Translator: CinderTL
Roland's heart tightened.
A presence that could evade conventional perception at this distance and trigger the Solitary Bastion...
Without hesitation, he instinctively lowered his center of gravity, his feet feeling as if invisible roots had anchored him firmly to the ground.
His sword hand subtly adjusted its grip, appearing relaxed yet coiled with strength like a fully drawn bowstring, ready to strike.
"Who's there?"
The moment the words left his lips, the shadow marked by the Solitary Bastion rippled violently, like water disturbed by a thrown stone.
A figure materialized abruptly from the empty space, as if he had always been part of the shadow, merely revealing his physical form now.
It was Jashu, the assassin.
He still wore his pitch-black leather armor, which seemed to devour light. The half of his face visible beneath the hood appeared unnaturally pale in the cold moonlight.
His injured arm was tightly bandaged, yet a faint metallic scent of blood still lingered in the air.
Those habitually indifferent eyes narrowed for a rare moment, their sharp gaze piercing Roland like tangible daggers, filled with pure, undisguised astonishment.
"Distance... more than five steps..."
Jashu silently repeated the number in his mind, as if a giant stone had been hurled into the icy lake of his heart.
This was the perfect distance for his Shadow Step.
Theoretically, at this range, he should be undetectable unless actively sought out by a master of divination or a transcendent with a specialized sensory domain.
Yet...
Jashu stared intently at Roland, as if seeing him for the first time.
To his senses, the young man's aura remained unremarkable—slightly stronger than an ordinary extraordinary, but only marginally so.
Yet this seemingly "weak" individual had precisely pinpointed his location.
A feat that even Graham might struggle to accomplish.
In mere moments, the astonishment in Jashu's eyes receded like a receding tide, replaced by his usual deep, unfathomable indifference.
But his gaze toward Roland had fundamentally changed.
It was now a scrutinizing, evaluative gaze—one that instantly elevated Roland from "a promising talent worth monitoring" to "a critical threat whose danger and value must be reassessed."
Could it be... that the one who unleashed that devastating spell atop the High Tower... was actually this boy?
"Lord Jiaxiu?"
Roland's voice cut through the assassin's turbulent thoughts.
Jashu exhaled almost imperceptibly and spoke slowly.
"Where is Dean Graham?"
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Before Roland could answer, a heavy coughing fit tore through the silence, accompanied by the Knight Academy Dean's hoarse voice.
"I'm here, Jashu."
Hearing the summons, the assassin finally shifted his scrutinizing gaze from Roland.
"Please... remain vigilant."
Noticing a hint of uncharacteristic warmth in his usually stern tone, Roland's eyebrows rose slightly.
"As you command."
Jashu nodded curtly and strode directly toward Graham.
Due to the distance and dim lighting, Jashu hadn't been able to clearly assess Graham's condition earlier.
Only when they stood face-to-face did the assassin fully grasp the Knight Academy Dean's appearance. He gasped softly and hurried forward.
"Dean Graham, what happened to you...?"
"A minor matter. A bit of rest will restore me. But you..."
Graham forced a weak smile, his face etched with exhaustion. He waved a dismissive hand and abruptly changed the subject.
"Why are you here so urgently? Is something urgent?"
Sensing Graham's reluctance to discuss his injuries, Jashu wisely refrained from pressing the matter. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke slowly.
"Lord Derek wishes you to return to the capital as soon as possible."
"Hmm?"
Graham's brow furrowed deeply at the news.
Graham knew his old friend's character all too well.
Compared to Masdon, the impetuous leader of the Noble Faction, Derek, the head of the Merchant Faction, was always deeply calculating, never revealing his true emotions.
Even in the face of catastrophic events, Derek maintained an air of calm composure.
But this time...
Seeing the solemn expression in Jashu's eyes, Graham gripped the hilt of his sword, using its nearly broken blade to support himself as he struggled to his feet. His voice low and strained, he asked, "What's happened?"
Jashu glanced around to confirm that Avril and the others were asleep before signaling Graham to follow him to a secluded corner. Lowering his voice, he said, "According to reliable intelligence, the orcs to the north have launched another war against the Golden Valley Kingdom."
"This..." A flicker of confusion crossed Graham's eyes. "Such conflicts occur several times a year. What's unusual about this?"
"True," Jashu nodded slightly.
"I'm merely reporting to you on Lord Drake's orders, but this time... it's different."
"They say... the Golden Valley Kingdom has mobilized a massive force, and King Monen himself is leading the troops."
"Leading the campaign personally?"
Graham paused, a slight sigh escaping his lips, his expression tinged with understanding.
"It seems the Old King's health... is truly failing. Does he intend to eradicate the orcish threat to the kingdom before his death? But..."
A complex emotion flickered in his eyes.
"If I recall correctly, the Golden Valley Kingdom's heir remains undecided, doesn't it?"
"That's correct."
"So... even a transcendent of his caliber can't escape worldly concerns after all..." Graham's voice carried a deep sense of resignation.
"Lord Graham, this matter is of little consequence," Jashu interrupted Graham's musings. "Lord Derek urges you to return to the capital because... an important guest has arrived."
"A guest?" Graham's breathing grew labored due to his weakened state.
"What is it? Have those stubborn dwarves finally relented and agreed to our request to purchase mithril?"
"No..."
Jashu took a deep breath before whispering gravely, "It's the High Tower... the wizards. They've come to the River Domain Nations."
"Wizards? By the gods..."
Upon hearing this ancient and ominous title, Graham paused briefly, then let out a soft, bitter laugh.
"It seems the world... is truly about to descend into chaos. The storm is coming..."
He shook his head slightly, the smile vanishing from his face, replaced by an utterly solemn expression.
"Do you know their purpose?"
"Not yet..."
"I see."
Graham clapped the assassin heavily on the shoulder. "Thank you for your hard work, Jashu."
Before the words had fully left his lips, the Knight Academy Dean had straightened his aching body, strode forward, and bellowed, "Roland! Wake your companions!"
"Save your sleep for when we return to the capital!"
(End of the Chapter)
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