Chapter 671 - 558: Bronson: Mara Is Pregnant, and It’s My Child

Chapter 671: Chapter 558: Bronson: Mara Is Pregnant, and It’s My Child

Slumped on the ground, the look of lingering terror had yet to fade from Bronson’s face.

He blankly raised his head, looking up at the figure who had saved him and was now gazing down.

At first glance, a stranger.

An exceptionally handsome young face, one that held an almost inhuman charm, with deep, tranquil black eyes.

But then, a deeper sense of familiarity rippled through him, like a stone tossed into a still lake.

The straight line of his nose, the curve of his lips when pressed together in a hint of resignation.

And especially, deep within his eyes, the spirit of one who had weathered many storms yet remained calm and resilient...

Bronson blinked hard, almost suspecting he was hallucinating from the shock and his long-held yearning.

He stared intently at the man, as if trying to forcibly dig out traces of their shared past from that handsome, unfamiliar face.

It wasn’t the voice, nor was it the face, but an indescribable aura, the look in his eyes, and the fluid, decisive fighting style that had felled his enemy in a single blow...

That familiar, reassuring strength.

"You... You are..."

Bronson’s voice was filled with uncertain hesitation. His gaze roamed repeatedly over Roland’s face, trying to reconcile the man before him with the image in his memory.

In the end, that calm and dependable feeling—one unique to his friend—overwhelmed his confusion about the man’s different appearance.

An almost impossible guess, laced with trembling surprise, burst from his lips.

"Ro... Roland? Is... is it you?"

The scholar’s voice cracked from extreme shock and a sudden, indescribable surge of complex emotions.

He struggled to stand, but his legs were weak from being bound for so long and the preceding tension.

Roland reached out just in time, gently steadying him.

"It... It is you! It’s really you!"

This time, Bronson’s tone was much firmer. He gripped Roland’s arm tightly, his eyes instantly reddening as his voice choked with emotion.

"I knew it... That feeling... Even though you look different... I just knew! I thought... I thought I’d never see any of you again..."

After the brief surge of excitement, a powerful urge to explain everything overwhelmed all other emotions.

Bronson took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his trembling voice, but his words began to tumble out faster and faster.

"Silver Radiance City... After that light that tore everything apart, I don’t know what happened. When I woke up, I was in this unfamiliar sea, and the time... the time felt completely wrong!"

His voice was filled with confusion and lingering fear.

"It took me a long time to figure it out, but I think I was thrown back... into the past, to a point in time far earlier than our own."

"I was adrift, faced constant peril, and nearly became food for the fishes... It was Mara who saved me."

As he mentioned her name, an incredibly complex expression appeared on Bronson’s pale face.

It was a mixture of tenderness, disbelief, and a trace of awkwardness.

"The leader of the Serrated Anchor... You’d find it hard to believe, but we... uh... Anyway, she took me in."

"I tried to find you, and Avril, Galvis, Duraga... everyone. I asked Mara to use the eyes and ears of the Serrated Anchor to make inquiries throughout the Broken Star Sea and even beyond, but... there was no news. It was like a drop of water vanishing into the torrent of time, without a trace."

"I thought... I really thought I was going to have to spend the rest of my life this way, in this unfamiliar era..."

His voice grew quiet, thick with despair, but his spirits were immediately rekindled by the sight of his very real companion.

"Until I was captured by those Mages just now, I even thought... I never expected... I never expected to see you here, under these circumstances..."

He looked at Roland, his eyes filled with the relief of a survivor, the joy of meeting an old friend in a strange land, and a thousand questions demanding answers.

"Roland... what happened? How are you here? Your appearance... and what about the others? What in the world is going on?"

"Mr. Bronson, calm down..."

Looking at his overwrought friend, Roland reached out and gently patted his shoulder. His gaze fell upon Bronson’s face, and his brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

He had first met Bronson at Black Water Manor.

Back then, the scholar had been in the prime of his life, but from years spent buried in ancient texts, he looked as though he rarely exercised. His skin was pale from a lack of sunlight, and his frame was slender, even a bit frail.

Though in his thirties, he could have passed for a man in his late twenties, carrying himself with the well-maintained elegance of the scholarly class.

But now...

Time and a starkly different lifestyle had left their deep imprints upon him.

His once-pale face was now tanned a healthy, deep-wheat color by the island sun and sea winds, even appearing somewhat coarse. Fine, visible lines were now etched at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead.

The change in his physique was even more obvious.

His once-slender frame had clearly filled out, and his cheeks were rounder.

The robes he wore were visibly tight around his midsection.

If not for the unchanged contours of his face—and especially his eyes, which were moist with emotion but still held the unique clarity and Concentration of a scholar—

Roland would have found it nearly impossible to connect this dark-skinned, slightly stout, weathered man with the pale, lanky, and unfailingly courteous scholar from his memory.

Seeing this, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind.

’Did the harsh life and diet on the island cause such a significant change in Bronson?’

’But if I think about it, it’s only been a few months at most since I used Phaethon’s power to return to this point in the past...’

Roland shook his head, pushing aside these trivial thoughts for now.

This was not the time to be pondering the changes in his friend’s physique.

Just as he was about to answer Bronson’s barrage of questions...

BOOM!

A colossal boom, far deeper and more shocking than any previous impact, erupted from the direction of the sea like the death roar of an ancient Sea Beast.

The sound wave, carrying a tangible shockwave, swept over the area, causing even the noisy, chaotic crowd near the docks to freeze and stare in terror toward the source.

At the sound, Roland whipped his head around, his sharp gaze piercing through the thinning smoke and mist to the distant battlefield where sea met sky.

The scene had changed.

Mara Broken Wave, who had previously seemed one with the ocean, was now in dire straits.

The massive, roaring whirlpool at her feet had become extremely unstable, flickering in and out as its radius steadily shrank.

The azure light surrounding her body flickered violently, like a faulty Magic Lamp with a bad connection.

The flowing water Shield around her had grown thin, looking as if it might collapse at any moment.

Her face was pale, fine beads of sweat dotted her temples, and her gray-green eyes, in addition to their burning rage, now held a trace of shock and...

...a sluggishness that spoke of failing strength.

Her movements, as she swung her Curved Saber to command the waves in a counterattack, were noticeably slower and heavier than before.

Every block and attack appeared to be an immense struggle.

In contrast, the Tower Mage, floating beneath the storm clouds, seemed to grow only more imposing, though his dark gray robes were slightly tattered.

The Magic Radiance around him was stable and blazing.

With a dance of his hands, Frost, Thunderbolt, and Arcane Missile rained down like a storm, their tempo fast and vicious, precisely hammering the weak points in Mara’s defense.

He had obviously noticed the unusual decline in his opponent’s Power, and his assault grew even fiercer, pressing her relentlessly, attempting to secure victory in one decisive move.

In an instant, Mara’s situation became perilous.

A Thunderbolt she failed to completely block grazed her left shoulder, charring and cracking her Leather Armor.

Immediately after, several Ice Cones pierced the thinning water barrier, leaving bloody gashes on her arms and legs.

The very waves she commanded were repeatedly crushed by an invisible Force Field her opponent summoned, constantly shrinking the space where she could stand.

The mistress of the Serrated Anchor, who just moments ago had been on equal footing—perhaps even holding a slight edge thanks to her home-turf advantage—

was now showing signs of collapse in a remarkably short time. Completely suppressed by the Mage, she could only struggle to hold on, her situation precarious.

Seeing this, Bronson instantly forgot his own barrage of questions.

His face drained of color, not from Fear, but from extreme worry.

He grabbed Roland’s arm, his fingers trembling from the force of his grip, his voice filled with an unprecedented urgency and desperation.

"Roland! Help her! Please... help Mara!"

He spoke frantically, his gaze locked on the struggling figure out on the water, as if every attack that struck her was a blow to his own heart.

Then, he seemed to realize his plea needed a better reason—or rather, that there was a crucial piece of information he had to make Roland understand.

His face flushed crimson as awkwardness, shame, and profound worry intertwined, making him stammer, almost unable to get the words out.

"She... Nothing can happen to her... because... because Mara is... she’s pregnant!"

He practically shouted the words with his eyes squeezed shut, then snapped them open again. As if he had summoned all his strength, his voice, though trembling, was unnaturally clear.

"It’s my child!"