Translator: CinderTL
Though brief, Roland's journey to the Golden Valley Kingdom had yielded astonishing results.
He had not only raised his Bloodline Fusion Degree to 100% and awakened the dragon bloodline, successfully becoming a dragonborn, but also acquired the Holy Strike, a technique with immense potential.
Furthermore, he had clarified the connection between positive energy and faith, solidifying his path of self-worship.
While the Job Panel hadn't yet provided explicit guidance, Roland was almost certain that once his Faith Resonance reached a certain threshold, it would trigger a class awakening related to the holy knight.
Not to mention, by consuming that mysterious liquid, he had activated the Shadow Perception trait and unlocked clues to the rogue class path...
This series of encounters had undoubtedly greatly enhanced his strength.
However...
Demonic beasts, dragons, deities, liches, the abyss...
These known facts and personal experiences all pointed to one thing:
As the magic elements gradually revived, this continent, steeped in ancient memories, was slowly revealing its true nature hidden beneath the iceberg.
Roland was convinced that such dangerous figures and events would only become more frequent in the future.
To survive, he must constantly grow stronger.
Thanks to the unique advantage of his Job Panel, even mastering the most basic classes could grant him significant power boosts.
However, triggering or mastering any class typically required years of dedicated practice, not to mention a stroke of luck.
Therefore, to focus on improving his strength, he needed to find a stable region.
But the River Domain Nations...
Recalling the magic well that loomed like a latent disaster and the elusive wizards, Roland sighed inwardly.
Clearly, the turbulent situation brewing in the River Domain Nations would make it difficult for him to train peacefully.
Even a transcendent like Graham, far stronger than himself, struggled to influence the nations' course. What chance did he stand?
Since he couldn't change or resolve the River Domain Nations' impending chaos, Roland could only think of one option: escape.
To avoid being dragged into the brewing quagmire.
With this thought, Roland took a deep breath, signaled Galvis and Theresa, and slowly retreated to the back of the party, clearly explaining his reasoning.
Before he finished speaking, Galvis's fingers snapped off the harp strings with a crisp, resonant note.
"Escape the boiling quagmire?" The bard's suppressed voice trembled with barely concealed excitement.
"Wise! An utterly wise choice, oh my Roland! Let those ambitious schemers and shadowy figures vie for power at the vortex's center. A true hero should aspire to a grander stage!"
He urged his horse closer, the body of his lute brushing lightly against Roland's mount with a muffled thud. His tone shifted to one of theatrical curiosity.
"Tell me, our guide, once we leave this troublesome land of the River Domain Nations, where do you intend to lead our steps?"
"My verses are already parched with anticipation, yearning to chronicle new legends!"
Watching his companion's exaggerated gestures, Roland sighed almost imperceptibly.
Despite having traveled together for some time, he still found Galvis's sudden bursts of enthusiasm somewhat overwhelming.
Beside them, Theresa turned her head slightly, silver strands of hair brushing across her impassive cheek in the morning wind. Her gaze swept silently over Roland, like the sky reflected in a calm lake, without a ripple of emotion. She nodded almost imperceptibly, her movement crisp and efficient, as if she had anticipated this decision all along.
After glancing at his two strikingly different companions, Roland met Galvis's probing, eager gaze and shook his head slightly.
"Before that, we must first return to the River Domain Nations."
He paused, then continued explaining.
"Mr. Bronson is still there. We can't just leave him behind. We must ensure his safety and bring him with us."
"Furthermore, I need to inform Avril of our decision. As a companion, she has the right to know."
Upon hearing Avril's name, Galvis instinctively shrank his neck.
Roland ignored him, his gaze fixed on the road stretching to the horizon. He continued, "As for our next destination, we'll decide that later."
After communicating with Galvis and Theresa, Roland wasted no time.
Recalling their experiences in the Golden Valley Kingdom, he spurred his horse forward, riding alongside Reggie, the mentor leading the party. He briefly explained his plan to leave as soon as possible, along with his reasons.
Reggie, clearly aware of the Golden Valley Kingdom's unusual circumstances, nodded gravely. "A wise decision."
At his command, the entire party immediately increased its pace.
The carriage wheels rumbled, and the horses' hooves pounded the road in a rapid, rhythmic cadence. The group moved almost at a forced march, racing along the boulevard toward the border of the River Domain Nations.
The journey was eerily peaceful. Apart from the wind and the rhythmic clatter of hooves, no other sounds disturbed the silence.
This excessive calm, however, did not reassure Roland; instead, it heightened his tension.
His sharp gaze swept across every potential hiding spot along the road, his nerves taut.
Finally, as evening approached, the party reached a vast, relatively flat wilderness.
The deep autumn sunset painted the withered grasses with a rusty-red hue, and the distant horizon appeared particularly desolate.
A biting wind began to howl, carrying an icy chill.
Reggie reined in his horse and pointed toward a faint glimmer of light barely visible through the encroaching twilight. "Look ahead, Roland," he said. "If the map is accurate, there should be a small village not far from here."
"It's getting late. We can find lodging and rest there. It's better than camping in this exposed wilderness..."
Before Reggie could finish his sentence, a sudden, icy, viscous malice, like a venomous thorn, descended without warning from behind a low earthen mound to their side.
The Solitary Bastion trait had been triggered!
Roland's pupils constricted sharply, his mind instantly clearing.
He didn't shout; his movements were as swift as lightning.
With his left hand, Roland yanked Reggie's mount to a sudden halt. Simultaneously, he raised his right arm and decisively swung it backward, executing a clear and sharp "halt" gesture.
Though lacking real combat experience, the trainees selected from the River Domain Nations were rigorously trained.
Almost the instant his signal fell, the party's advance gradually slowed.
The next moment, Roland drew the mithril short spear from its sheath on his back.
Without any deliberate aiming, relying solely on his perception of the malevolent intent, he channeled his strength into his arm and hurled the spear with explosive force.
Whoosh!
The short spear transformed into a silver streak, tearing through the twilight air with a piercing whine, and struck with unerring accuracy behind the low earthen mound.
Thud!
A muffled yet distinct sound of flesh being pierced echoed through the air.
Immediately afterward, a dark crimson liquid began seeping from behind the mound, its lurid color starkly visible in the dim, yellowish light.
However, before the rest of the party could react to this lightning-fast turn of events,
a sudden transformation occurred!
The desolate wilderness, previously empty and silent, seemed to instantly come alive.
From the withered woods lining the road, from behind the undulating earth mounds, and from the shadows of the distant, rolling hills, a dense mass of figures suddenly materialized as if surging from the ground.
A thousand soldiers appeared silently, clad in armor and wielding weapons. They formed a tight encirclement, their icy killing intent permeating the twilight, trapping Roland and his party at the center.
"They're soldiers from the Golden Valley Kingdom!"
Their armor differed sharply from the blue-and-white armor common in the River Domain Nations. Dark, metallic surfaces were etched with bold bronze stripes, resembling the furrows of wheat fields during harvest season.
After confirming their identity, Roland calmly scanned the surroundings, quickly assessing the enemy's numbers. While a thousand well-trained soldiers posed a challenge, they didn't make him nervous.
But then his brow furrowed slightly.
His gaze pierced through the rigid military formation, settling on the figures further back. There, he clearly sensed two distinct yet equally powerful auras.
They stood out like lighthouses in the night, their overwhelming presence contrasting sharply with the faint energy fields of the surrounding ordinary soldiers.
Transcendental professionals—and there were two of them.
(End of the Chapter)
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