Translator: CinderTL
In the dimly lit room, the flickering firelight seemed particularly glaring.
As the white-robed figure recovered from his shock, the dancing flame caught his eye.
"A trick... Is that a Fire Arrow?"
Seeing the familiar stance, the white-robed figure raised an eyebrow slightly.
He was intimately familiar with the power of Fire Arrows.
Far from feeling fear, he was instead intensely curious about Roland's ability to perform such a trick.
Yet even as these thoughts raced through his mind, his movements remained decisive.
Though the Fire Arrow's power was limited, it was still a trick derived from the same source as spells.
In his current weakened state, recklessly confronting it head-on would be unwise.
Just as he prepared to dodge, the flame at Roland's fingertips suddenly surged.
In an instant, the tiny spark had expanded into a palm-sized fireball.
"How is this possible? That was clearly just a trick..."
Before the white-robed figure's shock could dissipate, his pupils contracted sharply, his gaze locked onto the flame.
It was his phylactery.
The flames traced the phylactery's outline with perfect precision, revealing even the ancient etched patterns on its surface in minute detail, as if someone had projected the vessel of his soul directly into the firelight.
He should have been wary, should have immediately averted his gaze.
But the rhythmic dance of the flames was like a hypnotic incantation, gradually lulling his consciousness into a trance.
"No... this can't be..."
His voice was hoarse and weak.
Reason screamed warnings of danger, yet his body remained paralyzed, as if controlled by invisible threads, not even his fingertips able to twitch.
The flames swelled in his vision, gradually filling his entire world.
The white-robed figure's will to resist crumbled.
His thoughts dissolved into chaos, leaving only one thought echoing in his mind.
"That flame... it's my phylactery... no!"
"It's mind control!"
His mental barrier shuddered violently, crushing the invading charm power.
But when the white-robed figure refocused his gaze, all he saw was a fully charged, searing fireball.
Too late.
As the crimson flames illuminated his pale face, the compressed inferno had already locked onto his entire form.
In the life-or-death clash, even a moment's hesitation could prove fatal.
Yet the white-robed figure showed no panic, only a slight upward curve of his lips.
"How... intriguing."
Before he could finish the whisper, the explosive flames erupted with a deafening roar.
A searing shockwave instantly engulfed the entire room, consuming everything in its fiery embrace.
Wooden tables and chairs twisted and warped under the extreme heat, wall hangings were reduced to ash in an instant, and even the window glass shattered from the sudden temperature change, sending shards flying in all directions.
Thick smoke billowed toward the ceiling, only to be drawn back into the raging flames, creating a scorching vortex within the confined space.
Flames surged and roared, the heat wind howled, and Roland's robes whipped wildly in the fiery maelstrom.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze piercing through the searing air to lock onto the figure engulfed by the flames.
Strangely, the white-robed figure didn't burn. Instead, it gradually dissolved like ink spreading in water.
The Spirit body twisted and warped in the intense heat, resembling a thin veil torn apart by invisible hands. Its edges continuously crumbled, transforming into shimmering fragments that drifted away like sparks.
Suddenly, with a blinding flash of light, the body exploded violently.
No blood or flesh splattered, no agonizing screams pierced the air. Only countless crystalline shards, like shattered glass, scattered in all directions.
Amidst the swirling fragments, a glittering object flickered into view.
Clink!
With a crisp sound, the object finally fell to the ground.
"Is it over?"
Roland cautiously scanned his surroundings, his gaze sweeping across every inch of space. Only when he confirmed there were no further signs of movement did his tense nerves begin to relax.
Thanks to the significant boost in mental power he'd gained after becoming a Juggler, the Fire Arrow he'd cast this time, though as powerful as his first attempt, hadn't drained his mental reserves.
After slowly exhaling a stale breath, Roland steadied his spirit and stepped forward, bending down to pick up the glittering object lying quietly on the ground.
The moment his fingertip touched it, the cool, metallic sensation registered.
He frowned slightly, lifting the object to eye level for a closer examination.
"A... pendant?"
A delicate silver chain dangled between his fingers. The pendant's centerpiece was a teardrop-shaped obsidian stone, its surface swirling with fine, crimson patterns that resembled congealed blood vessels.
As the light shifted, faint outlines of intricate lines flickered deep within the stone's core.
These were clearly not natural formations.
"Are these... spell patterns engraved inside?"
Just as Roland was deep in thought, a faint buzzing sound suddenly filled his ears.
The sound began like the flutter of a mosquito's wings but instantly swelled and shattered.
With a soft pop, like someone had punctured a bubble near his eardrum, he shuddered violently, as if some invisible blockage had suddenly been withdrawn from his ears.
The eerily silent environment now surged with a cacophony of sounds.
The rustling of wind through grass, the distant clang of clashing weapons, and the faint, blood-tinged cries of battle drifted on the air.
"What is this..."
Roland's pupils contracted sharply as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the pendant.
The silence he had perceived earlier was an illusion, his senses veiled by some unknown force.
After shaking his head slightly, Roland turned toward the direction of the battle cries.
It was the harbor.
Beneath the dim sky, white-robed figures clashed fiercely with the Far Ocean Port Guards in their deep blue uniforms.
Amidst the flashing blades, the white-robed figures were steadily retreating, clearly outmatched by the guards.
"What exactly is happening?"
Just as Roland frowned in thought, a sharp whistling sound pierced the air beside him.
He quickly tucked the pendant into his tunic and instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword.
But before he could pinpoint the source of the sound, a clear, melodious voice called out from the side.
"Sorry, sorry! Roland! Are you alright?"
Crash!
Amidst the shattering glass, a slender figure nimbly vaulted through the broken window.
Silhouetted against the dim, golden sunset, Roland slowly narrowed his eyes.
The newcomer was a girl.
Beneath her short brown hair, her features were unnaturally refined.
Dust clung to her rounded cheeks, and her slightly parted lips gasped for breath.
Most striking were her faintly luminous eyes, which shone brightly in the dim light.
As she turned her head, Roland noticed her ears.
Sharper than human ears, their translucent lobes seemed almost ethereal.
His body tensed instantly.
"An elf?"
Before Roland could voice his question, the girl's gaze swept the room, finally locking onto his face.
"Roland! You're alive!" she exclaimed, taking a joyful step forward, her short brown hair swaying with the movement.
"If anything had happened to you, I wouldn't know how to explain it to Mr. Colin."
Seeing her approach, Roland cautiously retreated half a step, his right hand remaining firmly on the hilt of his sword.
"Who are you?"
"Still as cautious as ever," the girl sighed, observing Roland's tense posture.
She then pressed her left hand lightly against her chest and performed an odd yet elegant bow.
"Avril Starwhisper, current field agent of the Shadow Veil Organization of the River Domain Nations."
(End of the Chapter)
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