Chapter 553 - 496: [Rift Walker]

Chapter 553: Chapter 496: [Rift Walker]

His consciousness rose as if from a pitch-black Deep Sea, gradually breaking free from the bonds of chaos.

His hearing returned first.

The pitter-patter of rain, steady and rhythmic, beat against a nearby wooden structure.

From downstairs came the faint clatter of cups and plates, muffled and low conversation, and the unique, reassuring crackle of firewood Burning in a hearth.

These sounds wove together, forming a backdrop that was both familiar and strange.

A tavern.

’I’m upstairs in a tavern.’

Next, his sense of smell awakened.

The air was filled with the faint musty smell of damp, old wood, the slightly sour aroma of aged ale, and the greasy scent of some kind of root vegetable and cheap meat stewed for a long time, wafting up from downstairs.

All of this confirmed his guess about the tavern.

However, mixed in with these scents, there also seemed to be an extremely faint, yet crisp and stable... sense of Energy?

It was like the chill of metal placed in snow, or the Purity of sunlight passing through a Crystal—utterly different from the turbid air he remembered, which was full of a Burning, decaying scent.

Roland’s eyelids trembled a few times before finally, slowly opening.

His vision was blurry at first, just a dim, hazy yellow halo of light. He blinked, adjusting to the light as his pupils slowly focused.

What came into view was a low ceiling with thick, visible log beams. Dark, age-old grime was caked in the cracks between the wooden planks.

He tilted his head slightly, surveying the space.

The room was very small. Besides the wooden bed he was on, which was covered with a coarse linen sheet, there was only a lopsided wooden nightstand with a chipped clay cup on it.

The walls were exposed logs, unpolished and still bearing the marks of an axe.

The floor was made of thick wooden planks that would surely creak underfoot.

Every sign pointed to this being an extremely ordinary, even crude, tavern guest room.

This realization brought a faint sense of security. At least he hadn’t landed directly in the wilderness or an enemy’s lair.

But what followed was a deeper sense of caution.

’Where am I?’

’Who brought me here?’

’Where are my companions?’

With these thoughts, Roland rose very slowly, controlling his movements to avoid any muscle aches or creaking joints.

But as his gaze swept over the wall by the door, both his movements and his thoughts came to a halt.

The source of light illuminating the dim room was not the oil lamp he had expected to see on a table, nor a small hearth with dying embers in the corner.

On the wall, not far above the doorframe, hung a lamp.

It was composed of some dark, unpolished metal base, its design simple, even crude.

But what truly caught Roland’s eye was the fist-sized, pale yellow Crystal embedded in the center of the base, held in place by a few bent metal bands.

A soft, steady light emanated from within the Crystal. It was neither harsh nor flickering, evenly illuminating a small area below.

The light’s color wasn’t the warm yellow or dancing orange-red of a Flame, but a constant halo closer to that of an afternoon sun, imbued with a strange sense of life.

Even from a distance, with his keen Perception, he could clearly detect the faint, but definite...

...fluctuation of Magic.

It wasn’t the sharp or heavy Energy signature of Enchanted Weapons, nor the contained, volatile Power waiting to be unleashed from a Scroll or Potion.

It was a continuous, gentle output of Magic Power, like a trickling stream, whose only purpose seemed to be...

...to provide light.

’A magical object used for lighting in such a simple, even dilapidated, guest room?’

This discovery instantly overturned his earlier judgment of an "ordinary tavern," which he had based on the environment and scents.

In his knowledge and experience, Magic was expensive, rare, and usually associated with combat, protection, important rituals, or luxurious indulgence.

Even the more common Light Technique Scrolls or Enchanted Lanterns were by no means ordinary items that any roadside inn could afford to place in every guest room.

’Either I’ve severely misjudged the class of this "tavern," and it’s actually a clandestine base with a deep enough background to use Magic Lamps for common lighting?’

’Or...’

A cold, clear thought, like a bolt of lightning piercing through the fog, suddenly shattered the daze of his awakening.

’...it’s not that the tavern is special, but rather...’

’...this "era" is different.’

’An era... where Magic is possibly more widespread, where Magic Power resources haven’t yet dwindled as they had in my time, and thus magical creations are more commonly used...’

’The "past"?’

His heart gave a heavy thud in his chest, and he subconsciously took a deep breath.

Only then did he realize that besides the familiar scents, the air was also filled with a dense pulse of underlying Magic Power—more "fresh," or rather, "active," unlike the faint sense of "decay" in the cities of later ages.

Thanks to the [Heart of the Furnace], he could even "hear" the Fire Element "singing" joyfully.

The sensation was so strange it left him a little disoriented.

After shaking his head gently, Roland focused his attention back on himself.

A coarse but clean linen shirt and trousers—clearly not his own clothes.

His personal belongings, aside from the simple, ancient-looking bracelet on his wrist, were gone.

As for how his body felt...

Apart from a persistent, dull ache deep in his soul, like a hairline crack in porcelain, he only felt some minor discomfort and fatigue.

He was back.

’Really...’

’I’m back in the "past."’

Not to the desperate moment of Silver Radiance City’s Destruction, not to the perilous Space-Time where he confronted Yemiga or Phaethon, but to a strange, living past era where even Magic seemed more "commonplace."

’Avril, Duraga, Galvis, Bronson...’

’How are they?’

’Were they also sent to this era?’

’Where?’

’And...’

’Who brought me here?’

’Friend or foe?’

Countless questions flooded his mind, mixed with the daze of time travel and the alertness of being in an unknown environment.

Roland took a deep breath. The air, filled with the scent of old wood, dampness, and a faint hint of Magic, rushed into his lungs. He forced himself to calm down and turn his attention to his most fundamental support.

With a silent thought, a faintly glowing, translucent panel silently unfolded before his eyes.

Seeing this, the taut string in Roland’s mind finally loosened slightly.

Although his personal equipment and items were currently missing, thankfully, the Professional Panel showed no abnormalities.

As long as this foundation remained, no matter what external items he lost, it was possible to accumulate and acquire them again.

As he thought, his eyes quickly scanned the various data on the panel, assessing his condition.

His gaze landed on a certain column, and he couldn’t help but be slightly startled.

[Faith (Self) Resonance: 84%]

"If I remember correctly, my Faith Resonance was around fifty percent before, but now..."

’It’s suddenly shot up by more than half.’

After a brief moment of surprise, he recalled his experience in the Eternal Song Forest and immediately understood the source of this surge.

’Is it because I directly defeated the ’World Serpent,’ Yemiga?’

At this thought, scenes from that battle flashed through his mind again.

A moment later, Roland’s expression became calm, without much joy.

’Yemiga’s Power was certainly terrifying, but in the end, it was just a creation made by artificially piling up and grafting Authority. It’s likely still fundamentally different from the status of true Gods, which originates from the world’s Laws and coalesces naturally.’

’Phaethon’s contemptuous words and attitude are indirect proof of that.’

’If only my strength were a little greater...’

Roland’s fingertips tapped unconsciously on the edge of the bed.

’I must clarify the situation as soon as possible, find my companions, and then... seize every opportunity to become stronger.’

While thinking, Roland’s gaze continued to move across the Professional Panel, and he soon noticed another conspicuous change.

The name and description where the [Time Traveler] Trait had been displayed were now updated.

[Host Trait detected: [Time Traveler]]

[In-depth analysis in progress...]

[Host Elemental Affinity detected: Fire, Space-Time]

[Conditions met. Deepening Resonance...]

[Trait evolution process activated...]

[Trait [Time Traveler] has evolved]

[Trait acquired: Rift Walker]

[Rift Walker: You once passively endured the torrent of time. Now, your Entanglement with Space-Time has deepened to its very essence. Building upon the foundation of ’Time Traveler’ and combined with your unique experiences and affinities, you have developed an almost instinctive Perception of the fragile points in time and space.]

[You are beginning to vaguely perceive the transient ’weak points’ or ’rifts’ that exist in the surrounding Space-Time structure. These nodes often originate from the sediment of history, the accumulation of strong emotions, or the disturbance of abnormal Energy. They are extremely unstable, like ripples on water, fleeting and ephemeral.]

[You can attempt to guide your own Power to actively touch and tear open these tiny ’rifts,’ thereby achieving short-range Space-Time leaps within an extremely limited area, or passively receive the blurry, fragmented Echoes of the timeline leaking from the rifts.]

[However, this ability is highly dependent on temporary Perception and immediate reflexes.]

[The leap distance is extremely short and the destination highly random. The fragments of Space-Time glimpsed are often shattered, ambiguous, and even harmfully misleading.]

[Furthermore, forcibly traversing unstable rifts may lead to severe backlash, such as your body being torn apart by Space-Time turbulence or your consciousness suffering from temporal dislocation. Please use with caution.]