Translator: CinderTL
The statue stood majestically in the center of the dilapidated plaza, an incongruous sight. Carved from some dense, pale stone, it had miraculously survived millennia of wind and rain, its main body remarkably intact, forming a stark contrast with the surrounding crumbling buildings.
The statue depicted a man of immense stature and muscular build. His head held high, chest broad, the lines of his muscles carved with such power that each tendon seemed to pulse with explosive energy. An indescribable, rock-like resilience radiated from him, a testament to the sculptor's exquisite and lifelike artistry.
Yet, this once-imposing statue now bore a tragic incompleteness. Its head was missing, leaving only a rough, severed neck. Both arms had been completely destroyed at the shoulders, rendering the pose both tragic and bizarre—like a headless Venus de Milo.
"Could it be... some unknown deity?"
As Roland studied the peculiar statue, the massive shadow of the shell ship and its deep, rumbling roar clearly startled some of the ruins' inhabitants. From the rubble below, a sudden flurry of rustling sounds and running footsteps erupted.
Suddenly, dozens, even hundreds, of figures scrambled out from behind the collapsed walls, half-hidden underground entrances, and crevices in the rubble, like startled groundhogs. They quickly gathered, their heads tilted skyward to stare at the uninvited guest in the sky.
These "human" figures...
If they could still be called human.
Their condition was utterly miserable.
Each was clad in tattered rags that barely covered their bodies, and their exposed skin was a sickly yellow or ashen hue, a result of prolonged malnutrition and lack of sunlight.
Their faces were gaunt, their eye sockets hollowed, and their ribs stood out sharply beneath the thin skin. The indelible marks of long-term starvation were etched into their very beings.
"Humans... are still surviving here?"
Roland frowned, a wave of intense confusion surging through him.
This was completely unexpected.
Compared to Rust Town, where he had briefly stayed and found at least some bizarre vegetation surviving, the area around The Granary Hall was far more desolate.
Everywhere he looked, there was only lifeless wasteland. Many plots had even undergone severe desertification, and not even moss could be found on the cracked earth.
In such a place, how had these people survived?
To avoid further agitating these clearly suffering survivors and to prevent unnecessary conflict, Roland shook his head gently and addressed Durga.
"Durga, bring the ship down in an open area far from The Granary Hall's main entrance. Maintain vigilance."
The Gray Dwarf Leader nodded slightly, and the shell ship slowly descended.
The heavy hull landed with a muffled thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The moment the ship settled, the human survivors who had appeared earlier cautiously emerged from behind their shelters, forming a loose but hostile circle around the vessel.
They gripped crude weapons tightly: spears made of sharpened stones lashed to wooden poles, jagged-edged stone axes, or simply heavy chunks of bone and brick.
Their grimy faces were etched with wariness, their sunken eyes fixed on the shell ship's hatch.
Their gazes mingled fear, despair, and the kind of reckless madness that might erupt from cornered animals.
Seeing this, Durga narrowed his eyes, a cruel determination flashing across his rugged face.
He spoke slowly, his voice low and gravelly:
"Rudolph, judging by their state, they clearly don't have the food we're looking for."
"Hunger and despair have consumed their reason. They're no better than wild beasts now. To avoid trouble, shouldn't we—"
As he spoke, the Gray Dwarf Leader raised his rough palm and made a swift cutting motion across his own neck, the meaning clear and unmistakable.
"No, Durga—"
Roland reached out and gently pressed Durga's arm, which was still hovering near his neck, and sighed.
This wasn't due to some naive compassion. Having traveled through this perilous world for so long, he had long since abandoned such illusions.
Yet, to slaughter a group of emaciated human survivors, armed only with crude stone tools and posing no real threat—
Even with his current strength, the process could be completed in an instant, so swiftly that they wouldn't feel a shred of pain.
But such an act—
He still couldn't easily cross that line.
This wasn't weakness, but a boundary he had drawn for himself.
If he were to abandon even this boundary—
"Remember, Roland, when you wield power beyond the mortal realm, you must remain ever vigilant against its temptations."
"Control the strength, don't let it control you. Once you lose yourself in the convenience of power, resorting to any means to achieve your goals, you'll ultimately become a pitiful beast, driven only by destruction and restraint."
Graham's calm and wise voice seemed to echo in Roland's ears.
Roland shook his head, suppressing the turmoil of thoughts in his mind, and spoke softly but firmly to Durga.
"Even if they have no food, there might be artifacts in The Granary Hall that they don't know how to use..."
"Let me try to negotiate first. If they've truly lost all reason and can't communicate, we can take necessary measures then."
"Alright, alright—" Durga shrugged and grumbled gruffly. "You're always so— indecisive."
Yet, despite his words of complaint, a fleeting trace of almost imperceptible satisfaction flashed in the deep-set eyes of the Gray Dwarf Leader.
He muttered under his breath, as if talking to himself, or perhaps to Roland.
"Rudolph is Rudolph after all. Even if you've lost your memories, that stubborn, almost fussy way of yours when it comes to certain things hasn't changed one bit—"
Without waiting for Roland's response, he turned and began barking orders to his people, instructing the warriors to remain vigilant but not to make any rash moves.
Roland could only shake his head helplessly at Durga's teasing.
He composed himself and slowly walked toward the exit where the shell ship's gangway had been lowered.
Just as he was about to step out of the shadow of the hatch and fully expose himself to the survivors' gaze, Roland deliberately slowed his movements. He raised his hands high, palms open, to signal that he was unarmed.
Taking a deep breath of the cold, dust-laden air outside, Roland addressed the hostile and fearful crowd below in a calm, clear voice:
"Everyone—can you understand me? We are merely passing through this place. We mean no harm."
His voice echoed through the deathly silent ruins.
In the next moment, a suppressed murmur rippled through the crowd.
Perhaps seeing Roland's raised hands and lack of aggressive posture, the gaunt humans' wild vigilance eased slightly, but their grip on their makeshift weapons remained tight.
After a brief standoff, the crowd parted slightly, and a figure slowly emerged.
It was a tall, middle-aged man.
But years of starvation had reduced him to a skeletal frame. His excessive thinness made him look like a reed swaying in the wind, his broad bones supporting empty, tattered clothes that seemed strangely out of place.
His face was caked with grime and etched with deep wrinkles, but in his sunken eyes, a flicker of reason remained, unextinguished by the surrounding despair.
The middle-aged man scrutinized Roland and the shell ship behind him, its style utterly alien to this world. His voice rasped, dry as sandpaper.
"Are you... Veilbreakers?"
Hearing the name, Roland recalled the humans' attitude toward Veilbreakers in Rust Town and hesitated for a moment.
But realizing the shell ship itself couldn't be concealed, he slowly nodded.
"That's right. I'm Roland. I've come here simply to acquire some necessary survival supplies, such as food and fresh water."
"Heh—"
Before the middle-aged man could respond, a lean, monkey-like youth beside him couldn't resist scoffing, his tone dripping with hostility and mockery.
"No ill will? You Veilbreakers trampling on our land—that's the most blatant malice imaginable!"
"Shut your mouth, Kahn!" the middle-aged man snapped sharply without turning around, his voice weak but carrying an undeniable authority.
The skinny youth, Kahn, hunched his neck sullenly, but his eyes still burned with resentment.
The middle-aged man turned his gaze back to Roland, a complex struggle flickering in his eyes. After a moment's deliberation, as if steeling himself, he slowly began to speak.
"Hello, Roland. My name is Holm, and I'm the temporary manager of these unfortunate souls."
He paused, then continued with difficulty.
"I'm afraid we don't have the food and water you need here, but... if you're willing to help us, we can provide something that matches your requirements..."
Roland froze slightly, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.
"To be frank, Holm, judging by your condition, I doubt you can offer me anything else I require."
"Rest assured, as I said, we mean no harm. We simply want to explore the depths of The Granary Hall. According to past records, there might still be—"
"That place no longer belongs to us..." Holm suddenly interrupted, a deep sorrow and helplessness flashing in his eyes. "Moreover, the depths are... filled with danger."
He abruptly changed the subject and ordered the gaunt man Kahn beside him, "Kahn, go fetch a Rock Core Block."
Kahn's face clearly showed reluctance, his lips moving as if to argue, but Holm cut him off with a stern gaze and a rough gesture.
The thin young man clamped his mouth shut resentfully, shot Roland a glare, and quickly retreated into the crowd.
He returned shortly, extending the object in his hand toward Roland.
Roland reached out and took it.
The object was surprisingly heavy, far exceeding what its size would suggest.
As for its appearance...
It was nothing like any food he had ever imagined.
Roughly the size of an adult man's fist, it had a perfectly regular polyhedral structure with sharp edges and a smooth surface. Its material seemed neither stone nor crystal, but something in between, with a dull, restrained metallic luster.
The color was a deep dark gray, but at certain angles, one could faintly see tiny red embers, like embers inside a dormant volcano, slowly circulating within.
The object was cold and hard to the touch. It seemed less like food and more like a precisely crafted energy core or an unknown mineral specimen.
"Hmm?"
After examining it closely for a moment, Roland slowly frowned.
Because from this... "mineral," he sensed something familiar.
(End of the Chapter)
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