Translator: CinderTL
As Roland watched the shadowy figures emerge from the mist and drift through the air, he instantly recognized their nature.
Wraiths, or rather, wraiths.
He had learned a little about these creatures from commissions at the Adventurer's Guild.
Their forms were indistinct and ever-shifting, radiating a bone-chilling cold.
But the most crucial fact was...
Ordinary swords and blades could not inflict any real harm upon them.
This was precisely why, when Roland was clearing out demonic beasts to qualify as an Apprentice Knight, he had deliberately avoided all commissions involving wraiths.
After all, compared to these spirit-bodied creatures, dealing with serpentmen or lizardmen was clearly far more manageable.
"These villagers... they're as hospitable as ever..."
After straining his eyes to discern a few familiar faces within the deep shadows, Roland murmured a sigh. Without hesitation, he extended his hand forward, fingers splayed wide.
"Tracy!"
The call dispelled the fear gripping the pixie's heart.
Understanding Roland's intent, Tracy immediately responded.
In the next instant, a faint, ethereal glow radiated outward from her petite form.
Sensing the previously stagnant magic elements around them begin to stir, Roland unleashed his full power without reservation.
In the frigid air, scorching energy suddenly converged in his outstretched palm.
A blazing, orange-red fireball materialized out of thin air, radiating an astonishing heatwave that instantly banished the surrounding chill. The mist glowed crimson, and the drifting wraiths shrieked silently in terror.
Roland's sharp gaze locked onto the nearest charging pale shadow.
The once-good-natured face of blacksmith Barton was now twisted into a venomous specter.
Without hesitation, Roland flicked his wrist sharply.
"Go!"
The compressed fireball transformed into a blinding streak of light, tearing through the mist and exploding violently before the wraiths.
There was no physical impact, only the hissing, crackling sound of flames clashing violently with spirit bodies.
Boom!
A blinding light instantly engulfed the pale, spectral figures. They didn't even manage a proper wail before the pure fire element incinerated them, causing them to writhe violently, disintegrate into wisps of blue smoke and sparks, and vanish completely into the icy air.
The entire process was as swift as lightning, clean and efficient.
In an instant, only lingering sparks drifted slowly through the air, briefly illuminating small patches of the dense fog and revealing Roland's serene, water-like expression.
As the frigid sea wind swept through, the air above the Wraiths' annihilation site began to distort violently.
Then, clusters of luminous, deep-blue light began to coalesce.
This wasn't a single entity, but rather a collection of over a dozen minuscule, flickering lights.
Extending his mental power, Roland discovered that each of these deep-blue lights carried the most intense emotional imprints from the Wraiths' souls.
A tiny, constantly hammering anvil phantom.
A strand of gently coiling, luminous thread.
A simple grass ring, shimmering with unwavering determination.
A curled infant silhouette radiated a warm, sorrowful aura of protection.
"This is..."
Roland frowned slightly as he gazed at the ethereal blue halo suspended in mid-air, woven from countless fragments of emotion.
"The effect of the 'Plunder' trait?"
In that brief moment, the halo coalesced into a solid cluster of light.
A distinct energy pulse emanated from it.
This pulse...
Roland's senses were instantly triggered.
"An energy pulse originating from the same source as mind flayer blood?"
Before Roland could unravel the mystery, a sudden transformation occurred.
As if drawn by an irresistible force, the suspended, solidified cluster of light abruptly transformed into a stream of ethereal blue light. Moving at a speed far exceeding Roland's reaction time, it shot directly toward the leather pouch at his waist.
"What?"
Roland's eyes narrowed, and his hand instinctively pressed against the pouch, only to feel a slight tremor.
The stream of light had effortlessly pierced the pouch's barrier, precisely entering the vial containing the mind flayer blood.
The entire process unfolded in the blink of an eye.
Without hesitation, Roland immediately drew the alchemy bottle from his pouch and held it up for inspection.
The once viscous, nearly stagnant, purplish-black blood now stirred like a creature awakening from slumber, slowly writhing and churning within the glass.
The icy, slick waves of psionic energy pollution had also intensified, becoming more distinct and active, surging silently like a tide within the bottle.
This sudden transformation filled Roland with suspicion, but he knew this was no time for investigation.
The malevolent presence lurking in the village's dense fog had grown increasingly agitated after the recent battle, its icy killing intent piercing through the air like tangible needles from all directions.
Staying here would only drag him deeper into this quagmire.
Without a moment's hesitation, Roland returned the bottle containing the mind flayer's blood to his pouch, then turned decisively, his steps steady yet swift as he retreated toward the coastline from which he had come.
Tracy clung tightly to his shoulder armor, her small wings trembling with unease.
The cold, damp sea wind rushed toward him, carrying its familiar salty, fishy tang.
The silhouette of the small boat he had arrived in flickered in the thin mist.
Just as he stepped onto the wet sand, only a dozen paces from the shore, his Hydrological Intuition suddenly activated.
This was no gentle ripple marking a fishing spot, as usual.
Beneath the seemingly calm, dark water, countless crimson dots instantly materialized, sending a chill down his spine.
Wave-like markers representing "fish-like creatures" swarmed the surrounding dozens of meters of sea like boiling bubbles of blood, layered upon each other in staggering numbers.
They remained motionless, radiating a cold, frenzied hunting aura, like an invisible giant net that had been waiting here for a long time.
"An ambush underwater!"
Alarm bells blared in Roland's mind as he froze in his tracks, every muscle tensing instantly.
The next moment...
Splash!
The tranquil sea surface erupted violently, as if a giant stone had been hurled into it.
A dozen towering, dark green-scaled figures erupted from the waves, their nauseating stench of fish and blood crashing heavily onto the shallows. Murky water and sand sprayed as they instantly surrounded Roland.
"Warsaw Fishmen?"
Seeing this, Roland decisively drew the Mithril Longsword from his waist, his eyes narrowing slightly.
The Warsaw Fishmen hunched forward, their powerful torsos bent low. Webbed claws gripped rusty tridents or bone blades, their slimy scales reflecting a greasy sheen in the dim light.
But what truly chilled the heart were their eyes.
Not the typical murky yellow or cunning emerald green of ordinary fishmen.
Each pair burned with a pure, frenzied, irrational crimson light.
Their pupils had shrunk to pinpricks, the whites of their eyes completely stained red, seething with nothing but primal bloodlust and destructive urges.
They were identical to the Warsaw Fishmen Roland had encountered at sea when he left Far Ocean Port to travel to the River Domain Nations.
(End of the Chapter)
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