Translator: CinderTL
"What is this—"
Roland stopped, his expression solemn. He nodded slightly toward the skeletal remains slumped against the wall, a gesture of basic respect for the unknown deceased.
Then, he carefully bent down, his movements gentle yet firm, and pried apart the calcified, rigid finger bones to retrieve the object clutched within. He placed it beneath the light orb and examined it closely.
It was a small metal ring strung with seven or eight ancient keys of varying shapes and sizes, clearly a universal key ring designed to open different types of locks.
More striking, however, was a rectangular thin plate attached to the ring, about the length of a finger and the width of a fingernail.
It felt icy to the touch, its material neither iron nor steel, but seemingly mixed with a touch of mithril, giving it a unique pale silver luster.
The surface of the plate was exceptionally smooth, devoid of any crests, patterns, or even the faintest etchings, as if it were an unfinished work or its meaning transcended the need for external form.
"What is this thing?"
Roland ran his finger over the smooth metal, feeling a peculiar, near-perfect uniformity. He examined it closely for a moment but could discern no clues and sensed no discernible energy fluctuations.
Out of his usual caution, he tucked the keys and the strange metal sheet away for now.
His gaze then fell upon the ground beside the skeletal remains. There lay a notebook bound in an unusual material, its cover seemingly made from finely tanned leather. Though its edges were severely curled and damaged, and its surface mottled with age and mildew, the entire volume had surprisingly avoided complete decay. Only the title on the cover had become too blurred to read.
Roland bent down to pick it up, gently brushing away the accumulated dust. He carefully opened the fragile pages, their paper brittle and yellowed. Under the steady light of the magic sphere, he deciphered the fragmented text written in Ancient Common Tongue, its words also faded by time:
**—Record Keeper: Kallen Whisper, resident partner of the Whispering Grove Fair Chamber of Commerce—
**—Crystal Era, Prosperity Era, Year 743—The Last Month of Autumn—Everything has changed—
**—The market has fallen—Resistance is futile—I could only hide here, hoping—
**—They're still up there—I can hear—scratching sounds—and—that indescribable—whispering—It's calling—
**—Food and water are almost gone—It seems quiet up there? No—something worse—I can feel—it's—
The entry ends abruptly, as if the writer's life ended with it.
Closing the tattered diary, Roland's gaze fell once more upon the skeletal remains known as Kallen Whisper.
This merchant from the Crystal Era had clearly encountered some terrifying, indescribable catastrophe at Whispering Grove Fair, forcing him to hide here and ultimately perish silently.
"So... what exactly happened back then?"
A heavy suspicion arose in Roland's heart, and he couldn't help but recall his experience at Observation Post No. 7. The scene there also bore traces of a hasty evacuation; the researchers seemed to have encountered some sudden, catastrophic event, leaving them no time to take many of their important belongings and data.
"Could it be... an Abyssal Invasion?"
This thought naturally surfaced. After all, the Epic of Heroes recorded numerous encounters between legendary figures of the Crystal Era, including Rudolph, and the terrifying entities from the abyss. These were dark forces capable of shaking the very foundations of the world.
"But..."
The moment this thought arose, Roland felt a flicker of doubt. During his adventures in the Golden Valley Kingdom, he hadn't been without his share of battles against abyssal demons and devils from the nine hells. They were indeed powerful, cunning, and their individual strength was impressive, but it seemed...
...not enough to cause a disaster of such magnitude, one capable of obliterating an entire glorious civilization. Even if the entities he faced in Golden Valley weren't the highest-ranking beings of the abyss, considering the technological and transcendent prowess displayed by the Aetheron Continent during the Crystal Era, their strength far surpassed that of the continent he hailed from.
What kind of Abyssal Invasion could have nearly annihilated a civilization like this?
"Perhaps..."
Roland recalled his conversation with Bronson at the Blackwater Territory Manor and mused thoughtfully.
"The Abyssal Invasion may indeed have occurred, but it might not have been the sole cause of Aetheron's downfall—or even the root cause."
"The true origin might lie in that mysterious force that drained the magic element from the entire world? But... never mind."
The clues were fragmented and contradictory.
With only the existing information, it was impossible to piece together the complete truth, no matter how he tried to deduce it.
Shaking his head amidst his jumbled thoughts, Roland temporarily set aside these grand mysteries.
His gaze turned to the relatively well-preserved small warehouse.
He first approached the tall shelves, where the neatly arranged items were mostly wrapped in oiled cloth or leather.
However, when he carefully unwrapped the fragile coverings, he found that the contents—whether dried meat strips, compressed grain blocks, or other food items whose original forms were unrecognizable—had long since rotted away over the centuries.
They had crumbled into grayish-brown dust, leaving behind an indescribable, musty odor.
He turned and walked toward the metal weapon rack.
His fingers lightly touched the hilt of a dust-covered longsword and drew it halfway from its scabbard.
The blade still faintly gleamed with a cold light, its extraordinary material evident to the touch. He could even sense the faint traces of magic that had almost completely dissipated.
These weapons and armor must have been exquisite enchanted artifacts in their day.
Alas, even the most powerful enchantments could not withstand the passage of time. The mana circuits within their structure had long since collapsed, and the materials themselves had become brittle.
He suspected that a single forceful swing would cause them to shatter completely, reducing them to mere ornaments.
Finally, he pinned his hopes on the stacked wooden crates.
Opening the lids revealed mostly residues that had turned to dust or black, viscous sludge.
But after rummaging through several boxes, he finally made a discovery.
A smaller, more tightly sealed chest contained some treated medicinal herbs.
Though most had also decayed, a few, perhaps due to their careful preservation, still retained their form and some of their potency.
The materials needed for the body tempering and tempering techniques were not particularly rare or exotic. Thus, among these few surviving herbs, Roland successfully gathered most of what he needed.
"Lucky find," Roland muttered.
He carefully gathered the usable medicinal herbs, then tossed them all through the temporary spatial gate opened by the Mystic Die.
After brushing the dust off his hands and surveying the small warehouse again to confirm he hadn't missed any valuable corners, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind.
When he saw the bunch of keys clutched in the merchant Kallen's skeletal remains, he had assumed there would be hidden doors or secret chambers within the warehouse.
But now, it seemed the space was completely open.
Perhaps those keys were meant to unlock the merchant's other properties or storage sites outside the Whispering Grove Fair. But that was impossible to verify now.
With this thought, he turned back to the skeletal remains leaning against the wall. With solemn respect, he bowed slightly, offering a final tribute to the victim of a thousand years past and an apology for taking his relics.
Having done this, he didn't linger. He returned to the entrance below.
Extending his senses upward, he carefully scanned the surroundings for any signs of dangerous creatures. Confirming the area was clear, he leaped lightly upward, landing steadily on the charred ground.
As evening deepened, the gray sky grew even more somber, and the last slivers of daylight rapidly faded.
Roland gazed westward at the dim glow of the sun sinking below the horizon, nodding in satisfaction.
This trip to the Whispering Grove Fair, though marked by unexpected battles, had yielded far more than he'd anticipated.
He had not only gathered most of the materials needed for his cultivation but also achieved the 100 kills required to become a berserker. Coupled with the mysterious key left behind by merchant Kallen, which he hadn't yet used, his gains were substantial.
With a few days' effort, aided by the Job Panel and my current physical foundation, mastering the two tempering techniques and the body tempering technique will be a natural progression, Roland calculated.
At that point, becoming a berserker will be within reach.
Having composed himself and oriented himself, Roland set off along the path he had taken.
His figure moved through the deepening twilight and gray mist, finally spotting the familiar silhouette of The Granary Hall in the distance before night fully enveloped the desolate land—a shape that, in the dim light, resembled a giant beast crouching low.
After returning to the shell ship, Roland first checked on Durga and the others, confirming that they hadn't encountered any anomalies during their stay.
Learning that it would take approximately seven more days to collect enough purified water and synthesize the improved Rock Core Blocks, he gave a few brief instructions before heading into a quiet cabin within the shell ship to begin cultivating the body tempering and tempering techniques.
Though the names and specific focuses of these techniques varied, their fundamental principles were largely the same as the Mithril Body Tempering Technique he had previously mastered.
The process invariably involved grinding specific medicinal herbs into a liquid and applying it to the entire body to stimulate the skin, tendons, and bones, or dissolving the liquid in water for a medicinal bath, guiding the medicinal properties to penetrate the body. Combined with special breathing rhythms and mental focus, this achieved the effects of toughening the body and awakening latent potential.
With his prior experience in the Mithril Body Tempering Technique, Roland was already well-versed in this process.
He strictly followed the methods described, processing the herbs and preparing the medicinal liquid, and soon entered a state of cultivation.
Within moments, the corresponding notifications appeared on his Job Panel as expected:
Skill Learned: Hundred-Refined Tough-Skin Method, Level 1
Skill Learned: Blood-Boiling Bone-Tempering Chapter, Level 1
Skill Learned: Mountain Breathing Body Tempering Art, Current Level: Lv. 1
In the following days, Roland poured nearly all his energy into cultivating these three techniques.
Thanks to his now superhuman physical constitution, he no longer needed long periods of rest after each session, as he had when first learning the Mithril Body Tempering Technique.
This allowed his cultivation progress to advance at an astonishing pace.
As his practice continued, he could clearly sense subtle yet persistent changes occurring within his body.
Under the repeated stimulation of medicinal energy and nourishment from the energy, his skin and membranes grew denser and more resilient.
A faint tingling and warmth often radiated from the depths of his bones.
This was the sign of increasing bone density and structural reinforcement, as if they were transforming into something akin to a hundred strands of fine steel, capable of withstanding even greater impacts and loads.
Meanwhile, the breathing rhythm and methods—distinct from those of the Knight path—seemed to be adjusting his body's inherent frequency.
This made muscle fiber contractions more efficient, energy transfer smoother, and his entire lower body exceptionally stable. When standing still, he even exuded a trace of the mountain's steadfast presence.
Under this relentless and efficient cultivation, time flew by.
In just a few days, the three golden lines of text Roland had long awaited finally appeared simultaneously in his vision:
Skill: Hundred-Refined Tough-Skin Method has reached maximum level.
Skill: Blood-Boiling Bone-Tempering Chapter has reached maximum level.
Skill: Mountain Breathing Body Tempering Art has reached maximum level.
All prerequisites met, Roland took a deep breath and silently chanted in his heart:
"I choose the Berserker class."
(End of the Chapter)
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