Translator: CinderTL
Roland's reasoning was clear and direct, even carrying a hint of desperate resolve.
Despite the limited information he had gathered, he was convinced that the root of the land's transformation lay with the Lich who controlled negative energy.
Therefore, eliminating or banishing this creature would resolve their current predicament.
His earlier decision to retreat from the Mistland rather than follow Graham into Crushed Stone Canyon wasn't solely due to the disparity in their strength. A deeper reason lay in his deeply ingrained caution.
As his understanding of this world deepened, his vigilance grew stronger. He had always resisted acting rashly without sufficient information.
But now, he had no other choice.
Roland's gaze swept across the surroundings.
The Demon Capital Gilles had reappeared in the world, and the ground was slowly twisting and distorting, radiating an unsettling eeriness.
Though the mist had thinned slightly, the roars of demonic beasts within it grew denser and more piercing, sending chills down his spine.
He preferred taking risks to passively waiting for death.
Taking a deep breath, he said to Reggie in a low voice,
"Instructor Reggie, there's definitely someone pulling the strings behind this situation. And that person must be the enemy currently battling Dean Graham."
"If we regroup with the Dean and help him defeat this powerful foe, the surrounding anomalies will subside, and we'll have a chance to survive. But if we remain idle..."
He paused, his voice hardening.
"If Dean Graham falls, we'll be left with nothing but prayer—praying that no further catastrophes befall us before Lord Derek can organize reinforcements."
Reggie fell silent after Roland's words.
But after a moment, the academy instructor clapped Roland firmly on the shoulder.
"You're right, kid. Compared to you..."
Reggie's tightly furrowed brow relaxed, and a rough grin spread across his face.
"This old man was being too cautious."
Before he finished speaking, Reggie had already turned and stepped onto a nearby boulder, his booming voice echoing through the forest.
"All troops, listen up! Check your gear! After a brief rest, we're moving out to support Lord Graham!"
"Yes, sir!"
Seeing Reggie agree to his plan, Roland let out a small sigh of relief.
He had briefly observed the thousand-strong force and noted that a significant number of soldiers had surpassed the Mortal Boundary.
While they couldn't hope to match a true transcendent in direct combat, if they could merely distract the Lich, or create an opening for Graham, Jashu, or Reggie to confront it...
Then the scales of victory might tip in their favor.
Of course, the situation remained highly volatile, and unforeseen complications were inevitable.
But...
Around the perimeter of the forest, the sentry soldiers had already clashed with the encroaching demonic beasts. The clang of weapons and bestial roars echoed through the air.
Roland took a deep breath, turned resolutely, and strode toward his comrades.
There was no turning back now.
Crushed Stone Canyon.
The name now seemed utterly incongruous.
Demon Capital Gilles had risen from the dust of history, violently tearing apart the canyon's original landscape.
Before them lay the ancient Demon Capital's decayed and monstrous core.
The once jagged rock walls had been replaced by towering, twisted black spires, their surfaces riddled with massive, pulsating fissures that seemed almost alive, through which flowed a sinister violet energy.
Beneath their feet was no longer sand and gravel, but a wide street paved with cracked black stone slabs, stretching toward the central spire in the distance. The spire pulsed like a colossal heart, radiating terrifying waves of magical energy.
Along both sides of the street lay the time-ravaged ruins of once-grand structures.
Broken, massive pillars leaned precariously into the ground, while crumbling walls covered in eerie runes stood stubbornly erect. Empty window sockets stared like skeletal eye sockets, silently watching the intruders.
The air was thick with dust, the metallic tang of rust, and a pungent, acrid smell of burning.
Even more unsettling were the living "residents" that infested this place.
In addition to the colossal magitech constructs that resembled mobile fortresses, there were far more numerous smaller constructs, roughly human-sized.
They came in various forms: some were twisted metal spiders scuttling through the ruins at high speed, while others resembled skeletons draped in tattered cloaks, wielding gleaming blades and emitting ear-piercing grinding noises from their joints.
These smaller constructs moved like phantoms through the broken walls and rubble, their eyes flashing with cold, hostile red light, posing an omnipresent lethal threat.
Amidst this desolate yet chaotic wasteland of the Demon Capital,
Bang!
A deafening metallic crash suddenly erupted.
A magitech construct, nearly obscuring the sky, raised its filth-stained arm to deliver a devastating blow. But like a silver lightning bolt tearing through the darkness, a figure precisely pierced its blind spot.
It was Graham.
The Transcendent Knight moved with such speed that he left afterimages in his wake.
There was no earth-shattering roar, only a single thrust, honed to perfection, embodying the essence of his strength and skill.
The sword flashed, burning through the corruption like holy fire.
The seemingly ordinary longsword effortlessly pierced the construct's seemingly impenetrable rock armor, striking with unerring accuracy at its core:
An energy node beneath the thick armor, violently flickering with unstable purple demonic energy.
Buzz... CRACKLE...
The construct's massive body froze abruptly, its violent movements instantly ceasing.
The surging energy within its core emitted a deathly wail.
Then, the blinding purple light flickered violently before extinguishing completely, like a candle snuffed out.
Deprived of its power source, the colossal metal and rock body collapsed with a deafening crash onto the ancient cobblestone streets, transforming into a heap of twisted wreckage that hissed with acrid smoke, sending plumes of dust billowing into the air.
With a low growl, Graham's figure had already darted forward again.
The longsword in his hand transformed into a silver flash of death, precisely extinguishing the red lights in the eyes of each charging construct.
He didn't linger in battle, his sharp gaze sweeping across the hellish battlefield.
The sudden "awakening" of Demon Capital Gilles had unleashed a catastrophe.
The earth cracked open, the canyon landscape instantly twisted into a wasteland of jagged spires and crumbling ruins.
Most of the soldiers he had brought had perished in the sudden collapse, buried deep beneath the rubble.
The survivors were locked in a desperate, losing battle.
They clung to the shattered walls, barely maintaining their formation. Their shields were riddled with cracks, and their spears struggled to pierce the constructs' reinforced shells.
Yet the smaller constructs surged forward like an icy tide, tireless and endless, pouring from the shadows of the ruins.
The soldiers' movements grew sluggish, their battle cries mixed with pained groans and fear.
The formation faltered under repeated assaults, casualties mounting steadily.
Against this inexhaustible metal flood, the human soldiers' stamina and will were rapidly draining, their defeat imminent.
"Jashu!"
As another colossal magitech construct shattered beneath Graham's blade, collapsing into smoking scrap metal, he roared the name.
Before the echo faded, his longsword had transformed into a silver curtain, too swift for the eye to follow.
Time seemed to freeze for an instant.
The smaller constructs, charging from all directions, slammed into an invisible wall of annihilation.
Their metallic bodies twisted and disintegrated mid-air, components raining down like hail, instantly clearing a vast area around Graham.
Dust billowed, yet Graham's voice remained clear and cold, unaffected by the chaos.
"Still haven't located the spellcaster's position?"
"My apologies, Dean Graham."
The response came from behind Graham, a shadow coalescing silently as if peeled from the sunlight itself.
In the blinding light, the assassin Jashu's figure materialized with stark clarity.
His movement was almost simultaneous with his appearance.
With a casual flick of his wrist, as if brushing away dust, he unleashed a devastating strike.
Shriii! Crunch!
The small magitech constructs that had just surged from the shadows of the ruins, attempting to fill the void, were crushed as if by an invisible giant hand. Without warning, they disintegrated and exploded meters away from the pair, scattering into a storm of metallic fragments.
"The target seems to be deliberately concealing their presence. Their objective..."
The assassin's voice was low and steady, his gaze piercing through the chaos of the ruins toward the pulsating central spire deep within the city.
"They likely intend to trap us here indefinitely with this endless stream of steel cannon fodder. Or perhaps... to impede our advance."
(End of the Chapter)
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