Translator: CinderTL
Suppressing his suspicions for the moment, Roland felt no hesitation.
As Holm had said, the monster's strength and speed were unremarkable, and it was alone. Even if its combat skills were exceptionally refined, they would be no match for Roland's overwhelming advantages in strength, speed, and multi-class abilities.
With his plan set, Roland reassured the agitated Holm, clearly promising to enter the Granary Hall to eliminate the creature. He sternly warned Holm that during his mission, all survivors must stay away from the shell ship's docking area to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.
Holm nodded eagerly, not daring to delay. He quickly rallied the restless crowd behind him, and they retreated into the depths of the ruins like a receding tide, soon disappearing behind the broken walls.
Despite their compliance, Roland remained wary.
He turned back to the shell ship and briefly informed Durga and Bronson of the situation, specifically instructing Durga to keep his people under strict control and maintain the highest vigilance against the surrounding environment and the seemingly frail survivors.
After giving his instructions, Roland quickly organized his pack, checked his weapons, and set off alone toward the massive ruins in the distance.
The outlines of the Granary Hall's ruins were clearly visible, standing out starkly against the desolate landscape.
In no time, Roland had crossed the rubble-strewn courtyard and arrived at the massive, decaying, half-collapsed gate.
He could sense many pairs of eyes watching his every move from the shadows, but he ignored them.
Taking a deep breath, Roland reached out and slowly pushed open the massive gate, which groaned heavily.
The scene inside suddenly opened up before him.
Rather than a hall, it was an incredibly vast, astonishingly tall grand chamber.
Its structure resembled the large greenhouses or storage spaces Roland had seen in his previous life, with a partially collapsed transparent roof that cast dim, mottled light into the space.
The hall was spacious, unlike the labyrinthine corridors of Observation Post No. 7.
The entire space was permeated with an aura of decay and the erosion of time.
The towering support pillars were riddled with cracks, and the once-ornate decorations on the walls had long since peeled away, leaving only faint traces.
A thick layer of dust covered the floor, scattered with unrecognizable debris, shattered vessels, and refuse.
Several fresh bloodstains marred the dust, surrounded by broken wooden clubs, damaged stone axes, and clear gouges on the floor and walls left by weapons.
All of this silently corroborated Holm's earlier description of a brutal battle.
Roland's sharp gaze swept across the hall before he withdrew his gaze. Habitually, he placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist and focused his attention on the deepest part of the hall.
There stood several metal doors, heavier and more imposing, though now warped and askew.
In the open space before the doors lay numerous familiar dark gray fragments—pieces of Rock Core Blocks.
It was clear that behind those doors lay the objective of their journey.
This was the core storage area of the Granary Hall, the heart of its food reserves. The hall where Roland now stood seemed more like a distribution hub or staging area.
Yet blocking the path to several doors stood a tall, pale figure, exactly as Holm had described and as Roland remembered.
Its skin was a sickly white, and its body was completely hairless. In its hand, it held a crude-looking stone axe. Under the dim light filtering through the cracked dome, the pale skin faintly reflected a cold, smooth luster, like jade.
To Roland's surprise, the figure showed no sign of aggression, seemingly unaware of his intrusion. It stood motionless before the doors, head bowed, like a statue trapped in eternal slumber, blending seamlessly into the dead silence of the ruins.
Seeing the pale figure standing like a statue, Roland raised an eyebrow slightly. His invisible force field extended forward like the most precise probe, carefully scanning the target. The information returned largely matched Holm's description.
The pure physical strength contained within this pale corpse was indeed not particularly formidable.
However, Holm's terrified description still echoed in his ears.
Roland showed no carelessness. He slowly gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist, and with a soft shing, the Radiant Moon Longsword sprang from its sheath. Its icy blade shimmered faintly in the dim light.
He didn't rush into an attack. Instead, he maintained a steady rhythm, advancing step by step. His footsteps rang clearly in the vast, silent hall.
One step, two steps, three steps—
He cautiously closed the distance, his gaze locked on the motionless pale figure. Every muscle in his body tensed slightly, ready to explode into action at a moment's notice.
Just as Roland was about to step onto the small clearing before the crooked doors, mere steps away from the pale figure...
Everything changed!
The figure, which had been as still as death, sprang to life without warning.
No roar, no warning, it didn't even fully raise its head, but the speed that erupted from its lowered posture was astonishingly swift.
With a sudden push of its feet, the pale figure exploded forward in a circular burst of dust. It moved like a ghost, its crude stone axe—bearing a trajectory of almost supernatural refinement—carving a cunning arc through the air, aimed straight for the joint of Roland's sword-wielding wrist.
The attack was swift, the angle vicious, and the intent clear: to disable Roland's most threatening weapon.
A flicker of surprise crossed Roland's eyes, but his reaction was faster. With a slight twist of his wrist, the Radiant Moon Longsword flowed like moonlight, striking with impossible speed to block the axe at its point of force.
Clang!
The stone axe shattered, scattering debris. But the assault continued. The instant the axe broke, the pale figure spun, borrowing the force to whip its arm around and snatch up a crude spear from the ground—clearly a weapon left behind by a fallen survivor.
The spear came alive in its grip, darting toward Roland's throat like a venomous snake, its speed astonishing. Roland dodged the thrust, but the pale figure flicked its wrist, transforming the thrust into a sweeping arc that swept toward Roland's legs.
Simultaneously, its toes deftly hooked and flicked, sending a short-handled stone hammer flying into its left hand. In perfect coordination with the spear's sweeping strike, the hammer hurtled toward Roland's side with a dull whoosh of air.
The spear maintained distance, while the hammer delivered a brutal close-range assault—a seamless combination that left no room for error.
Roland's footwork remained fluid, retreating half a step.
The tip of his Radiant Moon Sword lightly deflected the spear, while his elbow pressed down, barely blocking the hammer's crushing blow.
He remained composed, but the astonishment in his eyes deepened.
Sss—
The spear lunged again like a venomous snake's tongue, but the pale figure abandoned it mid-flight, letting it drop.
As if anticipating this move, its hand snatched a jagged stone knife from the ground.
The blade angled upward in a treacherous arc, slashing toward Roland's sword-wielding arm.
Simultaneously, its hammer-wielding hand released its grip, its fingers clawing at the scattered gravel on the ground. The posture suggested it intended to unleash a hail of stones, sealing off Roland's escape routes.
Abandoning the spear, seizing the knife, scattering the stones—
The sequence flowed with such fluid, chilling precision that it sent shivers down Roland's spine.
It seemed as if everything within a few feet of the pale figure was part of its arsenal—whether it was a complete weapon or a shattered fragment—and could be effortlessly plucked and wielded to lethal effect.
But this combat technique...
...felt strangely familiar to Roland.
He parried the stone blade with his sword and retreated like the wind, evading the spray of debris.
His brow furrowed slowly.
No fixed weapon preference, yet with some indescribable intuition, it chooses the most suitable "tool" for the moment in the blink of an eye, maximizing each weapon's potential with seamless transitions and lightning-fast adaptations. This is clearly...
A Knight Does Not Die Unarmed!
But... how is this possible?
Roland suppressed his intense doubt.
To better perceive the pale figure's combat prowess, he deliberately restrained most of his strength and speed, reducing his power to a level roughly equivalent to—or even slightly below—the opponent's physical capabilities.
His Radiant Moon Longsword no longer sought a decisive strike. Instead, he focused on intricate parries, blocks, and probing counterattacks, like a patient observer guiding the figure to reveal more of its combat techniques.
Clang! Clang! Bang!
Grating metallic clashes and the shattering of stone echoed through the vast hall, sparks occasionally flying in the dim light.
In mere moments, offense and defense had shifted over a hundred times. The pale figure, wielding a variety of crude weapons scavenged from the floor, pressed the attack in a relentless tide, while Roland, deliberately suppressing his full strength, calmly parried with exquisite swordsmanship.
The more they clashed, the deeper Roland's understanding and confusion intertwined.
This way of fighting, using everything around them... it can only be A Knight Does Not Die Unarmed!
But this is clearly a trait unique to me, a strength granted by my Job Panel. How could it appear on an Ashborn? No... that's wrong!
Suppressing the shock in his heart, Roland parried again, observing closely.
Only then did he notice that while the figure's movements were fluid and transitions swift, they...
lacked adaptability.
This made all of the figure's attacks completely predictable, far inferior to A Knight Does Not Die Unarmed, and more like...
a crude imitation.
Just as Roland's concentration wavered slightly due to his thoughts, the pale figure, which had been attacking with the ferocity of a tidal wave, suddenly leaped backward without warning, retreating from the battle and standing still.
It ceased all movement. Slowly, it raised its lowered head, and the faint red light in its hollow eye sockets flared up like fuel being thrown onto a fire, emitting an unsettling, malevolent glow.
Before Roland could react, an even more astonishing transformation occurred.
A deep, guttural roar, as if originating from the depths of its soul, erupted from within its body—not through its mouth, but through a violent vibration of energy.
Beneath its pale, smooth skin, something seemed to writhe. Flesh and skin began to twist and bulge unnaturally.
Crack—crack—
The chilling sounds of bones dislocating and growing echoed relentlessly.
Its spine arched violently, and bone spikes pierced through the skin of its shoulders and elbows. Clinging to these spikes was a viscous, dark liquid of unknown origin, which spread and intertwined wildly, forming terrifying structures resembling twisted dragon wings and razor-sharp claws in an instant.
Its body swelled visibly, muscles bulging and stretching its gaunt frame by a full size, radiating an aura of primal, brutal strength.
A suffocating pressure, like a tangible tide, surged outward from its center, instantly enveloping the entire hall.
Roland's pupils constricted sharply, his sword-wielding hand tightening involuntarily. His face was etched with disbelief and shock.
"Is this... a dragon transformation?"
(End of the Chapter)
---------------------------
📖 You are reading [274] Chapters behind with [104] Free Chapters available on site.
🔥 Read up to Chapter [724] now, only on ᴄɪɴᴅᴇʀᴛʟ.ᴄᴏᴍ.
📊 [17] Novels, [14.4K+] Chapters with [11.2K+] Free Chapters!, [23M] Words on ℂ𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕋𝕃.𝕔𝕠𝕞
---------------------------