Translator: CinderTL
Cracked Rock Pass, true to its name, appeared as a natural mountain pass formed by a colossal axe splitting two steep ridges.
This was the final crucial gateway to the fertile heartland of the Golden Valley Kingdom in the Eastern Lands, a strategically vital location renowned for its formidable defenses and near-impregnable position.
In stark contrast to the poorly guarded outposts along the eastern frontier, the pass now bristled with banners and was densely packed with heavily armored soldiers, their weapons gleaming under the sun, radiating an oppressive, murderous aura.
Even more unsettling was the palpable transcendent energy emanating from within the pass, indicating the presence of a substantial number of professionals stationed there.
On the flat terrain a short distance from the pass stood another massive military encampment, belonging to the allied forces of Gloria and Duke.
The two camps faced each other across the open ground, maintaining a fragile, storm-before-the-storm calm.
Inside his tent, Roland sat in quiet meditation, practicing his breathing technique.
His chest rose and fell rhythmically, his breaths long and deep, his aura utterly at odds with the oppressive atmosphere of the distant pass.
After an indeterminate length of time, he slowly opened his eyes.
Deep within his pupils, a fleeting golden vertical slit flickered before vanishing, leaving behind only his usual profound gaze.
Roland exhaled a long, turbid breath, carefully sensing the changes within his body.
The power receded like a tide, settling deep within his limbs and bones, leaving behind a palpable sense of growth.
"The battle with Arno wasn't entirely without its benefits," he calmly assessed.
The direct clash with abyssal power had drastically stimulated his body's vitality, accelerating the progress of his Nameless Breathing Technique. He now stood on the threshold of the sixth tier, feeling a new barrier of power just ahead, ready to be breached.
Simultaneously, he had devoted considerable effort to mastering Dragon Breath, the core skill granted by his dragonborn class.
The fully integrated dragon bloodline within him granted him astonishing affinity, allowing him to learn this skill far faster than ordinary individuals.
With focused will, he could immediately sense a scorching, violent energy surging through his throat and deep within his chest, like a dormant ember suddenly ignited.
Of course, his control over this destructive force remained clumsy, far from the effortless mastery he sought.
But at least he had learned to guide it in its nascent form.
His objective for this journey was clear, even desperate:
He must completely eradicate the abyssal demon parasitizing Duke Arno's body.
According to ancient texts written in forgotten languages, a demon's power diminishes significantly when it leaves the abyss, even if it possesses a host in the Material World as a spirit body. Moreover, returning to its lair becomes difficult in the short term.
Though Roland didn't know the demon's exact motives, this was undoubtedly his best—and perhaps only—opportunity.
Yet Roland remained vigilant.
A being capable of inflicting curses with a mere glance demanded the utmost caution.
Against such an enemy, even the slightest increase in strength could prove crucial.
"My breathing technique and dragon breath practice have reached their current limits," Roland rationally assessed his situation.
"To further enhance my power quickly, it seems I have no choice but to rely on this."
With that thought, Roland retrieved the scroll Graham had given him from his pouch—the second half of the Nameless Breathing Technique.
It contained a secret art for unlocking the full potential of his Dragon Blood.
Roland had deliberately avoided studying this bloodline secret art until now, driven by extreme caution.
Although he had successfully awakened his dragon bloodline using a specially prepared potion, avoiding the fatal risks of assimilation or backlash, this newfound, formidable power still felt like a wild, untamed horse.
He could command them, but he was far from achieving perfect control, where they would respond as effortlessly as his own limbs.
The secret art Graham had gifted him operated on the principle of violently stimulating the latent potential deep within his bloodline through a specialized method, granting a temporary surge in power.
While its effects were undeniably potent, the price...
Roland's mind conjured Graham's weathered face.
His resolute features were etched with deep wrinkles, and his once-signature hair had long since turned gray.
Each activation of the secret art seemed to accelerate the depletion of his life essence, leaving irreversible marks.
The mere thought of such a fate sent a chill down Roland's spine.
If even a powerhouse like Graham, whose strength was unfathomable, struggled to fully resist the secret art's backlash, what chance did Roland, in his current state, stand?
He refused to recklessly court such peril without thorough preparation.
Yet, times had changed.
The crucible of recent battles, coupled with his mastery of Dragon Breath, had propelled his understanding and control of his bloodline to a new level.
In essence, Roland's bloodline now aligned more closely with that of a true dragon than with pure humanity.
This fundamental transformation was precisely the key to safely mastering the secret art.
"Now that my bloodline has been purified, the backlash from cultivating this Dragon Blood secret art should be significantly reduced," Roland reasoned calmly, his gaze hardening with resolve. He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking inward.
First, he activated the secret art of the Veil of Shadows.
The vibrant energy around him seemed to be shrouded by an invisible twilight, rapidly condensing and stilling until it merged seamlessly with the shadows within the tent, leaving no trace of its presence.
Only after confirming his aura was completely concealed did he fully focus his mind on the contents of the ancient scroll.
The secret art began by guiding the dormant Dragon Blood within his body along an unprecedentedly complex path.
This path didn't follow the conventional meridians of the human body; instead, it resembled the coiled silhouette of a colossal dragon, with the heart as its source, the spine as its central pillar, and the limbs as its extensions.
Roland took a deep breath and attempted to drive the scorching, immense power deep within his bloodline with his will.
Initially, the blood flowed like a docile stream, accelerating in response to his command.
But as it reached the new, more aggressive, and violent path, the resistance surged abruptly.
"Ugh..."
On his first attempt, the bloodline power surged toward his shoulder blades but crashed into an invisible barrier, violently dissipating under the intense shock.
The backlash left his chest heavy, a metallic sweetness rising in his throat.
Failure.
This secret art demanded far greater purity of bloodline and control over his power than he had anticipated.
Instead of panicking, he closed his eyes, regulated his breathing, and meticulously replayed the sensations of that failed moment.
The barrier wasn't entirely external; it stemmed more from his own insufficient mastery over the power and the untamed wildness still lurking within his bloodline.
After a moment, he began his second attempt.
This time, he proceeded with extreme caution, his will acting like the finest engraving chisel, guiding the surging torrent bit by bit rather than forcing it.
Yet the Dragon Blood's power proved too ferocious. As it passed several critical nodes, it once again spiraled out of control.
The scorching energy, like a wild horse freed from its reins, rampaged through his body. An unnatural flush spread across his skin, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.
Forcibly suppressing his churning qi and blood, he halted the cultivation once more.
The tent was deathly silent, save for Roland's own heavy breathing.
He realized that relying solely on precise control seemed insufficient to fully harness this primal power belonging to the dragons.
This secret art required not just "guidance," but also "resonance" and "command."
He recalled the sensation of awakening his bloodline, the feeling of guiding dragon breath—a will that transcended mere strength, as if his very being were a higher-level existence.
For the third attempt, Roland changed his strategy.
He abandoned micro-managing every fraction of power and instead elevated his consciousness to a more macroscopic level.
He visualized himself transforming into a true dragon, soaring through the heavens and surveying the earth below. His will was now the dragon's will.
His bloodline should obey this supreme command.
This time, when his will once again drove the Dragon Blood, the scorching power remained ferocious but showed far less of its previous resistance and stagnation.
As if recognizing this authoritative will originating from the depths of his soul, the power began to surge along the scroll's intricate pathways, truly flowing as intended.
Boom!
Like a dam bursting, a surging force instantly breached the previously blocked nodes, surging up his spine to the crown of his skull before cascading down like a waterfall, washing through his limbs and every bone in his body.
An unprecedented sense of power flooded every cell, his strength growing and transforming at a frenzied pace.
Clenching his jaw, he fought to maintain clarity of consciousness, guiding this torrent to complete its final circuit.
When the power finally returned to his heart along its intricate path, forming a perfect closed loop...
Buzz!
A deep, resonant hum, as if echoing from the primordial chaos of ancient times, reverberated from within him.
Roland's aura erupted violently, the air in the tent thickening and scorching.
He snapped his eyes open.
His pupils had completely transformed into cold, vertical slits like molten gold, devoid of any human emotion—only pure majesty and power remained.
He lowered his gaze to his hands. Fine, hard scales with a dark metallic sheen were silently emerging across the backs of his hands and forearms.
His nails had sharpened into curved, gleaming claws.
An indescribable, predatory aura—the oppressive presence of an apex predator—began to emanate uncontrollably from his body.
But this was not the end.
The dragon transformation had begun.
(End of the Chapter)
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