Chapter 509 - 475: Exposed

Chapter 509: Chapter 475: Exposed

"Morne Gore?"

Hearing the name, Roland slowly furrowed his brow.

A familiar name was suddenly stirred from the depths of his memory.

The dignified and wise king of the Golden Valley Kingdom, King Morne.

’Could it be... this child is...’

The moment the thought surfaced, Roland almost instinctively dismissed it.

The recent space-time loop was bizarre enough to make Roland feel anything was possible in this strange land. Even so, this particular guess still seemed too...

Absurd.

King Morne was his contemporary.

Even if that Monarch had used his immense Power to extend his lifespan, there was still an almost astronomical expanse of time between then and the current year, 490 of the Crystal Calendar.

This wasn’t a matter of mere decades or centuries, but a change on the scale of entire civilized eras.

Besides, to encounter an acquaintance’s "past" during a chance exploration...

The sheer theatricality of the coincidence surpassed even the strangeness of the time loop itself, hinting at a deliberate, almost choreographed design.

As Roland was lost in this somewhat self-deprecating reverie, the pad of his finger, which he was using to wipe away the boy’s tears, felt an extremely subtle, almost illusory, strange sensation.

It was difficult to describe at first.

It wasn’t a change in physical sensation.

The roughness of the boy’s skin and the slight chill of his tears were still distinct.

It was more like...

A ripple in his sense of existence.

It was as if his fingertip was no longer just touching an "image"—observable but not interactive, separated by an invisible curtain—but was beginning to make contact with some kind of more "solid" foundation.

The change was extremely faint and fleeting, like the first, almost invisible ripple from a pebble dropped into a deep pool.

Roland couldn’t even be sure if it was his imagination, or a sensory error caused by the heat and thick smoke at the edge of the blaze.

However, what followed was an even more indescribable feeling of "immersion."

The state of detachment he’d felt before, as if viewing the entire world through a pane of transparent glass—clear, yet always at a "distance"—seemed to have...

Loosened, just a fraction.

The acrid smell of burning, the soot, and the scent of despair, which had previously only been "perceived," now seemed to take on a more tangible "weight," seeping more directly into his nostrils and faintly irritating his throat.

The cries of the crowd and the cold commands of the gray-uniformed men seemed to lose their muffled, "background noise" quality, becoming more piercing and emotionally stirring.

All of this happened in an extremely subtle and slow manner, like an iceberg melting beneath the surface of the water.

Roland couldn’t clearly grasp the nature of the change, but a thread of instinctual alarm and confusion quietly rose within him.

It seemed that some established "Rule," rooted in this place’s space-time, had undergone an extremely subtle...

Shift.

But Morne, mired in Fear and anxiety, was completely unaware of Roland’s momentary stun or the flash of astonishment in his eyes.

His large, dark eyes were brimming with tears. He could only convey his silent plea through the hands gripping Roland’s sleeve, repeatedly murmuring.

"Please... sir... save him... he’s still inside..."

Just then, the sound of somewhat heavy footsteps, accompanied by a cold rebuke, came from behind them.

"You again, you little brat! Wasn’t blocking the corpse cart this morning enough for you? What kind of trouble are you trying to stir up now?"

Hearing the voice, Roland looked away from the boy’s face and slowly stood up.

The instant his fingertip left Morne’s skin, that faint sense of "immersion" and "shift" was abruptly severed, as if cut by a sharp blade.

The world instantly returned to that familiar state of observation—clear, yet always separated by an invisible film.

The acrid smell remained, the cries remained, but the strange illusion of "seeping into" this reality was gone.

The sudden disparity made Roland’s breath catch, and a brief trance washed over him.

Before he could fully comprehend what this bizarre change meant, the footsteps had stopped right in front of him.

Turning to look, he saw it was the same gray-uniformed squad leader who had callously stopped the old Beastman woman earlier.

His face was etched with obvious impatience; he clearly recognized Morne.

Seeing Morne clinging to Roland’s coattails with Roland standing in the way, the squad leader frowned and, almost without thinking, reached out to shove the "obstructive" stranger aside.

In a flash, Roland made a judgment.

’Morne being able to touch me is likely due to some incomprehensible Trait of his.’

’But other people, including this Executor from Silver Radiance City’s establishment, should still be bound by the rules of this space-time displacement and unable to physically touch me.’

To avoid unnecessary Entanglement and exposing more anomalies, Roland took a subtle step back and to the side, deftly avoiding the man’s outstretched hand.

The fluid and precise evasive maneuver left the gray-uniformed squad leader’s hand hanging in midair.

He froze for a second, then his brow knitted even tighter, his scrutinizing gaze landing on Roland like a searchlight.

Upon closer inspection, the pure indifference in his eyes was quickly replaced by a look mixed with astonishment and vigilance.

Although Roland’s clothes were lightly dusted from his travels and the recent Chaos, his overall bearing was completely different from the ragged, sallow-faced residents of the Lower City District around them.

His companions behind him further amplified this impression of being "outsiders" and "upper class."

In the Lower City District, a group like them was as conspicuous as a torch in the dead of night.

The squad leader’s lips pressed into a hard, cold line.

He pulled his hand back, but the wariness in his eyes, far from dissipating, only grew sharper.

"Gentlemen and... lady, why are you here?"

As he spoke, the gray-uniformed squad leader gave a slight wave of his hand.

The next moment, the Guards behind him tacitly adjusted their positions, subtly forming a semi-circle, their hands unconsciously resting on the batons or some strangely shaped restraining devices at their waists.

Their intention was clear.

They were going to take this suspicious group of "respectable people," who had appeared where they shouldn’t be, back for "questioning."

Roland took it all in and shook his head slightly.

He turned his head and quipped to his companions behind him in a low voice.

"Well, folks, looks like we’ve run into a bit of ’minor trouble.’"

His original plan had indeed been to investigate discreetly, avoiding any open challenge to Silver Radiance City’s Order before he had a full grasp of the city and the time loop.

That was a move he was saving for a last resort.

After all, with every loop they experienced, the risk of his companions undergoing "cognitive assimilation" increased.

But when trouble came looking for him, Roland wasn’t one to back down.

Besides...

The look in the squad leader’s eyes went far beyond ordinary caution, carrying a hint of reactive tension.

’This doesn’t look like the kind of trouble we can talk our way out of easily.’

Roland’s eyes narrowed.

Even if their group’s appearance was a bit sudden, the man’s reaction was too extreme. It was as if he wasn’t just dealing with "loiterers," but was anxious to cover something up, or afraid that these "outsiders" would uncover some secret.

’What are they hiding? And what are they afraid of?’

The thought flashed through Roland’s mind.

Perhaps the answer lay within this strange, still-burning fire.

Or in the words of the survivors who had lived through the disaster, but might be "disposed of."

In a flash of inspiration, Roland made his decision.

He ignored the gray-uniformed men closing in on him and quickly looked down at Morne, who was still clutching his coat, his face streaked with tears.

"Morne."

His voice was low, but exceptionally clear.

"Tell me, what does your uncle look like? Any distinguishing features?"

The boy was frightened by the sudden tension, but he sniffled hard and quickly described him in a tearful voice.

"He... he’s tall and thin, with a burn scar on his left cheek... he wears an old brown leather vest... He’s- he’s a mender..."

Roland nodded, patting the boy’s thin shoulder firmly, conveying a reassuring sense of calm Power as he gave a quick, clear order to his companions behind him.

"Get this kid out of here. Find a safe place and wait for me!"

Avril was the quickest to react. The Elf’s graceful figure flickered, and she was already beside the boy, pulling him under her protection.

The others then quickly began moving toward the edge of the crowd.

Seeing Roland not only refuse to surrender but act with such "blatant disregard" for them, the Guards were furious.

"Stop them! Fire!"

The gray-uniformed squad leader roared.

The two Guards at the front immediately raised their weapons.

Short-handled devices forged from dark metal, with eerie blue energy patterns flowing across their surfaces.

The crystal focusers at the front of the devices emitted a sharp hum as they charged. Then, several condensed, azure Energy Beams shot out, carrying a bone-chilling cold.

They didn’t travel in a straight line but carved slight arcs through the air, locking onto Roland’s limbs as if they were alive.

However, the next scene made the pupils of every Guard who witnessed it contract.

The low-temperature Energy Beams, powerful enough to instantly freeze flesh and pierce ordinary Armor...

...passed right through Roland’s body the moment they touched him, as if he were nothing but an Illusion of the Void. They hit the scorched earth behind him, exploding in a shower of ice crystals and steam.

Roland’s figure wavered slightly in the light distorted by the energy disturbance, but he was completely unharmed.

It wasn’t just the Energy Beams.

A metal net crackling with fine bolts of electricity, thrown by another Guard, and a high-frequency sonic pulse fired from the side, designed to induce muscle spasms, all met the same fate.

They passed through the space Roland occupied as if it were empty air, failing to make any physical contact or have any effect whatsoever.

The anger on the squad leader’s face froze instantly, replaced by a deep-seated chill.

When he looked up again, the spot was empty.

Roland’s figure had vanished without a trace, like a drop of water dissolving into the air, leaving behind only the lingering traces of energy on the ground and a circle of stunned Guards.

"He... he vanished?"

A Guard cried out, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

The squad leader’s face turned ashen. He ducked his head, bringing his mouth close to an inconspicuous silver badge on his collar, his voice hoarse and urgent, laced with barely suppressed shock and anger.

"Unknown high-threat target spotted at the edge of the Rust Alley fire! Abnormal energy signature, physical and energy attacks ineffective. Suspected... ’Phase Shift’ or ’High-dimensional Interference’ test subject!"

"Requesting immediate support from a Cleaner squad! Repeat, requesting immediate Cleaner support!"

A cold, synthesized electronic voice responded from the badge, seemingly confirming the order and coordinates.

The moment the communication cut off, the squad leader could no longer contain himself. He slammed his fist into a nearby charred, broken wall, forcing a few venomous snarls through his gritted teeth.

"Damn it... What kind of monster have those lunatics created this time! We’re always the ones who have to clean up their messes!"

"Those bastards are so busy playing with their ’grand inventions,’ they never care what kind of hell it creates down here!"