smile curled his lips.

Next instant—he was behind her. Cold metal pressed her neck. She felt sharpness… Caro didn’t dare move.

Arnold whispered lowly, "For the crystal I gave you… cooperate. Cry. Scream. You know what I mean?"

How could she refuse with a knife at her throat?

Caro cleared her throat lightly, squeezed her voice into a falsetto: "Eeep~~~!!! Nooo~~~! Someone save me~~~!" She squeezed two tears from her eyes. "Waaah~~ I don’t want to die~~ Spare me~ Please~ Lord Arnold~ Anything~ Just spare me~"

Arnold’s lips twitched. *Act*, he’d said—not *this* much… Was this how all Bards were? Or just her?

"Stop, Arnold! Will you torment an innocent maiden?!" A righteous shout cut through the air.

A girl emerged, her armor straining over a well-developed figure. She held a lavishly decorated longsword, pointing it squarely at Arnold.

Ten seconds later, more armored youths appeared behind her. Caro instantly realized: the Knight Order!

She’d heard recruitment was strict; members couldn’t be adventurers—but they could rise to nobility… Judging by their speed, this girl was likely the strongest.

"Torment?" Even with his back turned, Caro could *feel* Arnold’s wicked smirk. "You mean… *this* maiden?"

The blade shifted… Hey, bastard—you’re not actually cutting me, are you?

Fear spiked. Was that blood on her neck? Had her skin split? She tried to cry: "Help—"

Arnold clamped a hand over her mouth. "A well-behaved girl doesn’t shout~" he murmured, even nipping her earlobe.

Intimate? No. She’d met a pervert. To think she once believed him kind—damn, he was a real bastard!

Genuine tears welled.

"Arnold!" the knight girl roared. "Release her! Cease adding to your sins!"

Arnold glanced up. "I don’t know you. But with your strength… your Order’s strength… do you truly think you can kill me? Could you slay a dragon?"

"…"

Silence. Everyone knew the answer.

"Hahahaha!!!" Arnold laughed—a perfectly villainous cackle under the trees (thankfully not *kekeke*).

He finally lowered the knife. "I know who you’re waiting for. The Sword Saint, right?"

The knights’ faces shifted—seriously, your discipline is lacking. Showing that only helps the villain… (Though as a hostage, she had no standing to comment.)

"So I guessed right," Arnold chuckled. "But are you *certain* your Sword Saint can beat me? If the Chosen Hero had awakened in your land, I’d step back. But just the Sword Saint…? Do you want total annihilation?"

So full of himself!

Still… a Dragon Slayer had the right to boast.

"Even so! We will never let you go!"

Your resolve is admirable, miss—but could you *please* negotiate my rescue first? I’m genuinely panicking~

Her legs trembled. She wanted calm, but the air screamed *battle*. One stray slash… and she’d be gone.

Then she saw it.

A skill? Sword qi?

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

Caro screamed louder than ever—louder than falling off a cliff. She was *certain* that blade of energy would slice her in half.

Arnold drew his sword.

He cleaved the distant attack mid-flight.

"You call *me* the villain?" Arnold’s expression darkened. "Yet the great Sword Saint would sacrifice a hostage to kill me?"

A silver-haired woman appeared silently. "If one civilian’s death eliminates a threat like you… it is her honor. It would save many."

*The hell you say!* Caro’s blood boiled.

"Worthy of the Sword Saint," Arnold said calmly. "Then… what if your entire Knight Order joins the equation? Killing them all while fighting you… wouldn’t be hard. You know that."

"…It would still be worth it."

Arnold released Caro and kicked her down—but she felt no pain.

"Boring. Fighting you means nothing. Give me money. I leave."

The knight girl roared, "You insolent fool!"

"Give it," the Sword Saint commanded.

Reluctantly, the girl placed a hefty sum on the ground.

A gust of wind swept past. Arnold—and the money—vanished.