Chapter 574 - 507: The Forgotten Prisoner

Chapter 574: Chapter 507: The Forgotten Prisoner

"Ogre... Blood Roar?"

Roland raised an eyebrow.

This wasn’t the first time he had heard that surname.

His honest and reliable companion, Beastman Freddy, also bore the surname "Blood Roar."

According to the mysterious Witch Vanessa, whom he had encountered in the Land of Mist, the Blood Roar tribe of the Beastman race had a complex history: they were once enslaved by Abyssal Demons, later betrayed the Abyss, and then distinguished themselves in a key war for the Beastman faction.

Then...

At this thought, a flicker of inquiry crossed Roland’s mind.

’The Blood Roar tribe was enslaved by the Abyss, and then they rebelled... Did this piece of history happen before this moment, or after?’

This could provide a point of reference to pinpoint his exact location in the "past."

He turned to the Ogre, who was weak and drained from completing the Blood Covenant, and asked directly.

"How much do you know about the origin of the ’Blood Roar’ surname, or the history of your tribe? Especially... anything related to the Abyss."

The Ogre struggled to kneel upright. Hearing the question, a look of confusion and bitterness crossed his ashen face as he shook his head.

"Master... I... I don’t know. I’m just a half-breed mutt. I was abandoned at the edge of the wilderness not long after I was born. A passing wolf pack... no, some wandering Scavengers found me and raised me like a stray dog."

"The surname ’Blood Roar’ is the only thing I know from the father I never met. Other than this name and this troublesome bloodline, I know nothing about the Beastmen or any tribe."

His voice was low, tinged with a numb sorrow.

With the inquiry leading nowhere, Roland could only let it go.

After all, it was merely a fleeting curiosity, not something crucial to his current situation.

He changed the subject, asking if any strangers had appeared in or around Lin Ye Town, and proceeded to describe Avril and the others’ appearances.

The Ogre thought carefully for a moment before finally shaking his head.

"Sir, I have no memory of the people you described... Besides, this border town is often a stopover for travelers. There are far too many new faces coming and going, so..."

"I understand."

Roland nodded gently, pondering.

’Perhaps... after we traveled through Space-Time, Avril and the others didn’t land in the same place as me? Or perhaps...’

He rubbed the Secret Imprisonment Dice in his hand.

’Since that Merchant had this die, it proves he must have been near the place where I was unconscious. I might be able to get more clues from him.’

Thinking of this, Roland’s gaze swept over the Ogre’s lowered eyelids, sharply catching a fleeting glint deep within them—a mixture of pain, humiliation, and a barely perceptible unwillingness.

But he paid it no mind.

The Blood Covenant was complete. Its binding power was rooted in the Ogre’s own bloodline and soul.

Any malicious thought directed at him would be sensed by the covenant the moment it arose, triggering a countermeasure.

In the face of absolute control, this faint trace of defiance was utterly insignificant.

He then took a step forward, extended his right hand, and effortlessly lifted the Ogre’s burly, three-hundred-plus-pound frame from the ground as if it were a bundle of hay.

Brushing the sawdust and dust off the other’s body, Roland spoke calmly.

"Don’t overthink it. I won’t force you to do anything beyond your capabilities or that would mean certain death."

He paused for a moment before getting straight to the point.

"You have two tasks for now. First, heal your wounds. Second, use all your men and channels to investigate the black market in the abandoned mines. Find out if there have been any large-scale activities there recently, when it will next be open, and what noteworthy factions or individuals are currently inside."

"Report any information you gather to me immediately. Understand?"

Hearing this, the complex emotions in the Ogre’s eyes were quickly replaced by a resigned obedience. He lowered his head.

"Yes, Master. I’ll get on it right away."

"Good. Now..."

Roland released his grip and pointed at the trashed tavern.

"First, help clean this place up. The compensation and repairs are your responsibility since you caused this mess."

The Ogre nodded obediently and shuffled toward the group of thugs who were still working under Holland’s supervision.

Seeing him approach, a few of the quicker thugs immediately put on fawning, almost terrified expressions, rushing forward to try and take over his work.

"Boss... you’re injured. You should rest. We’ll handle this manual labor..."

"Get lost."

The Ogre growled. His voice was still hoarse, but it carried an undeniable authority.

He pushed away his approaching subordinate with his good left hand, the menacing scar on his face twitching in the dim light.

"If you lose a bet, you accept the loss. The strong are respected. If you break something, you pay for it. If you do something stupid, you own up to it!"

"All of you, get back to work! If I catch anyone slacking, I’ll break their legs myself!"

With that, he ignored everyone else and trudged over to the pile of broken beams. Using his one good hand and his shoulder, he began to help move them, struggling but stubborn.

Seeing this, the other thugs didn’t dare say another word, and their work efficiency seemed to inexplicably quicken.

Inside the tavern, the CLANGING sounds of repairs mingled with heavy panting, creating a strange atmosphere of "busyness," like the aftermath of a disaster.

Witnessing this, Roland nodded in slight satisfaction, then strolled over to the tavern owner, Boss Karen, who was still directing the work while casting nervous glances in his direction.

When Karen saw Roland approaching, his chubby body clearly stiffened. He forced a strained smile, his voice tight.

"S-Sir, is there anything I can do for you?"

Roland raised a hand, signaling that he didn’t need to be so formal, and spoke in a placid tone.

"Boss Karen, relax. It wasn’t my intention to disturb your business today and get so many things broken."

He glanced at the Ogre and his men, who were working with their heads down, and continued.

"Calculate all the damages carefully. Don’t be polite about it. Put it all on the Ogre’s tab and have him pay double."

"If he, or any of his men, ever dare to cause trouble here again..."

Roland’s voice was steady and clear.

"You know who to find."

Hearing this, Karen’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed. A look of relief washed over his face, and he nodded hastily.

"Yes, yes! Of course, sir! Thank you for upholding justice! I... I really don’t know how to thank you."

He rubbed his hands together, his tone becoming much more natural. The fear in his eyes when he looked at Roland had lessened, replaced by gratitude.

"See, what did I tell you, Karen!"

As they spoke, a thick arm was slung casually over Roland’s shoulder.

Holland had sidled up at some point, a playful yet lazy grin on his face. He gestured at Karen with his chin.

"Our Rudolph here might not remember his past, but his character is spot on! He sees injustice and steps in to help—that’s what a real hero does! He wouldn’t stoop to despicable acts like bullying the weak and preying on honest folk."

As he spoke, he even winked at Roland, a hint of teasing in his eyes.

"I’m right, aren’t I, Rudolph?"

Roland could feel that Holland’s attitude was unchanged. It was the same easy familiarity, now tinged with a certain proud satisfaction, as if he shared in the glory of Roland displaying his power and resolving the conflict.

This completely unfeigned familiarity left Roland feeling a bit helpless. He gave a slight nod in response.

This helplessness wasn’t directed at the content of Holland’s words, but purely at his personality—his ability to instantly "warm up" to anyone in any situation and, once he started talking, become nearly impossible to shut up. He was... hard to handle.

To be honest, even after years of traveling this continent since his transmigration, Roland still found that dealing with overly familiar people with an insatiable desire to talk always required extra effort.

He subtly shifted half a step to the side, letting Holland’s arm slide off naturally, then said briefly to Karen and Holland.

"I’ll leave this to you. I’m a bit tired, so I’m going back to my room to rest."

With that, giving Holland no chance to continue the conversation, Roland turned and walked up the creaking stairs.

He returned to the small, crude room on the second floor that was temporarily his.

After a long sigh, Roland cradled the [Secret Imprisonment Dice] in his palm. With a faint, imperceptible tremor of anxiety in his fingertips, he began to slowly turn its eight faces with a specific sequence and force.

A faint mechanical whirring sounded as the complex patterns on the die’s surface lit up one by one with a soft glow.

A moment later, accompanied by a nearly inaudible CLICK, the air about three feet above the die silently twisted and stretched.

Like a curtain being drawn back by an invisible hand, an oval "doorway," its edges flowing with a faint silver light, silently opened.

Beyond the door was not a physical scene, but a deep, dark space dotted with points of starlight.

Seeing this, the weight in Roland’s chest finally lifted, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

’It seems traveling through Space-Time didn’t damage its core function...’

This [Secret Imprisonment Dice] was of great significance to him. It was connected to a stable and hidden Otherdimensional Space, with a capacity far beyond that of ordinary storage items.

More importantly, it held the extremely valuable supplies Roland had accumulated during his travels over the past few years—things he didn’t need at the moment but were priceless.

This included precious books and notes he had "borrowed" from the Dawn Wind Empire’s Royal Academy library, detailing the history, theory, entry conditions, and advancement paths for numerous Extraordinary Professions.

Although knowledge of the Extraordinary was as widespread in this "past" era as he had expected, in his current state—with an unknown identity and no possessions—it would be no easy feat to systematically acquire high-level, organized knowledge about Professions.

If these reserves were lost, his plans to increase his strength would be severely hampered.

Confirming the entrance was stable, Roland no longer hesitated and stepped into the darkness.

Lifting his gaze, he saw that everything was just as he remembered it from the last time he had organized it, with no sign of disarray or damage.

Roland quickly scanned the area, carefully checking several key storage spots. After confirming that all his important items were intact, the last thread of tension in his heart finally loosened.

He let out a soft breath and was about to turn and leave the hidden space when...

"Stop this endless torment..."

An extremely faint, dry, and hoarse voice, like a broken bellows struggling to draw air, suddenly echoed by his ear, filled with unspeakable pain and exhaustion.