Translator: CinderTL
"Ugh... even though I've seen this thing before..."
The brief silence was broken by the petite pixie.
Tracy fluttered her transparent wings, hovering at a safe distance from the mind flayer. Her tiny nose wrinkled in undisguised disgust.
"Every time I look at it, I just think..."
She paused, searching for the most fitting words.
"It's just so ugly! Those slimy tentacles and that gooey skin..."
Beside her, Hoby nodded in fervent agreement, his grip tightening on his longsword as he murmured in agreement.
"Y-yes, Miss Tracy is right. It's... not very pleasant to look at."
As he spoke, the halfling's gaze drifted toward the mind flayer.
Its twisted limbs and the glowing, barbed iron chains embedded deep in its flesh.
Even knowing it was restrained, Hoby's throat involuntarily bobbed, and he instinctively took two steps back.
Meanwhile, the moment Orc Freddy laid eyes on the mind flayer, his rugged face hardened with grim seriousness.
His broad shoulders tensed slightly, and his thick fingers unconsciously drifted toward the battleaxe hilt at his waist, a low, wary growl rumbling in his throat.
Though he had never encountered a mind flayer before, the orc's primal instincts immediately detected the overwhelming aura of danger emanating from its body.
This instantly put him on high alert, as if facing a formidable enemy.
While the others reacted with varying degrees of shock and fear, Bronson seemed almost oblivious to the terrifying presence in the cave's center.
His entire attention was completely absorbed by the intricate, ancient silver runes etched into the surrounding rock walls.
He leaned closer, tracing the runes' patterns in the air with his fingers, murmuring in awe.
"Remarkable... utterly remarkable!" the scholar muttered to himself, his eyes burning with fascination.
"The structural stability and energy flow... this technique must be at least a thousand years old..."
In stark contrast to his companions' reactions—whether disgust, fear, or intense focus—Roland's eyes had been locked onto the heavily restrained mind flayer in the center of the cave since they first entered.
Experience had taught him that even the slightest carelessness when facing such a creature could lead to catastrophic consequences.
The life-or-death struggle in Howling Gorge remained vivid in his memory, making him acutely aware of the cunning and terror these psionic master possessed.
Their most lethal weapon was never their physical claws or fangs, but rather their psychic power, which struck directly at the mind, impossible to defend against.
Therefore, despite Durga's confident assurances, Roland remained vigilant. He turned slightly to address his companions behind him.
"Withdraw from the cave first and wait for me outside."
Bronson and the others raised no objections to Roland's decision.
Tracy muttered a quiet "Be careful" before turning to follow Freddy, who had already turned without hesitation, and Hoby, who visibly relaxed, as they quickly retreated toward the cave entrance.
Though Bronson lingered reluctantly over the runes on the wall, he hurried after them.
In the blink of an eye, the cave, which had moments ago been filled with tension, fell into complete silence.
Suddenly, a raspy, fractured voice echoed through the chamber.
Dry as the grinding of stone against stone, carrying a palpable sense of physical agony, yet strangely interwoven with an inhuman rhythm.
"Ah... humans..."
The voice dripped with undisguised contempt.
"I can smell that pitiful spark of nascent psionic energy in your soul... so crude, so... primitive."
Roland remained expressionless, his gaze sharp and unwavering, offering no response.
Seeing Roland unmoved, the mind flayer's voice continued, laced with condescending arrogance.
"I can sense that you are different from those pitiful, hate-blinded gray-skinned wretches. Your mind is... more orderly. Let's make a deal, shall we?"
"Release me from these filthy iron chains. Their crude construction is an insult to art itself."
"I can grant you true knowledge—the essence of psionic energy, how to leverage the fulcrum of reality's laws... far deeper, far more... magnificent than your meager imagination could ever grasp."
Before the words could fully escape its lips, the mind flayer's body twitched slightly, the iron spikes digging deeper into its flesh. It seemed to want to make a gesture of "generosity," but only caused the chains to cut deeper, drawing more dark purple blood.
Yet it remained unfazed, its dim eyes locked firmly on Roland.
"Think about it, human. Shed the limitations of your fragile flesh and embrace true strength."
"Why serve those doomed to be swept into the dustbin of history? Release me, and you will gain enlightenment beyond mortal comprehension..."
Upon hearing these words, Roland's eyebrow twitched slightly, a flicker of mockery in his eyes.
"Your words, like your current predicament, carry no weight."
As he spoke, he took another step forward.
Roland only came to a slow stop when he was just a few steps away from the mind flayer.
"Enough with your tricks. Knowledge? Strength? These things you speak of, I do desire them."
"But do you truly believe that chained here, your psionic energy completely suppressed, you still have the right to speak of 'bargains'? You are merely a... collectible waiting to be unlocked."
The mind flayer's tentacles twitched slightly, not in anger, but as if flicking away a speck of dust.
"The folly of short-lived races... it never fails to amuse."
Its voice remained dry and fractured, but the earlier emotional fluctuations had completely subsided, leaving only pure, condescending indifference.
"This physical form is irrelevant. Pain is merely a primitive neural signal. Do you think such crude sensations can threaten a citizen of the Overmind? Your comprehension is indeed limited to the fragility of such biological structures."
It didn't even bother to lift its head, merely fixed Roland with its inhuman gaze.
"Death is not an end for us, but a return."
"Your efforts are fundamentally futile. To think you could extract information from my consciousness? Truly... a pathetic delusion."
Roland listened calmly to this emotionless declaration, his face betraying no sign of wavering.
For beings like mind flayers, physical pain held no meaning. Their thought structures, values, and emotions differed so drastically from those of humans and most humanoid races that they were nearly impervious to conventional methods of coercion.
Yet this did not mean they were without weaknesses.
While physical torment might fail to break their will, what about...
the spiritual realm?
the depths of the soul?
He fell silent, his right hand rising steadily.
In the next instant, a wisp of flame flickered into existence at his fingertip.
The cave's temperature remained unchanged, but an invisible, soul-piercing pressure suddenly filled the air.
Ember of Original Sin .
(End of the Chapter)
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