Chapter 183: Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse

Chapter 183: Chapter 183: Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse

Rowan’s fingers paused over the glowing tablet interface, his golden-amber eyes locking onto the third entry.

[Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse]

To an ordinary guild leader, a combat specialist, or an imperial war-mage, this petrified slab of primordial crust might have seemed secondary compared to a dragon’s core or a spatial expansion anchor.

Weapons faded, spatial pockets could be constructed with enough gold and high-tier array masters, and elemental cores were volatile engines that eventually burned through their energy reserves.

But to the founder of Eden International, this was the ultimate strategic force multiplier.

A ten-mile radius of automatic, continuous soil purification and enrichment meant an entire central estate back in Sol-Aethel City could be transformed into a permanent, self-sustaining sanctuary of uncorrupted vitality.

It would passively scrub atmospheric toxicity and mineral slag out of the air before it ever touched the dirt, creating a baseline agricultural sanctuary that wouldn’t require Rowan to manually channel his personal mana twenty-four hours a day.

With this slab embedded beneath his central domain fields, Eden International’s production capacity wouldn’t just double—it would explode, allowing him to cultivate legendary, extinct species like the Silphium on a commercial scale with absolute, 100% purity.

Without a second of hesitation, Rowan pressed his thumb against the runic selection key on the silver tablet, confirming his choice.

A soft, melodic chime rang through the high-security reception chamber. The silver tablet flushed a vibrant green before clearing its display, locking the global database.

The Swiss Council member blinked in subtle surprise, leaning forward slightly as he looked at the confirmed choice on his master console. He had expected the young Imperial prodigy to claim the spatial anchor to expand his storage capacity, or perhaps the dragon core to forge a legendary, frost-attribute divine artifact.

"The Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse..." the elder murmured, a look of profound, genuine admiration dawning across his weathered features. He let out a soft, approving chuckle, shaking his head.

"In my forty years of overseeing the Swiss Royal Vaults, every Grand Champion before you chose weapons, offensive cores, or spatial anchors. You are the first to look at our nation’s primary reserves and choose the foundation of life itself."

"A blade can only slay one enemy at a time, Councilman," Rowan said smoothly, tapping the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat with a calm, discerning smile. "Clean earth feeds generations and bends empires to your table."

"Well said, Grand Champion Vance. Well said indeed," the councilman replied warmly.

He signaled to the two high-tier ward masters. One of the guards turned toward a heavy adamantine safe built into the rear granite wall, placing his hand onto a complex array of multi-tiered runic locks. The heavy metallic tumblers clicked open with a deep, echoing resonance, revealing a velvet-lined silver box bound in anti-magic chains.

The guard carefully brought the box to the desk, disengaging the suppression seals.

The moment the lid lifted an inch, a thick, heavy wave of pure, untamed earth vitality spilled into the chamber. The sterile, cold air of the subterranean vault was instantly replaced by the rich, invigorating scent of rain-washed soil and primordial spring blooms.

Rowan felt his core mana thrum in immediate, harmonious resonance with the slab inside—a thick, slate-grey piece of petrified earth running with glowing, golden veins that pulsed softly like a living heartbeat.

Rowan reached out, his hand gently resting over the velvet box. The moment his domain perception brushed the Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse, the relic seemed to settle, its golden veins dimming into a gentle, welcoming glow as if recognizing a master who understood its true purpose.

Closing the silver box, Rowan stored it directly inside his spatial storage alongside his pristine Silphium Seedling and his Gold Grand Champion Medal.

"The Swiss Confederation honors your victory, Grand Champion," the council member said, standing and offering a deep, respectful bow. "May your harvest reshape the world."

"It already is," Rowan replied softly, returning the bow with quiet, unshakeable confidence.

Turning on his heel, Rowan walked back out of the subterranean reception hall, flanked by his paladin escort. With the ultimate botanical prize in his possession, his domain’s future secured, and the global stage thoroughly conquered, it was time to step back into the daylight and bring his victory home to Sol-Aethel.

***

Emerging from the heavy subterranean vault doors, Rowan stepped back into the polished marble halls of the upper Colosseum complex. The oppressive security arrays gave way to a grand private departure pavilion, where the Sol-Aethel Imperial guard stood in strict, unbroken formation.

At the center of the hall, resting on a high-backed velvet throne, sat Emperor Aurelius.

The sovereign of the Sol-Aethel Empire did not wear his ornate ceremonial regalia; instead, he was draped in deep crimson battle robes etched with shimmering dragon-scale runes. Beside his chair rested his legendary golden broadsword, its pommel humming with a dense, quiet aura of absolute power that distorted the very air around him.

Emperor Aurelius hadn’t remained behind merely to offer congratulations or act as a figurehead escort. In the high-stakes game of global geopolitics, Rowan Vance had just become the single most valuable—and dangerous—living treasure on the planet. Between his 100% purity victory, the sole living specimen of the extinct Silphium, and now the Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse, Rowan represented the future dominance of the Sol-Aethel Empire. To rival superpowers, bitter foreign noble houses, or covert assassin syndicates whose grandmasters had been thoroughly humilated on the global stage, removing Rowan before he reached the safety of Imperial borders was an irresistible temptation.

Aurelius’ presence was a clear, unyielding line drawn in the alpine frost for every foreign eye watching from the shadows: touch him, and face immediate, catastrophic war.

As Rowan approached, the heavy imperial guards snapped to attention, their spears striking the marble floor in flawless unison. Aurelius raised his gaze, his piercing eyes scanning Rowan with deep, genuine satisfaction. Even with the Fragment of the Origin Earth Pulse safely stored inside Rowan’s spatial storage, the Emperor’s transcendent perception could feel the subtle, rich vitality humming around the young harvester.

"It is done, Your Majesty," Rowan said smoothly, offering a polite, respectful bow and lightly tipping the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat.

"You took what was ours by right, Rowan," Emperor Aurelius replied, his voice a low, resonant rumble that echoed off the high vaulted ceilings. A warm, prideful smile broke through his stern demeanor as he rose from his throne, picking up his heavy sheath. "The entire world watched you turn ancient, dead dirt into a miracle today. You have elevated the prestige and soft power of our Empire beyond what twenty war legions could ever accomplish."

Jeremy stepped up beside Rowan, tossing an idle, discerning glance toward the outer glass viewports. Outside, several foreign envoys and shrouded figures from rival superpowers lingered near the transport docks, their eyes locked on the Imperial party with unmistakable tension, desperation, and lingering greed.

"They’re practically drooling, Rowan," Jeremy muttered with a dry chuckle, adjusting his sword belt. "Half the intelligence networks on Earth are probably scrambling to figure out if they can stage an ’accident’ before we cross international airspace."

"Let them try," Emperor Aurelius said softly.

The Emperor didn’t raise his voice, nor did he draw his blade. He simply expanded a microscopic fraction of his imperial soul-force. An invisible, suffocating wave of pure, sovereign aura rippled outward through the Colosseum halls, causing the lingering foreign spies to instantly freeze in place. Their breath hitched, their faces turned pale, and cold sweat poured down their necks under the crushing weight of an absolute powerhouse.

The message was delivered without a single word spoken: Rowan Vance was under the personal, unconditional protection of the Crown.

Rowan smiled calmly, a subtle, calculating glint in his golden-amber eyes as he watched the foreign operatives back away into the crowd. "They wouldn’t dare strike while Your Majesty stands before them. And by the time we land in Sol-Aethel City, our domain will be completely impenetrable."

"Then let us depart," Aurelius declared, gesturing toward the massive imperial flagship resting on the alpine launchpad, its runic engines warming up with a deep, thunderous hum. "Your team is waiting, Grand Champion. It is time to bring our victory home."