Translator: CinderTL
"A sacred artifact?"
Holland showed no concern for his arm, which had turned to ashes. He merely raised his nonexistent eyebrows slightly, his voice filled with deep bewilderment.
"I knew it looked familiar! You're a follower of Lothander too, aren't you, kid?"
As he spoke, he glanced quickly over his shoulder.
Seeing the last crimson traces of the magic array completely extinguished, he muttered cheerfully, "Ellis, even though I couldn't complete the mission you entrusted to me, I fought to the very end, right? Surely... you won't blame me, will you?"
But before his words could fully fade, the Mithril Longsword, wreathed in a faint golden glow, struck again.
Close behind came a sharp rapier, a heavy battleaxe, and...
Several arrows crackling with deep green energy.
"Alright, alright, you little brats, I surrender! Is that good enough for you?"
Holland nimbly dodged the attacks while raising his still-intact left arm in a gesture of surrender.
Unfortunately, Roland and his companions' assault didn't falter in the slightest due to his actions.
"Tch! A bunch of disrespectful brats who don't know how to treat their elders," the priest grumbled, his body twisting unnaturally in mid-air.
Then, in a motion utterly impossible for a human, he unleashed a whip-like kick.
In an instant, Orc Freddy, who had been swinging his giant axe, was sent hurtling backward like a cannonball launched from a catapult, crashing heavily into a pile of rubble and sending dust billowing into the air.
The resurrected priest didn't even touch the ground.
Using the recoil from his kick, he propelled himself toward a nearby broken stone pillar. His figure flickered like a phantom, vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye.
"Don't chase him, Avril!" Roland called out, stopping the elf girl who was about to give chase. He quickly issued orders: "Theresa, you and Avril take point. Galvis, you too."
He turned to the bard, who still had his eyes closed, fingers dancing across the strings of his lute, lost in his impassioned melody.
"Stop that damned music!"
"Fine," the bard sighed mournfully, reluctantly ceasing his playing.
Roland hurried past Vanessa, who was crouched on the ground meticulously examining the ashes that had been Holland's arm, and rushed toward the ruins. He grabbed the orc's thick arm.
"Freddy! Freddy!"
Brushing away the sand from the orc's face, Roland slapped his ferocious-looking cheek.
"Are you alright?"
"Mr. Roland? What happened?" Freddy blinked dazedly, his eyes gradually regaining clarity.
With Roland's help, he slowly climbed to his feet, scratching the back of his head.
"I'm fine, Mr. Roland, just..." He shook his slightly sore arm, a good-natured smile spreading across his face. "That guy was incredibly strong! I've only felt that kind of power from my father before."
Ignoring Freddy's somewhat nonsensical remark, Roland carefully examined him from head to toe. Only after confirming he was unharmed did he finally exhale in relief.
Though Roland hadn't known the orc for long, the orc's straightforward nature and respect for him had already made Roland consider him a reliable comrade.
Seeing that the orc had only sustained minor injuries, Roland's anxiety finally eased.
Perhaps because the Demon Capital's vast number of magitech constructs had been drawn away by Reggie's army, the area where they now stood was eerily silent.
After carefully surveying the surroundings and confirming no anomalies, Roland instructed the group to rest briefly in place.
He then strode back to the center of the recent battle.
"How is it, Miss Vanessa?" he asked, looking at the witch crouching on the ground. "Have you found anything of research value in these ashes?"
"No," the Purple-Haired Witch Vanessa replied with a soft shake of her head and a regretful sigh. "I detected only a faint trace of Necromancy residue, but this minuscule trace... it holds absolutely no research value."
Hearing this, Roland simply nodded.
To this day, Roland still couldn't understand the witch's motives.
Before rushing to the stone hut, he had intended for her and Mason to stay with Reggie, safely awaiting the battle's conclusion.
But Vanessa had stubbornly insisted on accompanying him.
Yet even after coming along, she hadn't lifted a finger to help during the fight, instead observing quietly from a distance.
This seemingly aimless behavior left Roland utterly perplexed.
He shook his head slightly, deciding to abandon further speculation. Instead, he bent down and picked up the shield lying near the ashes.
The moment he held it, Roland recognized the material: mithril.
But beyond that, he sensed a familiar resonance emanating from the shield...
Roland's brow furrowed slightly as his hand instinctively moved to grip the hilt of his sword.
"This shield... seems to share some strange connection with my Mithril Longsword."
He closed his eyes, focusing his Material Empathy ability. After a moment of careful sensing, he confirmed his deduction.
"But this feeling... it's more like the Mithril Longsword before the Pixie Queen lifted the curse. Which means..."
Roland's gaze refocused on the shield in his hand.
Its size was moderate, easily wieldable with one hand. The surface was polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting a cool, silvery glow in the dim light.
The shield's edges were slightly raised, while its center featured an intricately forged circular boss.
Its most striking feature was a ring of elaborate and delicate thorn vine patterns etched across the shield's surface. These silver-lined designs shimmered faintly in the light, appearing and disappearing with subtle shifts in perspective.
Perhaps this shield, like the Mithril Longsword, is also some kind of Treasure Tool?
Roland buried this speculation for the moment and turned to face his companions.
"Guys, this shield—"
"Roland, while your noble character is truly admirable," the bard Galvis interrupted, stepping closer to examine the silver shield with a hint of exasperation in his voice. "But... do you really think any of us could actually wield this thing in battle?"
"Alright, Galvis..."
Roland's gaze swept over the group, noting the absence of objections or eagerness on their faces. He shrugged slightly and expertly strapped the shield to his left arm.
His previous clash with Holland had left him deeply impressed by the shield's resilience.
Neither his own Mithril Longsword, Theresa's swift rapier, nor Freddy's mighty battleaxe had left even a scratch on its smooth surface.
Though not a Treasure Tool like the Mithril Longsword, its sheer invulnerability alone was enough to elevate Roland's combat prowess to a new level.
As Roland's fingers unconsciously traced the shield's cold, ornate thorn-patterned design, the long-silent Vanessa gracefully rose from the ground.
"Mr. Roland..."
The Purple-Haired Witch's voice retained its usual low, almost naturally seductive cadence.
The sound made Avril and Theresa, standing nearby, instinctively frown.
Despite having heard it countless times before, the primal discomfort it evoked remained.
"What's your next plan? Are we heading to another nexus of magical power?"
(End of the Chapter)
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