Translator: CinderTL
While Roland and Graham were conversing in the training ground, the two wizards they had mentioned were engaged in a secret discussion in their chamber.
"It seems..."
The gaunt old man, clad in a simple robe, stood by the window, gazing down at the bustling crowd below. He spoke slowly, "Otto, the rulers of the River Domain Nations will never relinquish control of that magic well."
"I told you so, Irwin," the young man called Otto said, swirling the wine in his glass and smacking his lips. "No one can resist such pure magic elements. Besides..." A glint flashed in his eyes. "It's likely the core of Demon Capital Gilles. Controlling and studying it means claiming the legacy of an ancient Demon Capital. Tsk tsk... I doubt anyone could resist such temptation."
"You're right..." Irwin sighed softly. "So, what's your next move?"
"Simple. We proceed according to the plan we agreed upon before coming here," Otto said, scratching his unshaven stubble with nonchalance. "Since they're not interested in negotiations, we'll use force to make that mercenary merchant yield."
"Just so we're clear, this thing won't belong to just the two of us. We'll have to share some with the others."
With these few words, they finalized a plan that could ignite a war, their tone as casual as if they were discussing dinner.
As the words faded, Irwin took a sip of his tea and murmured, "Otto, did you notice that young man who entered the room earlier?"
"Of course..." Otto drained the wine from his flask, wiped the dribble from his chin, and spoke with genuine surprise. "A complete novice, untrained in any discipline, yet his mental power is astonishing. If nothing goes wrong, a few years of dedicated meditation practice should easily make him a wizard apprentice."
"Indeed..." Irwin agreed softly, then proposed, "Should we... recruit him to the High Tower? Lady Laura happens to need a Herbalist Apprentice."
"Ha!" Otto scoffed, glancing at his companion. "You have a truly twisted sense of humor. If I recall correctly, Lady Laura has recruited no fewer than fifty Herbalist Apprentices since last year. And what became of them?"
The young wizard's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "They all ended up as fertilizer for her precious plants."
"So what?"
Irwin brushed off Otto's teasing with a matter-of-fact tone.
"For a young man, becoming a wizard is surely more appealing than being a short-lived knight, wouldn't you agree?"
"Suit yourself," Otto replied, stretching languidly against the plush chair. He leaned back, savoring the soft cushioning against his back, and sighed contentedly.
"This country truly lives up to its reputation as a nation built on trade. The opulence here is staggering—a world apart from those rock-hard beds in the High Tower that feel like marble slabs."
"You..." Irwin sighed, shaking his head at the young wizard's indolent demeanor. He turned his gaze back to the bustling street below.
But his eyes drifted out of focus, his mind drifting back to the young man's resolute face.
For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that the mental power surging within that youth was far greater than their observations suggested.
Could it be...
That he was using some secret art to conceal his true aura?
The thought flickered through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
After all...
How could a "layman" who had never undergone mental power training possibly possess such strength?
A brief silence settled over the room.
Soon, the faint sound of snoring filled the air.
Irwin remained standing by the window, his gaze no longer fixed on the street below.
It seemed to pierce through the dense crowds and soar over towering buildings, striking the core zone of the royal capital like an invisible arrow.
"Such pure magic elements... If only I could claim them for myself," he murmured. The lingering glow of dusk, carried by the salty sea breeze, brushed across his face, revealing the undisguised fervor in his eyes.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness began to envelop the land, Roland slowly stepped out of the Knight Academy's gates.
Recalling Graham's evasive gaze and complex tone when discussing the magic well earlier, Roland sensed something amiss, though he had no concrete evidence.
It seemed there was an unspoken conflict between Derek, the Merchant Faction's leader and current power-holder of the River Domain Nations, and Graham.
"Never mind," he thought to himself.
"It seems the River Domain Nations have long been aware of the magic well and have already devised countermeasures. Perhaps..."
Remembering the high elf he had briefly met upon first arriving in the River Domain Nations, Roland let out a long sigh.
"That high elf named Morning Star was specifically invited by Derek to address the magic well issue."
Temporarily suppressing his doubts, Roland began walking home.
Graham's words, entrusting him to lead the delegation to the Golden Valley Kingdom Knight Academy for exchange studies, slowly surfaced in his mind.
I wonder how Darco is doing at the Knight Academy...
The thought of reuniting with his long-lost friend brought a faint smile to Roland's lips.
The journey home was uneventful.
Lying on his soft bed, Roland began planning his next steps.
There's still nearly a month before we leave for the Golden Valley Kingdom.
I need to use this time to master the combat technique "Charge" as quickly as possible. I should also find an excuse to leave the royal capital and find a secluded spot to explore the secrets of the Secret Imprisonment Dice. And...
At this thought, Roland retrieved the ancient parchment scroll from the pouch on his desk and, by the dim candlelight, began studying it again.
When Graham used the secret art, his body transformed. This must be because the dragon bloodline he was "granted" hadn't fully integrated with his own. So... if I successfully fuse the dragon bloodline and become a dragonborn, then use this secret art...
A glint flashed in Roland's eyes.
Could I avoid the transformation and physical damage that Graham suffered?
With this hypothesis in mind, Roland meticulously studied the scroll's contents until drowsiness overcame him, and he drifted into a deep sleep.
The following morning, after making up an excuse to inform Galvis and the others, he rode alone out of the royal capital.
"Alright, alright, Black Wind, I know you're excited..."
As he rode along the forest path, Roland felt the restlessness of his old companion, who hadn't galloped freely in some time. He stroked its glossy mane in exasperation.
After a moment of calming the horse, he squeezed its flanks and urged it into a sprint toward the horizon.
The River Domain Nations were already small in territory, and with vast swamps and wetlands covering much of the land, the areas suitable for human habitation were even more limited.
To fulfill the requirements for becoming an Apprentice Knight, Roland had previously traversed nearly every inch of the kingdom. The mountains, rivers, and terrain were deeply etched in his memory.
After a quick orientation, he set course for an extremely remote location he recalled from his travels.
Upon reaching his destination, Roland cleared out the few demonic beasts lurking there. After carefully surveying the surroundings to ensure his safety, he stepped into a dark, secluded cave.
The next moment, a nauseating stench—a mix of decay and demonic beast excrement—assaulted his nostrils.
He waved his hand futilely, trying to dispel the stench, before retrieving the Secret Imprisonment Dice from his waist pouch.
Click! Click! Click!
With a crisp mechanical click, the Secret Imprisonment Dice sprang open.
The moment it opened, Roland immediately activated the Veil of Shadows, perfectly concealing the escaping energy fluctuations.
Next, he focused his mental power, cautiously probing the interior of the dice.
Hum!
A deep hum resonated as the once-dim runes on the dice's surface suddenly lit up.
The runes began to swirl rapidly, as if coming to life, tracing a dizzyingly complex geometric pattern across the dice's surface.
Then, the space directly in front of the dice abruptly collapsed inward, twisting and distorting.
A narrow spatial rift, its edges crackling with unstable arcs of energy, materialized out of thin air, like a pitch-black scar forcibly torn open.
The rift's interior wasn't pure darkness; instead, it churned with chaotic, iridescent streams of color, like an overturned paint bucket swirling in the void.
The rift rapidly expanded horizontally, flattening into a shimmering curtain roughly the height of a person.
Its surface resembled liquid mercury, yet also resembled a solidified nebula, radiating cold, pure spatial energy fluctuations.
The curtain hung silently in the cave's air, becoming a portal to an unknown realm.
(End of the Chapter)
------------------------------------------------------
🔥 Continue Reading [KNIGHT] on 𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖑.𝖈𝖔𝖒.
👉 Read upto [66] Free Chapters ahead.
🚫 No Login Required!
👑 Members can read upto [194] Chapters ahead.
📊 𝗦𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗦 for 𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝕞
[16] Novels, [11.5K] Chapters, [18.6M] Words
------------------------------------------------------