Chapter 558 - 499: An Age Where the Extraordinary Is Mundane

Chapter 558: Chapter 499: An Age Where the Extraordinary Is Mundane

Roland nodded lightly.

His physical condition at the moment was indeed quite peculiar.

His rough linen clothes made him look destitute, but his physical wounds and exhaustion had mostly healed. The only thing that remained was a hidden, lingering pain deep in his soul—a remnant of using [Fate Deviation] on Phaethon, which felt like a spreading web of cracks in porcelain.

However, while Holland had earned his initial trust, they had only just met. In this completely unfamiliar era and environment, it was crucial to remain cautious.

At that thought, he gave a timely cough. His face took on the pale, strained look of someone just recovering from a serious illness, and he lowered his voice.

"I should... be able to walk. I just feel weak all over, and my head is still a bit foggy. But I won’t be able to rest easy until I go see that place."

He raised his eyes to look at Holland, his gaze filled with just the right amount of earnestness and a hint of imperceptible weakness.

"Please, Mr. Holland. If I feel like I can’t handle it, I’ll tell you immediately."

Holland looked at his "brave front," an expression of "you’re impossible" on his face, and finally waved his hand in resignation.

"Fine, fine. Seeing as you’re so insistent, get yourself ready. We’ll head out this afternoon and be back before dark."

"You rascal, don’t you dare pass out halfway there. That would be a real loss for me."

With that, Holland told Roland to get some rest and turned to leave the room.

A short while later, a young man who looked like an attendant pushed the door open and placed a simple meal on the rickety wooden table in the room.

A large, dark loaf of black bread, a bowl of steaming, thick stew made with root vegetables and a little minced meat, and a small cup of clear water.

The attendant grinned and said it was what Mr. Holland had ordered for him.

After thanking him, Roland said no more. He sat down at the table and began to enjoy this long-overdue, worldly meal.

As he chewed on the slightly coarse but flavorful black bread and ate the simple yet warming stew, a sliver of doubt couldn’t help but rise in his mind.

The food before him wasn’t crude, but it was by no means bountiful or refined. It was the typical fare one could find in any border town.

This didn’t quite match the descriptions of the "past" golden age he had glimpsed from the magnificent ruins and fragments of ancient texts he’d discovered while exploring the ruins of the Aiselon Continent.

This was especially true considering this humble inn room was actually equipped with a constantly lit Magic Lamp.

In his original era, this would have been an unimaginable luxury.

This undoubtedly implied that at this point in the "past," Magic or some form of Energy application must have been quite widespread, perhaps even deeply integrated into daily life.

If magical artifacts could be used so "casually" for lighting, then it stood to reason that this era’s societal productivity, resource acquisition, and processing capabilities should have reached a fairly high level.

The food, or at least the food served to inn guests, shouldn’t look like this—almost no different from the increasingly resource-scarce "future" Roland was familiar with, and in some ways, even more "simple."

Roland quickly and efficiently shoveled the food into his mouth, replenishing his strength while examining his plate.

This subtle "discrepancy" between the level of productivity and the quality of daily provisions made him feel that something was vaguely wrong.

’Is this town just too remote and poor to reflect the general standard of the era?’

’Or were the records of the "past’s" prosperous age of Magic and material abundance exaggerated or biased?’

’Or... was there some deeper reason for this disconnect between the flourishing of Magic and the supply of basic goods?’

He silently committed this question to memory.

In this strange era, any detail that contradicted his existing knowledge could be hiding important information.

After eating his fill, Roland didn’t rush downstairs. Instead, he waited quietly in his room, stretching his limbs and joints, which were slightly stiff after being unconscious for days. He felt Power slowly reawakening within his familiar muscle memory.

Holland only arrived late, not until the sky outside was completely shrouded in night and the waves of clamor from downstairs grew so loud they threatened to tear off the low ceiling.

The kindhearted Priest’s face clearly bore the lingering traces of anger, his brow furrowed. But when he pushed open the door and saw Roland, he quickly suppressed his displeasure, even managing to force a smile.

"Here, for you."

Holland shoved a small, coarse cloth bundle into Roland’s hands, his tone still carrying a trace of his foul mood.

"I got this from Old John’s shop. That money-grubbing tightwad..."

He muttered a rather undignified complaint under his breath, then cleared his throat.

"This is all going on your tab. Once you’ve earned some money, you can pay me back for this along with your medical fees. Hurry up and change. Once you’re dressed, come find me at the counter downstairs."

Roland nodded lightly, watching as Holland turned and left with his lingering anger, the THUMP-THUMP of his footsteps fading down the stairs.

He opened the bundle. Inside was a set of obviously worn, crudely stitched, secondhand Leather Armor, and a short sword of an old design with some rust on the hilt.

The only consolation was that the sword’s edge had been polished to a mirror sheen. It reflected a cold light in the dim glow of the Magic Lamp, and its sharpness seemed acceptable.

After getting dressed, Roland stood before the room’s blurry bronze mirror and studied his reflection.

The man in the mirror wore a set of unremarkable, simple Leather Armor, with an ordinary short sword hanging at his waist. His black hair was slightly disheveled, and his face was a little pale.

This appearance was surprisingly similar to the green look he’d had back when he first left Black Water Territory and entered the wider world. For a moment, he felt a sense of déjà vu.

He shook his head, casting aside the useless nostalgic thoughts, and pushed open the door. He walked down the creaking stairs.

The moment he stepped onto the first floor of the tavern, a surging wave of noise and a mixture of smells washed over him.

The main hall was several times more crowded than it had been during the day; nearly every rough wooden table was packed with people.

The flickering light of candles and the fireplace danced in the swirling smoke, illuminating faces etched by wind and frost, alcohol, or the life of an Adventurer.

Foam from ale broke against the rims of huge earthenware mugs, and cutlery clattered against wooden plates.

The shouts of gamblers, the humming of drunkards, the low haggling of Merchants, and the coarse voices of Mercenaries bragging or complaining all wove together into a chaotic yet vibrant borderland symphony.

However, within the few short seconds it took for Roland to briefly scan the lively scene, his brow slowly and involuntarily furrowed.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

To his Perception, the teeming crowd in this noisy tavern—all those people dressed as seemingly ordinary patrons, Mercenaries, and Adventurers...

The proportion of them exuding fluctuations of Extraordinary Energy was unbelievably high.

’A quick scan... nearly ninety percent...’

’No, not nearly.’

’One hundred percent.’

As far as his Perception could reach, every seemingly ordinary patron had, to a greater or lesser degree, a faint glimmer of Fighting Spirit, a ripple of Magic Power, a whisper of nature, or some other unique trait of Power clinging to them.

Even the skinny waiter weaving nimbly through the crowd with a tray had traces of a Wind Element enhancement in his light-footed steps.

This wasn’t a gathering place for one or two powerful individuals, but rather...

It was as if in this era, in this place, for anyone who became an Adventurer, possessing Extraordinary Power was some kind of...

Standard issue?