Translator: CinderTL
When Roland slowly opened his eyes, he was met with an all-consuming darkness, boundless and suffocating.
"Where am I?"
"What... what just happened?"
"Wait... who... who am I?"
He took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the panic rising within him, and gently massaged the throbbing between his eyebrows.
Fragments of memories slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, no matter how desperately he tried to grasp at any clue about himself.
The darkness was like congealed ink, so thick that the boundaries between time and space blurred. His consciousness sank deeper into this chaos, as if it were about to be swallowed whole.
Just as Roland was about to give up, his eyelids heavy and drooping, an ethereal voice suddenly echoed in his ear.
"You've come again."
He jerked his head up, and in the darkness, a pair of slender, jade-like hands mysteriously materialized. The arms were as pale as snow, almost transparent, radiating a faint, ethereal glow in the darkness.
"So eager to see me?"
As the soft words lingered, a hazy figure gradually emerged from behind the arms.
Though shrouded in darkness, the graceful curves of her silhouette unmistakably belonged to a woman.
"Who... are you?"
As if drawn by an invisible force, Roland involuntarily reached out his hand.
"Alas... it's not yet time."
Just as his fingertips were about to touch her, her icy palm landed on his shoulder first.
"However... given your devotion, hehe..."
A silvery laugh rippled through the darkness. In the next instant, a sudden force shoved him violently backward.
"Return. Return to where you belong."
A sensation of weightlessness surged through him as Roland's body tilted backward, plunging into the endless abyss of darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, the familiar battlefield scene swam back into view.
The demonic beast's blood still flowed in rivulets across the ground, not yet fully congealed.
"Roland! Roland!"
A gruff voice boomed in his ears like thunder, instantly shattering the chaotic fog in his mind.
Fragments of memory surged back like a tidal wave:
Transmigration, blacksmith apprentice, demonic beast attack, extraordinary power, Far Ocean Port, Mist Creek Town...
Finally, all the images froze on those terrifying golden vertical pupils.
"The dragon... Rudolph... the golden liquid... I remember now!"
Roland gasped sharply, like a drowning man finally surfacing for air.
Cold sweat streamed down his forehead, soaking his collar.
His dazed and disoriented state clearly frightened Sean, his loyal friend, who gripped Roland's shoulders tightly and shook him frantically.
"Roland! Roland! Can you hear me?"
"Stop! Stop shaking me!"
Roland felt like his bones were about to rattle apart and quickly wrenched himself free from Sean's grasp.
"I'm fine, Sean. What about the dragon?"
"I'm not sure."
As if recalling the awe-inspiring scene, Sean's usually dark face paled slightly.
"What about Lord Beckham?" Roland pressed.
"He didn't go..."
Following Roland's gaze, Sean turned to look, his pupils contracting sharply.
"Lord Beckham!" he cried out, immediately sprinting forward.
"Someone come quick! Lord Beckham is seriously injured and unconscious!"
At his shout, the gradually awakening soldiers gathered around, urgently tending to the unconscious Beckham.
Roland stood rooted to the spot, his brow furrowed as he surveyed the scene.
The mangled remains of the demonic beast, massive claw marks gouged into the ground, and Beckham lying nearby, drenched in blood and teetering on the brink of life and death—all silently proclaimed:
What had just transpired was no illusion!
Recalling the agonizing, searing pain that had nearly torn him apart, Roland moved his body to confirm there were no lingering effects. Satisfied, he immediately opened his Job Panel for a thorough examination.
"This is..."
His brow deepened as his gaze locked onto two anomalous changes on the panel.
First, the race field, which had always displayed "Human," now read "Human, Dragon?"
Even more astonishing was the traits section. A brand-new trait had appeared at the top:
Shar's Favor
Shar's Favor: You have earned the favor of Shar, Goddess of Death. Whether this honor will prove a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.
Unlike the detailed descriptions of other traits, this passage offered no specific effects and even carried a hint of mockery in its wording.
"What exactly happened?"
Roland strained to recall his recent experiences, but his memory only lingered on that golden droplet.
When he regained consciousness, all he could hear was Sean's shouting.
"Where did the middle part of my memory go? Never mind, I'll study it later when we're safe."
Remembering the dragon he had just encountered, Roland dared not delay. He immediately signaled Sean and the soldiers to prepare for withdrawal.
Just as he swung himself onto his horse, a familiar sensation suddenly washed over him.
He whipped around to see dense cracks spreading wildly across the ground.
But unlike before, these fissures were no longer purely black, death-infused lines. Instead, they were interwoven with strange, multicolored patterns.
Each pattern radiated a distinct aura:
Burning heat, razor-sharp edges, surging energy, crushing weight.
"This is... Magic Element!"
Roland stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding before him.
The patterns rapidly spread across the earth, drawing together dense, almost tangible Magic Elements of various colors. In the distance, these elements surged skyward in a towering pillar of energy.
In that instant, accompanied by a faint, ethereal roar, the clouds churned violently, and lightning flashed across the sky.
The once-clear sky was instantly swallowed by boundless dark clouds, followed by a torrential downpour.
The moment the rain struck the ground, the frantically spreading patterns vanished without a trace.
Yet the concentration of Magic Elements in the air surged dramatically.
"This is..."
Roland focused his mind and activated the spell patterns on his skeletal remains.
Unlike the sluggish flow of magic he usually experienced, the Magic Elements now seemed alive, surging eagerly into the spell patterns.
Thanks to his affinity for the fire element, he could even hear the fire element's joyful "whispers."
This was a stark contrast to his previous perception, which had felt as if he were sensing the elements through a thick, impenetrable barrier.
"The rate at which Magic Elements are reviving has accelerated."
Realizing this, Roland peered through the torrential rain toward the distant forest.
Through the downpour, he could make out countless shadowy figures moving among the trees—the silhouettes of demonic beasts, flickering in and out of sight.
Instead of mourning their fallen comrades, the demonic beasts raised their weapons, tilted their heads back to greet the strange rain, and erupted into cheers.
Even more unsettling, some of the demonic beasts were undergoing visible transformations in the rain.
"Roland!" Sean's shout echoed from afar. "Scouts have spotted demonic beasts gathering nearby! We must evacuate immediately!"
Roland cast one last deep look at the demonic beast horde before turning his horse and following the retreating troops.
Thanks to Beckham's earlier protective measures, Mist Creek Town had narrowly avoided the demonic beast assault.
However, the earth-shattering tremors had still caused significant damage to the well-equipped town.
Worse, all the residents had fallen into varying degrees of unconsciousness due to the eerie sound.
As Roland surveyed the scene, a chilling hypothesis began to form in his mind.
"The strange sound we heard before the earthquake... it was likely the roar of a dragon. And the reason I didn't lose consciousness is probably thanks to my Steel Will."
Beckham soon regained consciousness.
Though the Transcendent Knight had missed Roland's conversation with the dragon, he still retained memories of the colossal beast.
He immediately dispatched messengers to the capital, requesting reinforcements, while urgently mobilizing his troops to prepare for a potential demonic beast attack.
However, the anticipated assault never materialized, and the dragon vanished as if it had evaporated into thin air.
Only the torrential downpour persisted, showing no signs of abating.
Seeing this, Roland dared not delay. After a hasty farewell to Sean and the others, he spurred his horse into a sprint toward the manor.
Watching his dearest friend disappear into the rain-soaked horizon, Sean took a deep breath and turned to stride purposefully toward the military camp.
"Lord Beckham!"
"What is it, Sean?"
"I want to..."
Recalling Roland's solitary confrontation with the dragon, the simple and honest young man's eyes lost their lingering confusion, and he declared with newfound resolve:
"I want to follow your earlier suggestion and serve on the border!"
The encounter had left its mark on more than just Sean.
At the Forest's Breath tavern, Theresa unconsciously stabbed at the steak on her plate with her fork.
Earth-shattering tremors, unconsciousness, a mountain-sized creature, and...
The figure standing alone against the dragon.
As she thought of this, ripples spread across her sea-blue eyes, and a curious light flickered within them.
"Mr. Peyton."
Peyton, who was busy repairing the damaged gate, turned to see Theresa's untouched steak on her plate.
"What's wrong, Theresa? Relax. You're Roland's friend. Gary won't mind a few meals!"
"It's not that."
Theresa gently shook her head, her silver hair swaying with the movement.
"I wanted to ask... where did Mr. Roland go?"
"Didn't he tell you?"
Peyton wiped sweat from his brow, looking puzzled. After a moment, he said, "I think he mentioned going to the River Domain Nations? That's no place for the faint of heart. The kid's bound to have a rough time there."
"River Domain Nations?" Theresa murmured, a strange glint appearing in her eyes.
Clop! Clop! Clop!
The muffled sound of hooves striking muddy ground echoed as Roland hurried toward the manor gate. He nodded briefly to John, the gatekeeper, before striding toward the wooden cabin.
Bang!
The door swung open, revealing Bronson's grave expression.
"Roland! You're finally back!"
The scholar hurried forward and gripped Roland's shoulders tightly with both hands.
"The Magic Element in the surrounding areas has been fluctuating these past few days."
"I already know, Mr. Bronson," Roland interrupted, noticing the confusion in the scholar's eyes. Lowering his voice, he added, "Now isn't the time for explanations. Is your luggage ready?"
"Of course. So we..."
"Proceed according to the original plan."
Roland took a deep breath, the strange phenomena in Mist Creek Town flashing through his mind.
The accelerated revival of the Magic Element meant the chaotic era they had predicted would arrive sooner than expected.
In this impending turmoil, only strength would guarantee survival.
As he thought this, his gaze involuntarily drifted northeastward, toward the River Domain Nations.
I must reach the River Domain Nations as soon as possible to acquire the Knight's Breathing Technique.
Having made his decision, Roland fixed his gaze on the scholar, who was fully equipped and ready to depart. His voice was low and grave.
"Mr. Bronson, our earlier predictions may be coming true. The era of the Magic Element's full revival... it may be upon us."
"Indeed," Bronson murmured, shaking his head slightly. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I just didn't expect it to arrive so soon."
The wooden cabin fell into a brief silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing mingling in the fading twilight.
The setting sun cast its final rays through the window, stretching their shadows long and slender across the mottled wooden floor, where they gradually blurred into the deepening gloom.
(End of the Chapter)
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