Chapter 427 - 410: The Minstrel’s Revelation

Chapter 427: Chapter 410: The Minstrel’s Revelation

The booming explosions of Magic and shocks of Energy from far behind him were clear proof of the fierce battle between Duadeng and Tula.

But Roland had no intention of looking back. He just clenched his jaw and poured all his focus into his legs, sprinting with all his might along the path Philis showed him toward the entrance to the Dark Nether Realm.

He could clearly feel the breathing of Galvis, who was slumped on his back, growing ever lighter and fainter, like a thread about to snap.

With every brief pause, every ragged gasp, Roland’s heart sank a little deeper.

His keen Perception, which he now almost hated, was like the most precise ruler, mercilessly measuring the rapid drain of his dear friend’s Life Energy.

’There’s no time...’

A cold thought echoed in his mind.

At this rate, the Minstrel’s last spark of life would be extinguished long before they reached safety.

Yet, however slim the Hope, Roland never gave up in his heart.

Duraga had mentioned using some special method to seal the soul of one of "Rudolph’s" important friends within the Moonlight Longsword.

Ever since obtaining the Bright Moon, Roland had tried countless times to perceive or communicate with it, but he had never detected any so-called Soul Mark within the blade.

But his time with Duraga had taught him that the seemingly rough Gray Dwarf was not one for idle boasts.

This meant the Gray Dwarf leader might truly have a way to hold onto a departing soul, or even...

’Reverse the outcome of death?’

Wasn’t Duraga himself someone who had returned from a thousand years in the past through some as-yet-ununderstood means?

He was the best proof of it.

Although Duraga had never directly admitted or explained this, as long as there was a sliver of a chance to save Galvis—no matter how faint, no matter how illogical—Roland was willing to try with everything he had.

Amidst these chaotic thoughts, a Spark suddenly flashed through his mind, bringing with it a guess that stunned even him.

’Wait... the soul of the friend Duraga said was sealed in the Bright Moon... could it be...?’

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Roland couldn’t help but turn his head, his gaze falling upon the familiar face on his back—aged by the loss of life, his breath now as faint as a silken thread.

’...It’s Galvis, isn’t it?’

Noticing Roland’s gaze, Galvis, slumped on his back, struggled to lift his head and coughed heavily a few times.

He forced a deliberately casual smile onto his pale face and spoke in a weak, teasing tone.

"Roland... I don’t think I have much time left... *cough, cough*... Why don’t you use what’s left to tell me how you got tangled up with those Gray Dwarfs, and how you found that legendary Shell Ship?"

He paused, his breath growing even fainter, yet he still forced a light chuckle.

"Although... in my current state, I’m afraid I can’t offer any decent stories or intel... in exchange, like I used to..."

"Don’t say that, Galvis."

Roland’s voice was steady and firm, cutting through the surrounding chaos and the sense of crisis behind them.

"Later, you’ll have a long, long time to hear me tell all about these adventures, especially... about ’Rudolph.’"

The name "Rudolph" was like a shot of adrenaline, instantly injected into Galvis’s nearly extinguished Fire of Life.

The Minstrel, who had been drowsy with unfocused eyes, suddenly snapped them wide open. Even his breathing seemed to become smoother, his tone filled with incredible excitement as his voice rose slightly.

"Yes! Yes! Roland! ’Rudolph’! Tell me, how did you get involved with that legendary hero? This is... this is more astonishing than the most bizarre epic!"

Seeing his friend temporarily rally due to his instinctive love for legendary tales, Roland felt a slight sense of relief. He was just about to detail his own complex theories about "Rudolph" and himself.

Then, in the next moment, his brow furrowed sharply.

His keen Perception, which extended outward like invisible antennae to guard his surroundings, felt as if it had been viciously stabbed by a red-hot, poisoned needle and snapped back violently.

At the same time, an indescribable, vast, and terrifying aura—like an invisible shackle—pressed down on him with precise, heavy weight, locking onto him completely.

And on this chaotic battlefield, there was only one being who could possess such an aura...

Realizing that the aura locked onto him was rapidly approaching, Roland’s gaze hardened, and he immediately called out in a low voice to Philis, who was leading the way.

"Miss Philis."

His voice was hushed, but exceptionally clear.

"I have something I must take care of. Could I ask you to take my friend here safely back to your camp and find Duraga... the loud-talking Gray Dwarf leader."

Philis heard him and nodded immediately, without any hesitation.

"I understand, Lord Roland. Please, be careful."

Receiving her affirmation, Roland hesitated no longer.

He carefully lowered Galvis from his back, but the movement startled the Minstrel, who was still lost in the topic of "Rudolph."

It wasn’t until his feet touched the ground that Galvis’s sluggish, weakened mind suddenly realized something was wrong.

He grabbed Roland’s arm, his fingers trembling slightly from the effort, his voice urgent.

"Roland? What are you going to do?"

Roland gave him a reassuring smile, his tone light.

"Don’t worry, I’m just going to meet an ’old friend.’"

"Don’t joke around!"

Galvis immediately retorted, his voice hoarse with agitation.

"How could you possibly have a frien—"

He couldn’t finish his sentence. Roland had already deftly placed him on Philis’s sturdy back.

The Minstrel clutched futilely at Roland’s sleeve. After being lifted by Philis, he continued to struggle, twisting his head around to shout anxiously.

"Hey! Hey! Roland! Damn it! What are you going to do? Answer me!"

But Roland only gave him one deep look before resolutely turning and striding in the opposite direction.

Watching Roland’s figure quickly recede into the dim woods, Galvis coughed violently in his agitation, an indescribable sense of despair and helplessness welling up in his heart.

Just then, he suddenly felt a strange warmth from the spot against his chest, as if he were carrying a piece of warm jade that was gradually awakening.

He frowned in confusion and reached a hand into his coat with some effort. After fumbling for a moment, he pulled out the thick notebook with *Mortal Hero: Roland’s Epic* written on its cover.

At this moment, however, the notebook was emitting a soft, steady glow.

The light wasn’t blinding, but it carried an indescribable, warm, and ancient aura.

"This is..."

A flicker of incredulous surprise flashed in Galvis’s cloudy eyes as a distant memory surfaced.

"Is this... what Teacher Visna once mentioned? A Minstrel’s ’Revelation’?"

Before he could fully comprehend the situation, something even more astonishing happened.

The notebook in his hand suddenly began flipping on its own, its heavy pages turning rapidly backward with a RUSTLE RUSTLE RUSTLE, as if controlled by an invisible hand.

A moment later, the flipping stopped on the very last page of the book.

The soft glow that had enveloped the entire notebook began to converge and condense inward like flowing water, finally gathering and focusing at the bottom of the final page.

It focused on the blank space where he had personally signed his name: "Galvis."

......

......

Roland raised his head, his gaze calm as he looked at the figure suspended in midair, bathed in the glow of the distorted Barrier. He took a slow, deep breath, drawing the surrounding air, thick with the stench of blood and scorching, into his lungs.

His earlier Perception hadn’t been wrong. In fact, he had underestimated the power of the being before him.

Judging by this oppressive, almost tangible aura alone, the Elf named Tula was on the same Energy level as Morne—as vast as an abyss, and just as unfathomable.

However, something else weighed even more heavily on Roland’s heart...

He could clearly perceive, mixed within Tula’s immense aura, an extremely faint yet undeniable and unique "essence."

This essence was not unfamiliar to him.

He had experienced this quality that transcended the mortal world before—when he met Shire in the eternal chasm of Darkness, and when he encountered Lodestar during the solemn rituals of the Fiery Sun Church.

It was...

the aura that belonged only to the Gods.

Although on Tula this aura was still muddled and impure, as if Authority from different sources had been forcibly fused together, it was undeniably present.

’Divine Attribute...’

Realizing this, Roland slowly lowered his stance, his center of gravity dropping, like a cheetah poised in a desperate situation, ready to pounce on a tiger.

At the same time, his right hand rose steadily and slowly, precisely closing around the hilt of the Moonlight Sword at his waist.

The cold touch from his palm brought a sliver of calm to his turbulent emotions.

But Tula, suspended in the air, was in no hurry to act.

He didn’t even look at Roland. Instead, he raised his indifferent eyes slightly, gazed into the distance, and let out a long sigh.

"That must be... Mr. Galvis, isn’t it? Alas... it seems the candle of his life has flickered to its end. What a pity..."

At this, Tula sighed softly.

A perfectly timed, perfectly measured expression of regret appeared on his flawless face, as if he were a merciful Monarch mourning the passing of a subject.

"Speaking of which, if Mr. Galvis had been more ’cooperative’ back then, I wouldn’t have been forced to use such crude methods to obtain what I needed."

"After all, what real impact could a good-for-nothing Minstrel have on me? His foolishness only hastened his own end."

After saying all this, he finally turned his gaze to the battle-ready Roland, his tone still gentle.

"So, what about you, human?"

"Are you prepared to willingly ’share’ the favor the Gods have bestowed upon you, allowing me to take it in a more ’gentle’ manner, or..."

He paused deliberately, as if giving Roland time to think.

But the vast, imposing pressure around him was silently escalating, like an invisible shackle tightening with every passing moment.

"...will you choose the more painful path, one whose end is already set in stone, and offer futile resistance?"

The final sound of the word "resistance" had not yet faded...

SHING!

A cold, brilliant flash of light suddenly tore through the heavy air.

There was no warning, no omen, not even a wisp of killing intent.

Roland’s figure seemed to vanish in the space between heartbeats.

One moment he was in a low stance, and the next, his drawn Moonlight Longsword was already lunging forward with unstoppable resolve.

Its tip ripped through space, aimed straight for Tula’s throat.