Chapter 446 - 422: Ascending to Godhood?

Chapter 446: Chapter 422: Ascending to Godhood?

"Mr. Roland? Mr. Roland? Are you all right?"

A slightly urgent call grew louder, accompanied by the sound of light footsteps, shattering the deathly silence of the camp.

Before the voice faded, a lean, agile figure appeared at the edge of Roland’s vision. It was the Zor Elf Scout who had led him here.

His pale red eyes, adapted to the gloom of the Dark Nether Realm, held a hint of subtle anxiety as they quickly scanned the blood-soaked area.

"I’m here."

Roland replied calmly.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it reached the other’s ears clearly.

Hearing the response, the Zor Elf Scout immediately hurried over, following the sound.

When he saw Roland was unharmed, his breathing as steady as ever, the scout’s tense shoulders relaxed imperceptibly, and he let out a soft sigh of relief.

However, before he could fully exhale, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to his surroundings.

The next moment, his entire body went rigid.

Although he had already come to understand the true extent of this human’s extraordinary Power during the brutal battle against the Surface Elves, what he saw now still surpassed his imagination.

This once-chaotic Caveman camp had now been transformed into a domain of death.

Dozens of Caveman corpses lay scattered on the ground in various poses, every last one of them lifeless.

On their hideous faces, most still wore the blank or terrified expressions they had in their final moments.

The entire camp was frighteningly silent. Only the faint light from the glowing fungi on the cavern walls cast eerie, flickering shadows across the bodies.

Individually, these Cavemen were quite weak, but when they moved in groups of dozens or even hundreds, their destructive capability, bolstered by simple coordination and sheer numbers, was not to be underestimated.

Even a similarly-sized, well-trained unit of Zor Elf Warriors would have to proceed with caution, inevitably getting drawn into a difficult fight that could result in casualties.

But this human before him...

The Zor Elf Scout’s gaze returned to Roland, filled with unconcealed astonishment.

Not only was he completely unscathed, but his simple clothes were also free of a single drop of blood or speck of dirt.

He was so clean he looked as if he had just returned from a leisurely stroll, not a bloody massacre.

The respect and fear in his heart climbed to a new height.

’Not a sound...’

The Scout muttered to himself, his keen Zor instincts immediately picking up on more details.

There were no signs of a fierce struggle in the camp, no scratches from clashing weapons, no scorch marks from exploding Magic.

Most of the Cavemen looked as if they had been killed instantly, caught completely off guard, without even putting up a meaningful struggle.

’Mr. Roland... just how did he kill them?’

The question coiled around his mind like a venomous snake.

’Was it assassination, moving like a phantom in the shadows?’

’Was it some kind of wide-ranging yet incredibly precise lethal Magic?’

’Or was it Swordsmanship so fast it defied comprehension?’

Whichever it was, the answer proved just how terrifyingly efficient the methods of this seemingly peaceful human were.

Roland took in the Zor Elf Scout’s reaction but offered no explanation, simply stating flatly,

"The trouble here is dealt with. Let’s head back."

Hearing this, the Scout immediately collected himself and bowed his head respectfully.

"Yes, Mr. Roland."

He took one last look at the deathly still camp, searing the image into his mind before turning silently to lead the way for Roland.

The journey back was smooth and uneventful.

As his Power gradually returned to its peak, Roland’s mood relaxed for the first time in a while.

As for the recent battle with the Cavemen...

Although there were many of them, their individual strength was far too weak. For the current Roland, the one-sided slaughter was hardly worth analyzing.

The only slight regret was that after he personally finished off the group of Cavemen, the [Plundering] Trait in his body activated instantly but yielded no valuable loot.

All he could see were the crude bone clubs and Stone Axes in the Cavemen’s hands, along with piles of musty bones and junk in the camp—all completely useless scrap.

Apparently, deep in the "souls" of these ignorant creatures, there was nothing that could be considered "precious" or "of exceptional value."

Therefore, apart from fulfilling the prerequisite to become a [Wanderer], clearing out this group of Cavemen brought Roland no material gain.

However, he had already achieved the main purpose of his trip.

Feeling the [Shadow Dance Form] Trait from his new Profession and the wonderful boons from multiple Professional Resonances flowing through his body, Roland felt no sense of loss.

’That’s right...’

As his thoughts drifted, Roland recalled the scene of his victory over Corellon’s avatar.

Corellon, the avatar of the Elf Main God, had undoubtedly been defeated by him head-on.

According to the description of the [Plundering] Trait, corresponding loot should have appeared.

And yet...

Roland frowned slightly, carefully retracing his memories of that time.

Although he had fallen into a state of extreme weakness from overexertion after the battle, the scene was clearly seared into the depths of his consciousness.

When Corellon’s avatar dispersed, it didn’t leave behind a body or a Relic like an ordinary creature. Instead, it vanished without a trace, melting away silently like snow in spring, leaving no physical evidence behind.

And at that time, the only change that had occurred in his entire being was...

With a thought, while maintaining some idle chatter with the Zor Elf Scout leading the way, Roland silently called up his Professional Panel.

His eyes quickly scanned past his basic Attributes and Profession information, finally moving down to freeze on a section he had previously overlooked, but which now seemed a little different.

[Faith: Self]

[Faith Resonance: 34%]

The change in this value was quite intriguing.

Before, after successfully condensing the [Primordial Core], his Power had increased by leaps and bounds, but his [Faith Resonance] had only risen from the single digits to twelve percent.

However, right after defeating Corellon’s avatar, this value had suddenly skyrocketed.

What was even more baffling was that during his subsequent months of recuperation, the Resonance had continued to grow steadily, only slowing its ascent a few days ago to finally settle at the current thirty-four percent.

’Perhaps the [Plundering] Trait didn’t fail to work... but has already worked.’

’It’s just that the form of the loot was beyond conventional understanding.’

At this thought, a bold hypothesis formed in Roland’s mind.

’What is Corellon’s most precious possession?’

’Is it His Authority as one of the Deities?’

’Is it His vast Divine Power?’

’Or is it the "Divine Origin" that sustains the faith of the Elf Race?’

Roland stared at the "34%" value, his eyes profound.

’If what was "Plundered" from defeating Corellon’s avatar wasn’t a physical object, but something more abstract, more fundamental...’

’For example, a portion of the concepts of faith, fragments of Divine Attribute, or even the authority to interfere with the world’s Rules that originally belonged to, or were "represented" by, Corellon?’

’This power was forcibly Stripped and captured by the [Plundering] Trait, and because of its intangible nature, it ultimately merged with the most compatible Domain...’

’...the [Faith: Self] system.’

’...which led to the abnormal spike in Resonance.’

’And the slowly increasing Resonance during my recovery might be the manifestation of my own self-belief gradually digesting and absorbing this plundered "divine sustenance."’

’So, it’s not that there was no loot?’

Roland slowly furrowed his brow.

’Rather, the loot itself took the form of an increase in "Faith Resonance." Corellon’s "treasure" was a part of his Divine Origin and the foundation of his faith.’

If this speculation was correct, then the power and uniqueness of the [Plundering] Trait had once again surpassed his expectations.

It could not only Plunder tangible treasures but could even touch the intangible, formless Domain of the divine.

He just didn’t know what kind of changes would occur when this "Faith Resonance" reached an even higher level, or even one hundred percent.

’Could it be... apotheosis?’

Temporarily burying this discovery and conjecture in his heart, Roland looked up. His gaze swept over the eternally unchanging stone dome of the Dark Nether Realm as he followed the silent, respectful Zor Elf’s figure, steadily making his way back toward the camp.

Just as he stepped through the entrance to the Zor Camp, which was constructed from giant fungi and rock, a coarse, raspy shout mixed with the unique echo of the underground tunnels reached Roland’s ears.

"Hey! Rudolph! Where’d you run off to?"

Before the words had even faded, a strong, pungent stench of alcohol washed over them, breaking the relatively crisp air of the camp.

Following the voice, he saw Duraga staggering toward him.

His signature, thick-braided beard swung with his movements, and his dark face was flushed from drinking.

The Gray Dwarf leader was carrying a nearly empty black clay wineskin, grumbling incessantly.

"...This stuff the Zor brew tastes no different than watered-down moss juice! It’s so bland it’s a joke! Can’t even warm your throat. Utterly boring!"

Roland stopped and gave the approaching Zor Elf Scout a slight nod, dismissing him.

The Scout understood, gave a respectful bow, and then silently melted into the camp’s shadows.

"Just went out to stretch my legs."

Roland then turned to the Gray Dwarf, calmly and simply explaining where he had been.

Hearing this, Duraga’s eyes, still sharp despite his drunken haze, scanned Roland up and down before he broke into a grin.

"Ha! Looks like you’ve recovered well, you rascal!"

He clapped Roland hard on the shoulder with enough force to make an ordinary person stumble.

"So, what are your plans now? You gonna stay here?"

Without waiting for a reply, he vigorously shook his wineskin and spoke in a tone laced with both alcohol and a measure of seriousness.

"Don’t worry. Even though you might not remember your past, that old coot Duadeng is definitely one of us, completely trustworthy. If you decide to stay, he’ll for sure take good care of you."

Hearing these words, Roland was silent for a moment before finally shaking his head gently.