Chapter 464 - 438: The Return! A Crisis Emerges

Chapter 464: Chapter 438: The Return! A Crisis Emerges

As his fingertips gently brushed over the exquisite circular hole on the belt, Roland could clearly feel that something was missing.

This suit of Armor was like an intricate clock tower, structurally complete but cut off from its power source, or a supercar with a perfect engine but an empty gas tank. It lay dormant, waiting for the day it would be truly awakened.

’If... I could find a suitable Power Core to set inside...’

His imagination began to run wild.

Then, this Armor would do far more than just provide defense.

Like the gear of the Rusted Knights, it might greatly enhance his Power and speed, perhaps generate a continuous Energy Shield, or even unlock some unknown special abilities.

Things like short-range flight, optical camouflage, or an Energy Weapon System integrated into the Armor.

He imagined himself fully armed, clad in shimmering armor that surged with power, sweeping across the battlefield unopposed. Even with his temperament, Roland couldn’t help but yearn for such a future.

This thought immediately led him to a possible solution.

Although his [Plundering] Trait hadn’t yielded any decent loot when he’d cleared out those Rusted Knights, he had instructed Duraga and his Gray Dwarf subordinates to salvage any weapons and Armor that weren’t too badly damaged.

Those artifacts were bound to contain still-functional Power Cores.

’When I get back, I’ll see if I can salvage a few intact cores from the spoils. I’ll have to test if they’re compatible with this Armor...’

His mind made up, he glanced again at the majestic figure reflected on the metal shelving and nodded in satisfaction.

Acquiring this suit of Armor had solved one of his most pressing problems.

His weapons had always been more than adequate. From his initial Secret Silver Longsword to Bright Moon after its Awakening, both could be considered Divine Soldiers.

His defensive gear, however, had always been a weak point.

In the face of increasingly intense battles, ordinary armor was not only useless but had become a hindrance.

And forging a custom suit from rare materials was easier said than done.

He had originally intended to purchase Mithril to forge a suit of Armor during his trip to the Rock Kingdom, but a series of subsequent incidents had forced him to abandon the plan.

He never expected that now, in these forgotten ancient ruins, he would so coincidentally acquire a suit of Armor that seemed tailor-made for him.

It was a godsend.

With his equipment problem largely solved, Roland’s thoughts turned to another of his weaknesses.

His lack of effective long-range attacks.

Although he had mastered some Magic, they were mostly Low Tier Spells of the First and Second Rings. While they had some surprising uses in a supportive role, their lethality was sorely lacking against powerful foes.

’It’s a shame I didn’t find a Hand Cannon here like the one Hagry used...’

Roland felt a twinge of regret at the thought.

The instantaneous burst of power from the "Corrosive Hand Cannon" had left a deep impression on him.

Unfortunately, Hagry’s weapon had already been in poor condition. After firing its final shot at him, it had been completely destroyed and was no longer usable.

’Oh well. The haul from this expedition has already far exceeded my expectations.’

Roland reined in his thoughts.

’I’ve been gone for so long. I should head back before Avril and the others start to worry.’

With that, he took an item from his pouch: the [Secret Imprisonment Dice], covered in mysterious Engravings, which he had obtained from the Land of Mist.

He skillfully manipulated the die’s faces. A moment later, with a faint spatial ripple, a small, unstable rift—just large enough for one person to pass through—opened in the air before him.

The Magic Restriction on whatever was sealed inside the die was still beyond his ability to safely break.

To avoid destroying the contents by trying to brute-force the seal, Roland was temporarily using it as an extremely convenient portable storage space.

The shimmering spatial rift had just stabilized, and Roland was about to toss the bundle of "scrap" he had packed into it.

A hoarse, shrill, yet strangely alluring female voice suddenly stabbed out from the depths of the rift, echoing through the silent repository.

"Let me out! You damned, heartless human! I can smell it... the scent of freedom! Please... just for a moment..."

The voice belonged to Celeste.

She was the Succubus whose head Roland had severed, but who hadn’t completely perished thanks to his [Plundering] Trait.

Seeing as she had no immediate use, Roland had unceremoniously tossed her head into the chaotic space within the [Secret Imprisonment Dice]. He hadn’t expected her to still be able to sense when he opened it after all this time.

But Roland’s movements didn’t falter in the slightest, as if he had merely heard the insignificant whistling of the wind.

With a flick of his wrist, the bundle of junk flew precisely into the rift.

"No! Wait! I can tell you secrets! About the Abyss, about the ancient ones! I know you desire Power..."

Celeste’s voice grew more piercing, laced with desperate pleading and a faint, venomous Curse.

Expressionless, Roland flicked his finger across the [Secret Imprisonment Dice].

The memory of being cursed by a Demon in the Golden Valley Kingdom still bothered him.

He had no desire to be afflicted again with a Curse that could trigger so suddenly, ignoring factors like power, space, and distance.

Thus, unless it was absolutely necessary, he had no desire to speak with her any more than he had to.

Even if the Succubus was now nothing more than a head.

In an instant, as if a signal had been cut, Celeste’s shrill wails and tempting promises stopped abruptly, vanishing without a trace.

The spatial rift closed without a sound, and the surroundings returned to dead silence.

Tress’s tiny body shuddered. She flew back to Roland’s shoulder, patting her little chest, her heart still pounding with fear.

"No matter how many times I hear that Succubus’s voice, it’s still so creepy and sinister..."

Roland gently stroked her trembling wings, his voice calm.

"It’s nothing but the impotent rage of a captured failure. Pay it no mind."

His reassurance was brief but effective. Tress nodded emphatically, seemingly much more at ease.

With the junk dealt with, Roland’s attention returned to himself.

This suit of Armor was undeniably majestic and its defense was astonishing, but it was also far too conspicuous for everyday wear.

He recalled the instantaneous speed at which the Armor had covered his body, and an idea formed in his mind.

The best course of action would be to keep it retracted during normal activity and instantly deploy it when battle was imminent.

’So... how do I retract it?’

The moment the thought surfaced in his mind, the subtle connection deep in his soul between him and the bracer resonated gently again, as if answering his question.

This strange sensation gave Roland pause. He then tried to visualize the bracer’s form in his mind and project the intent to "return."

Almost the instant his intent took hold, the dark silver Armor covering his entire body seemed to lose its physical form.

Like living mercury at low tide, or a phantom being erased by an invisible hand, it began to dissolve and retract from every part of his body simultaneously.

The flowing, ethereal blue pathways of light dimmed and receded.

The entire process was fluid, swift, and silent.

In the blink of an eye, the majestic, full-body Armor had vanished completely, leaving only his original clothes and the archaic, dark-silver bracer that was once again wrapped quietly around his left wrist.

’How incredible...’

Roland stroked the cool bracer on his wrist, a curious light glinting in his eyes.

Just what kind of legendary figure could have created an artifact so miraculous it could even resonate with its wearer’s soul?

Setting this new mystery aside for the time being, he lingered no longer.

"Let’s go, Tress. It’s time to head back."

He called out to her and, with the Pikachu in tow, quickly made his way back to the upper levels, following the path from memory.

By the time he leaped out from the edge of the massive sinkhole and set foot on the surface of the Aiselon wastelands, it was already deep into the night.

Overhead, the eternally murky "Curtain of Heaven" had taken on a deeper, dark-purple hue in the night, obscuring nearly all starlight.

Only a few unusually bright and strangely colored "stars" cast weak, distorted patches of light from behind the curtain, barely sketching the jagged silhouettes of broken hills and grotesque rock formations on the land below.

A cold wind howled across the wastes, kicking up dust that smelled of rust and whimpering like the whispers of vengeful spirits.

From the distant darkness, the occasional unidentifiable and blood-curdling howl echoed out, adding another layer of unknown danger and oppressive silence to the desolate continent.

Without him realizing it, the long underground exploration had taken up the entire day.

He looked around. The thick darkness was nearly absolute, so profound he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. It enveloped everything like viscous ink.

Although his [Touch of Profound Darkness] and [Shadow Dance Form] Traits allowed his vision and Perception to remain perfectly clear and unhindered in such extreme Darkness, his rational mind told him that trekking across this completely unfamiliar and perilous wasteland in the dead of night was tantamount to offering himself up to the countless unknown dangers lurking in the shadows.

’Perhaps... it would be more prudent to retreat to the vicinity of the ruin’s entrance, find a relatively safe place to rest for the night, and then return to Rusted Town after daybreak?’

The thought had just formed in his mind when Tress’s urgent, panicked cry shattered his reverie.

"Roland! Quick, look over there!"

Her tiny body was tense, her wings beating rapidly, and her slender finger was pointed sharply toward a specific direction in the wasteland.

Roland’s heart clenched. Without a moment’s hesitation, he tapped his toes lightly on the ground.

Driven by the immense power of the [Source Law Engine], his leap was so light it seemed to defy gravity. He shot into the sky like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Blood-red Fighting Spirit swirled around him—not for an attack, but to cleverly distort the surrounding air currents, allowing him to hover briefly in midair. His field of view widened dramatically.

He immediately gazed into the distance, following the direction Tress was pointing.

There, on the distant horizon, in a direction that should have been swallowed by endless darkness, extremely unstable flashes of Energy light flickered incessantly.

The light was not a single color. At times, it would burst into a cloud of murky, spectral green; at others, it would erupt into wide, frantic flashes of crimson or dark purple, exuding a violent and ominous aura.

Even from such a great distance, the night wind faintly carried the sound of muffled explosions and a kind of...

...a cacophony of sharp, frenzied shrieks and roars.

Vaguely visible beneath that sky, huge, twisted Shadows were moving about, and small points of light shot off in all directions like a disturbed swarm of bees. A battle of extreme Chaos and intensity was clearly underway.

The terrain’s silhouette, faintly visible in the occasional brilliant flash of an explosion...

...was precisely the location of Rusted Town.

Seeing this, Roland hovered in midair, his brow deeply furrowed.