Translator: CinderTL
The purgatory of lightning unleashed by the [Dragon Breath] displayed a level of destruction that defied its "shrunken" power.
Silver-blue and crimson lightning, like living tentacles of annihilation, whipped and corroded everything they touched. The space where Corellon had been hovering seemed to tear open, revealing a fleeting wound of unstable distortion and pitch-black vacuum.
The ground was no longer merely cracked or scorched; vast swathes had been fused into glassy crystals. These then disintegrated into the finest dust under subsequent energy shocks, swept high into the air by the violent gales.
The rampaging lightning serpents and energy turbulence surged outward like a breached dam. The most ferocious of these aftershocks bore down directly on Roland, who knelt on one knee, utterly exhausted.
The destructive aura made his scalp tingle.
Roland gritted his teeth, attempting to squeeze the last drop of strength from his body. His blood-colored battle qi, now a dim flicker, barely materialized as he raised his sword to block.
The next instant—
Voom!
A deep, viscous, and almost tangible Shadow Barrier materialized out of thin air several meters in front of Roland.
BOOM!
The energy blast slammed into the Shadow Barrier, producing a dull, heavy thud.
The barrier rippled violently, fine cracks even appearing at its edges. Yet, it stubbornly held firm, keeping the lethal impact and the spraying lightning at bay.
Space twisted slightly as Duerden's hunched figure materialized through a short-range [Blink].
He turned urgently to look at Roland, who was barely holding his ground.
"Mr. Rudolph, are you all right?"
Though his tone was concerned, shock was evident in his eyes.
Even at the peak of his power, Duerden would never have been certain he could not only survive such a devastating energy collision but also retain the strength to fight again, as the man before him had.
As expected of Mr. Rudolph...
Just as Duerden's thoughts were swirling, a voice laced with clear anxiety broke the battlefield's brief silence.
"Roland!"
Before the voice even faded, the sound of something tearing through the air grew closer.
A lithe, slender figure plummeted from the sky, executing a clean roll upon landing to absorb the impact. Without a moment's pause, she rushed to Roland's side, where he knelt on one knee, and knelt down to carefully support his swaying body.
"Roland! Are you okay? How bad is the injury?"
Realizing the newcomer was a woman and that she was showing such undisguised concern, Duerden tactfully swallowed the greeting he had been about to offer.
Then, he discreetly took a step to the side, keeping his back to the two of them as he faced the center of the explosion, which was still shrouded in the aftereffects of violent energy and billowing dust.
He gripped his wooden staff tightly, his crimson eyes as sharp as a hawk's. His entire body was on high alert, fixed on the churning smoke, monitoring the area for any possible movement to carve out a small, undisturbed space for the two behind him.
"Avril?"
Instantly recognizing her, Roland slowly waved his hand and used the elf girl's sturdy arm for support to stand up.
"I'm fine... just a little... drained."
Avril didn't take his word at face value. Instead, she quickly inspected his most severe wounds.
Only after confirming that there were no fatal injuries—that he was simply suffering from severe physical and magical exhaustion—did she truly breathe a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders finally relaxing.
"That's a relief."
The elf girl's tone softened slightly.
"I rushed back to find you immediately after getting my teacher to safety, but I never expected..."
Her gaze swept across the surrounding battlefield, which looked as if it had been ravaged by a natural disaster.
The ground had been vitrified, space itself was twisted and scarred, and stray energy still crackled in the air. She couldn't help but click her tongue.
"...the battle here would be this intense."
"Don't let your guard down!"
Roland took a deep breath, forcing himself to suppress the overwhelming weakness coursing through his body.
The [ Primal Core ] within him began to operate with unprecedented efficiency, like a spring beneath parched earth, continuously generating a trickle of warm power that repaired damaged tissue and replenished his nearly depleted strength.
His gaze was sharp, locked onto the area where the dust was gradually thinning. He spoke in a low, grim voice.
"It's not over yet!"
"How is that possible..."
Avril countered instinctively.
The scene of devastation before her made it impossible to imagine what could have survived such an attack.
However, before her words could even fully form...
In the distance, a blurred silhouette slowly emerged from the churning dust, which had begun to dissipate in the energy's afterglow.
Then, a clear, rhythmic sound of clapping drifted from the figure's direction.
Clap... clap... clap...
The applause was slow and steady, echoing across the dead ruins with a chilling composure.
As the applause rang out, an invisible force gently swept the dust aside, and Corellon stepped forth from the haze.
His stride retained its innate elegance, as if he were not walking upon a scorched and ravaged wasteland, but strolling through the gardens of his divine realm.
His gaze bypassed the wary Duerden, falling directly upon Roland.
In those eyes, which seemed to contain the starry sky, a flicker of genuine, almost pure admiration now joined his usual indifference.
"Splendid... truly splendid."
His voice was calm, yet it possessed a quality that pierced the very soul.
"Even in the long river of my memory, few mortals have ever managed to blend martial skill and bloodline power to such a degree."
He raised a hand with unhurried grace, brushing a speck of dust from his ornate sleeve.
"I had thought that a mere wisp of my soul, clinging to this body, would be enough to roam freely through this twilight world of unraveling laws, carrying out the necessary... cleansing and reshaping."
His gaze swept over the devastating destruction surrounding them before finally settling on Roland's face, his perfect lips curving into an inscrutable smile.
"To think that a human—a mere mortal who should have been swept away by the tides of time—could, through sheer will and strength, drive me... to such a state."
At this moment, Corellon's full visage was revealed to all, striking terror into the hearts of those who beheld it.
He was clearly far from unscathed.
His magnificent robes, once flowing with the radiance of divine power, were torn in multiple places, their edges frayed by violent rending and energy burns. A fine crack, like a lightning strike, spiderwebbed across his pale face, stretching from his temple to his jaw. Though it bled no blood, it marred his absolute perfection, like a flaw upon a flawless jade. The vast, majestic aura of divinity that enveloped him had also grown dimmer and more chaotic than before, flickering like a candle in the wind.
Yet, even in this "wretched" state, his posture remained impeccably elegant, as if all his disarray were merely a temporary adornment.
The smile on his face didn't fade; instead, it seemed to deepen, tinged with the amusement of someone who had just discovered an unexpected delight.
Corellon then tilted his head slightly, gazing up at the sky shrouded in the pale blue [Canopy Barrier].
The once-flawless barrier, now spiderwebbed with fine cracks from the previous impact, looked as if it would shatter at any moment.
Suddenly, He shook His head gently and let out a sigh so faint it was barely audible. It carried a trace of...
...regret.
"Time... is running out," He murmured, as if stating an immutable fact.
Then, He turned His gaze back to Roland.
"In that case, let me see..." Corellon's voice remained calm. "...just where your limit lies, human."
As Corellon closed His eyes to focus, His aura shifting violently, Roland—who had only just begun to recover—felt his pupils contract. He immediately shouted a warning:
"Watch out!"
Yet, to everyone's surprise, Corellon did not launch a world-shattering attack. He simply stood there, eyes closed, as if completely oblivious to the world around Him.
But beneath his deceptively calm exterior, a strange and perilous transformation was rapidly unfolding within Roland's perception.
The previously scattered, chaotic divinity was now imploding and condensing at a visible rate, as if striving to fuse perfectly and completely with the mortal shell it occupied. An aura, far purer and more fundamental than before, began to stir and rise like an awakening ancient dragon.
Suppressing the tremor in his heart, Roland spoke quickly and clearly to the two comrades beside him.
"Attack him! Now! Break his rhythm—I need time!"
Avril and Duerden's expressions darkened in unison, but they nodded without hesitation.
"Understood!"
At that same instant, the surface elves, finally recovering from their shock, realized their deity seemed to be in some kind of "vulnerable" state. Fanatical believers attempted to rush forward to protect him.
However, their advance was immediately halted by the Drow warriors, who had already reacted.
"Protect Lord Roland and the Elder!"
"Stop those pointy-ears!"
In a flash, the battlefield's edge, which had fallen silent for a mere moment, erupted once more into the clash of steel and battle cries. The chaotic fires of war were rekindled.
At the center of the battlefield.
Whoosh!
Avril struck first. Her longbow shuddered, and an arrow streaked forth like a falling star, aimed straight for Corellon's brow.
Duerden acted almost in unison. He struck his staff against the ground, and a twisted spear of shadow materialized from thin air. With a soul-tearing shriek, it lunged from a treacherous angle, piercing toward Corellon's back.
Yet, faced with this swift and lethal pincer attack, Corellon—his eyes still closed—didn't even flinch.
The instant the attacks were about to strike, a thin, nearly transparent ripple of divine power naturally emanated from his body.
Avril's arrow struck the ripple and sank as if into invisible mud. Its speed plummeted, and it fell powerless, just a foot from its target.
Duerden's shadow spear hit an invisible wall, dissipating silently after sending out a faint tremor.
Every attack was effortlessly neutralized by that self-sustaining, ever-solidifying barrier of divinity.
By now, Roland was no longer concerned with the outcome of the assault.
He gripped the hilt of Radiant Moon with both hands, slowly drawing the longsword from the scorched earth and holding it upright before his chest.
Hah...
After a deep breath, low and ancient syllables slowly escaped his lips.
It was as if he were reciting a long-lost epic, his voice carrying a strange, rhythmic cadence.
"With the essence of wind as my guide, I shall shake the mountains and awaken the roaring silence..."
(End of the Chapter)
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