Chapter 396 - 380: Bewitchment

Chapter 396: Chapter 380: Bewitchment

"Ugh... it’s not the first time I’ve seen this thing..."

The brief silence was broken by the petite Pikachu.

Tress flapped her transparent wings, hovering a safe distance from the Heartstealer. She wrinkled her small nose, her voice dripping with undisguised contempt.

"But every time I see it, I think..."

She paused, seemingly searching for the right words.

"It’s just so ugly! The slimy tentacles, and... the gooey skin..."

At her side, Hobbit nodded in agreement. He tightened his grip on his longsword and muttered,

"Y-Yes, Miss Tress is right. It’s really... not a pretty sight."

As he spoke, the Half-Elf’s gaze drifted to the Heartstealer.

Twisted limbs and spiked chains, glowing faintly, were embedded deep in its flesh.

Even though he knew it was imprisoned, Hobbit couldn’t help but gulp and subconsciously take two steps back.

The moment Beastman Freddy got a clear look at the Heartstealer, however, his rugged face filled with gravity.

His broad shoulders tensed slightly, and his thick fingers unconsciously drifted to the handle of the war axe at his waist. A low, wary rumble sounded from his throat.

He had never seen a Heartstealer before, but his beastman instincts still picked up on the extremely dangerous aura emanating from its body.

This instantly put him on high alert, as if facing a powerful foe.

But while the others had their varied reactions, Bronson paid the horrifying creature in the center of the cave almost no mind.

His attention was utterly captivated by the intricate, ancient silver runes engraved on the surrounding rock walls.

He moved closer to the wall, his finger slowly tracing the path of the runes in the air as he clicked his tongue in amazement.

"Marvelous... Just marvelous!"

The scholar muttered to himself, his eyes burning with fervor.

"Look at the structural stability and the way the Energy flows... This is an ancient technique, at least a thousand years old..."

But in stark contrast to his partners’ reactions—disgust, fear, or focus—

from the moment Roland stepped into the cave, his eyes were like the sharpest of falcons, locked firmly on the heavily imprisoned Heartstealer at its center.

Experience told him that when facing a creature like the Heartstealer, even the slightest carelessness could lead to destructive consequences.

The life-and-death battle at Wailing Gorge was still vivid in his memory, and he knew better than anyone the cunning and terror of these Spiritual Masters.

Their deadliest weapons had never been their physical claws and fangs, but the indefensible power that struck directly at the mind.

So, despite Duraga’s confident assurances, he didn’t relax in the slightest. Instead, he turned his head slightly and spoke to his companions behind him.

"All of you, get out of the cave. Wait for me outside."

Bronson and the others had no objection to Roland’s decision.

Tress muttered a quiet "be careful," then followed Freddy, who turned without hesitation, and a visibly relieved Hobbit, quickly retreating toward the cave entrance.

Although Bronson was reluctant to leave the runes on the wall, he still quickened his pace to catch up.

In the blink of an eye, the cave, which had held a flicker of life just moments before, fell completely silent.

Just then, a hoarse, fractured voice suddenly rang out.

It was as dry as rocks scraping against each other, carrying an obvious physical pain, yet it was also strangely blended with a certain inhuman cadence.

"Heh... Human..."

The voice carried an unconcealed disdain.

"I can smell the pathetic, newly sprouted Spiritual Spark in your soul... So crude. So... primitive..."

Roland remained expressionless, his gaze sharp. He didn’t respond.

Seeing Roland unmoved, the Heartstealer’s voice continued, laced with an arrogance that was almost charitable.

"I can sense you’re different from those pathetic, hate-blinded, gray-skinned dregs. Your mind is more... orderly. So, how about we make a deal?"

"Release me from these filthy chains. Their crude construction is a blasphemy against art."

"I can grant you true knowledge—of the essence of Spiritual Energy, of how to leverage the fulcrums of the Laws of reality... something far deeper, far more... magnificent than your barren imagination could ever grasp."

Before it could finish, the Heartstealer’s spike-impaled body twitched slightly, as if attempting a ’generous’ gesture. The movement only caused the chains to cut deeper, and more dark purple blood seeped out.

But it paid this no mind, its dim eyes still fixed on Roland.

"Think about it, human. Shed the limitations of your fragile shell and embrace true Power."

"Why throw your life away for losers destined for the trash heap of history? Release me, and you will receive an enlightenment that transcends the mundane..."

Hearing this, Roland raised an eyebrow, a flicker of mockery in his eyes.

"Your words are as unconvincing as your current predicament."

He stepped forward as he spoke.

He didn’t stop until he was only a few steps away from the Heartstealer.

"Drop the act. Knowledge? Power? It’s true, I desire those things."

"But do you really think that you—pinned down by these chains, your Spiritual Energy completely sealed—are in any position to be talking about a ’deal’? You’re nothing but a... collection piece, waiting to be pried open."

The Heartstealer’s tentacles stirred slightly, not with anger, but more as if brushing away a speck of dust.

"The ignorance of the short-lived races... it’s always so... amusing."

Its voice was still dry and fractured, but the previous emotional fluctuations had completely subsided, leaving only a pure, condescending coldness.

"This flesh is irrelevant. Pain is merely a low-level nerve signal. Do you think this can threaten a child of the Main Brain? Your comprehension is, as I thought, limited to such fragile biological structures."

It didn’t even attempt to raise its head, merely staring at Roland with its inhuman pupils.

"For us, death is not an end, but a return."

"Your efforts are, by their very nature, futile. You hope to extract information from my consciousness? A truly... pathetic delusion."

Roland listened quietly to this dispassionate declaration, his expression unwavering.

’For a being like the Heartstealer, physical pain is indeed meaningless.’

’Their thought structures, values, and emotions are completely different from those of humans and even most humanoid races. They’re extremely difficult to coerce by conventional means.’

’However, that doesn’t mean they’re without weaknesses.’

’Physical torture might not be enough to break the will of a being like this, but... what about its Spirit? What about the depths of its soul?’

He said no more, steadily raising his right hand.

The next moment, a flicker of flame leaped silently from his fingertip.

The temperature in the cave did not rise, but an invisible pressure, one that struck deep into the soul, suddenly filled the air.

Ashes of Original Sin.