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Translator: CinderTL
Roland caught a glimpse of the approaching figure from the corner of his eye.
Shattered leather armor, disheveled hair, and a face covered in blood and grime, yet still bearing that familiar, resolute expression.
It was Reggie.
However, this fleeting glance didn't cause Roland to hesitate for even a moment.
The Mithril Longsword, raised high and brimming with terrifying power, didn't falter. Instead, it descended with even greater speed and ferocity, striking down relentlessly.
The target remained Leonard.
Seeing this, Leonard barely managed to raise his arms in a desperate attempt to block.
Bang!
The already battered gauntlets shattered into pieces.
Then...
Boom!
It was like a meteor crashing into the ground.
Centered on Leonard, the frozen tundra within a several-meter radius buckled and cracked under the inhuman force.
Spiderweb-like fissures spread wildly, emitting a sickening groan.
Leonard's mountain-like frame was slammed into the shattered ground, as if hammered into the earth by an invisible giant's mallet.
The rock beneath him formed a human-shaped crater, as dust and debris erupted skyward.
The heavy armor covering his body let out a final, strained groan as it buckled under the immense pressure, twisting into a mangled wreck.
Blood gurgled from the gaps in his helmet, and his arms, which had barely managed to block the blow, were twisted at unnatural angles. The man lay completely still, devoid of any sign of life.
Confirming that his opponent had fallen into a deep coma, Roland didn't even spare a second glance at his victory.
Before the earth-shattering impact had fully reverberated, he had already used the momentum to pivot around.
The ground beneath his feet exploded again as he shot toward Reggie's incoming trajectory like a bolt of lightning.
He caught Reggie's limp body mid-air with pinpoint accuracy. The colossal impact barely registered as he absorbed the force, landing smoothly on the ground.
Looking down, Roland's brow furrowed instantly.
Reggie's condition was utterly dire.
His leather armor had been almost completely shattered.
A clear, fist-shaped indentation, deep enough to expose bone, marred his chest, the surrounding flesh torn and blood seeping continuously.
His left arm was twisted at an unnatural angle, clearly fractured beyond repair.
His face was covered in bruises and bloodstains, his breathing shallow and barely perceptible. He lay unconscious, unresponsive.
Only the broken sword hilt clutched tightly in his right handāa grip he hadn't relinquished even in his comatose stateāsilently testified to the brutal, desperate battle he had just endured.
As Roland examined Reggie's injuries, a deep, resonant whoosh erupted beside him, carrying a heart-stopping pressure.
Roland jerked his head up, following the sound.
He saw a figure encased in impenetrable black armor, not a single patch of skin visible beneath the full-coverage, menacing helmet. Like a killing machine, the figure charged forward with a speed that defied its heavy armor.
The door-sized greatsword in its hand rose high, its blade tearing through the air with a banshee-like shriek. The strike carried a terrifying momentum, as if capable of cleaving mountains, and descended upon Roland's head.
The blow was brutally powerful and fiercely aggressive.
Yet a flicker of confusion crossed Roland's eyes.
To his senses, the attacker's aura, though undeniably strong and brimming with savage intent, clearly lacked the raw energy and sheer power of Leonard, whom he had just defeated.
How could such an opponent have so grievously wounded the seasoned Reggie?
Even if Reggie's strength among transcendents wasn't top-tier, he should never have been reduced to such a pitiful state...
In the blink of an eye, the massive sword, carrying the weight of a thousand tons, crashed down overhead. The violent sword wind even whipped strands of hair across Roland's forehead.
Faced with this seemingly unstoppable strike, Roland's reaction was remarkably simple and decisive.
He didn't even execute a full swing. Instead, he merely flicked his right arm, wielding the sword with force.
The Mithril Longsword, gleaming with a faint light, moved with the speed and precision of a giant lizard's tail whipping at an annoying fly. It struck the weakest point on the side of the pitch-black greatsword's blade, moving faster than the eye could follow.
Clang!
A deafening, explosive clash of metal erupted, far sharper and more violent than any previous collision.
There was no stalemate, no struggle for dominance.
Under the crushing force of the inhuman strength derived from Roland's near-complete fusion with the dragon bloodline, the outcome was never in doubt.
The heavy greatsword, struck head-on like a battering ram, recoiled violently upward, abruptly halting its wielder's charge.
The figure clad in pitch-black armor was sent flying backward like a leather ball struck by an invisible giant hand, completely losing control of its trajectory. It crashed into the ground nearby with even greater force than its initial charge.
Boom!
A muffled crash echoed as dust billowed, leaving a shallow crater in the ground.
Yet, in the blink of an eye...
Click.
With a faint metallic rasp, the pitch-black figure, slammed into the crater by immense force, abruptly rose to its feet, completely unscathed.
Not even a visible scratch marred the heavy black armor, as if the blowāwhich would have severely injured an ordinary transcendentāhad been nothing more than a gentle breeze.
Witnessing this, Roland's eyes narrowed slightly, his eyebrows imperceptibly arching.
He was intimately familiar with the power behind his strike.
Even Leonard, with his formidable defenses, could never have withstood such an impact so effortlessly.
How could this bizarre enemy emerge unscathed from such a devastating blow?
Before the question could fully form in his mind, the pitch-black figure surged forward again.
Still silent, still charging with relentless ferocity.
The greatsword swung in a wide arc, its savage momentum threatening to tear through everything in its path as it crashed down once more.
Roland's expression turned cold. He gently placed the gravely wounded Reggie behind him in a safe spot, then darted forward to meet the attack.
The ensuing battle was brief and utterly one-sided.
The dark figure's attacks were ferocious, each swing of its massive sword generating suffocating gusts of wind. But against Roland, whose speed and strength had long surpassed conventional limits, the figure's movements were riddled with openings.
Roland didn't even need to exert his full power. He effortlessly dodged several seemingly powerful but clumsy strikes, as if toying with his opponent. Then, his eyes flashed with insight as he seized upon the massive opening left by a desperate, full-force slash.
The Mithril Longsword transformed into a silver lightning bolt, piercing the void with ruthless precision and blinding speed.
Thunk!
The muffled sound of a sharp blade piercing metal echoed through the air.
The sword tip effortlessly pierced the seemingly impenetrable black armor, sinking deep into the chest beneath.
But the moment the armor was breached, revealing the flesh beneath, a familiar aura flooded the battlefield.
"The Abyss!" Roland's pupils constricted sharply.
That chilling, viscous maliceāreeking of cloying sweetness, decay, and the stench of blood...
He could never mistake it.
Though their previous encounter had been brief and superficial, this unique powerācapable of devouring light and corrupting soulsāhad been indelibly etched into the depths of his perception.
Realizing this, Roland immediately withdrew.
In the next instant, a sudden transformation occurred.
No blood seeped from the hole pierced in the breastplate by the Mithril Longsword.
Instead, a viscous, living darkness, so dense it seemed to solidify, erupted violently from the wound.
Unlike smoke, this substance resembled a sentient, asphalt-like entity, writhing and spreading with a nauseatingly profane aura.
The surrounding light seemed to be devoured by the darkness, the temperature plummeted, and even the air grew heavy, suffused with a grotesque stench of corroded metal and decaying corpses.
What truly set alarm bells ringing in Roland's mind was this:
Through the gap torn in the armor by the longsword, he clearly saw that the thick, sturdy armor was completely empty inside.
No bones, no flesh.
Only an endless, churning, writhing abyss of darkness, radiating an icy, despairing malice.
This pitch-black armor, capable of running, moving, and wielding a greatsword in battle, contained no living being within. It was more like...
A vessel filled with ominous darkness.
(End of the Chapter)
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