Translator: CinderTL
"Living darkness... metal that moves on its own..."
Hagrid's weak, terror-stricken description echoed in Roland's mind.
"Living darkness... perhaps it refers to some unknown, uniquely shaped demonic beast? And 'metal that moves on its own' most likely means magitech constructs..."
Thinking of this, Roland felt little fear.
If they were just ordinary demonic beasts, as long as they weren't legendary beings as terrifying as ancient dragons, he was confident his current strength was enough to deal with them.
As for magitech constructs...
His previous experience in the Demon Capital Gilles had already proven that those mechanical creations, eroded by time and operating only on basic commands, posed limited individual threats to a true transcendent professional.
Their only advantages were their sheer numbers, their tireless onslaughts, and their fearless nature.
But even such a tide had failed to pose a genuine threat to Graham.
And Roland's current strength far surpassed Graham's at that time.
"However..."
Roland's reason quickly suppressed a flicker of potential complacency.
After all, this was the Aetheron Continent, the cradle of a lost civilization. Coupled with the "curse" Hagrid had described—a phenomenon blanketing the entire continent and causing bizarre mutations in living beings—the situation within the Great Sinkhole was bound to be far from simple.
No one could say for sure whether the demonic beasts and constructs there had undergone horrific mutations beyond comprehension, becoming more dangerous and powerful than any of their kind he had ever encountered.
This caution dispelled Roland's idea of setting out immediately under the cover of night.
It was never a wise move to rush blindly into a perilous place with so little knowledge of the enemy.
Therefore, he waited until the next morning, resting and gathering his strength before proceeding with the exploration.
Once his decision was made, Roland informed his companions of his plan.
Avril and Galvis immediately expressed their desire to accompany him.
Roland was initially tempted to agree. After all, an extra reliable companion meant more strength and mutual support.
But as his gaze swept across the somewhat empty Gear Hall, taking in Durga and Bronson—who were completely absorbed in studying the ancient machinery—and the grey dwarf warriors standing guard on the perimeter, he changed his mind.
At present, their group was stranded on this strange and dangerous continent, and even this temporary stronghold was far from absolutely secure.
Though Roland had never witnessed Durga's full strength in action, his keen senses allowed him to gauge that she fell within the range of an ordinary transcendent—capable of handling common threats, but likely unable to stand alone against a truly formidable foe.
As for the other grey dwarf warriors, though they were numerous, none among them were transcendent professionals, making them ill-equipped for sudden, high-intensity combat.
Considering the overall safety of the team, as well as the need to protect Durga's research—which was crucial to their eventual escape from this place—Roland finally made his decision.
"Avril, Galvis."
His tone was calm but firm.
"I understand how you feel, but we need someone to hold the fort. Durga's research is too critical to be interrupted."
"Moreover, the stronghold itself requires sufficient strength to guard it. I trust your abilities. Staying behind to ensure everyone's safety is just as important."
Avril and Galvis exchanged a glance and could only nod gently.
The elf girl bit her lip lightly and spoke softly. "I understand, Roland. You must be very careful."
Galvis let out an exaggerated sigh, then immediately cheered up, waving his fist. "Alright, alright! Defending the rear is also an important chapter in an epic of heroes! But Roland, you have to promise me—when you get back, you must tell me every single thing you saw in that big pit, word for word! This will absolutely be a major chapter in Mortal Hero!"
Roland looked at his two companions, a faint smile appearing on his face. "I promise you I'll return as soon as possible."
After a few more brief discussions about the night watch arrangements and other details, the group found relatively comfortable spots for themselves in the spacious yet somewhat cold Gear Hall.
They lit a small campfire and, under the shroud of the wasteland's silent night, began their first rest after arriving in Aetheron—a rest that was perhaps destined not to be very peaceful.
Roland leaned against a cold metal pillar, closing his eyes to rest.
The night passed in a heavy, oppressive silence. No incidents occurred, save for the occasional, faint moans of some unknown indigenous being, echoing from the depths of Rust Town—sounds born of pain or nightmares.
When the first glimmer of dawn struggled to pierce the eternally murky Skyveil, casting mottled, lifeless patches of light upon the ruins, Roland slowly opened his eyes.
After a brief farewell to his companions, who were already awake, and reconfirming the arrangements for those staying behind, he packed his essential supplies. He secured the Radiant Moon Longsword at his waist and set off toward The Great Sinkhole to the northwest.
He hadn't gone far before a small, shimmering figure fluttered down to land lightly on his shoulder.
"Say, Roland... what's The Great Sinkhole actually like?"
The pixie's tiny face was alight with curiosity.
Roland turned his head to look at the small companion who had insisted on following him, then shook his head helplessly.
"How should I know, Tracy? Just like you, this is my first time going there."
Hearing this, Tracy playfully stuck out her tongue, then blinked her large eyes and asked, "Then why are you so determined to come to this seemingly terrible continent, and why are you in such a hurry to go to those ancient ruins? Is it just to obtain even greater strength?"
She tilted her small head, her expression full of confusion.
From what she had observed, although Roland had been constantly growing stronger, his core motivation didn't seem to stem from a pure greed for power.
"Strength? Perhaps..."
Roland's gaze drifted to the desolate horizon, his voice tinged with a sense of distance.
He recalled the moment he had first transmigrated into this world.
Back then, his desire for strength was to solve the immediate crisis at hand, to survive the chaos that would likely sweep through everything after the mana tide returned.
His goal had been simple and direct: He didn't want to die.
However, as his strength soared with the aid of the Job Panel, reaching a level where he could now look down upon the vast majority of mortal beings, his mindset had quietly shifted.
It wasn't so much that he was still "craving" strength, but rather that he was filled with curiosity about the various incredible power systems this world held.
Just as a traveler transported to a world of martial arts would be captivated by its exquisite techniques and profound internal energy, Roland was drawn to the mysteries of this land. He sought to understand the Way of the Knight, the secrets of spells, the nature of faith, and even the relics of the lost civilization before him. What was the true source and form of their power?
But beyond this curiosity, a deeper, more troubling thought weighed on his mind.
It was the enigma of "Rudolph."
If he were merely mistaken for Rudolph, or perhaps a descendant of his bloodline, then all would be well. Whatever the legendary Rudolph had done would have no direct bearing on him.
But what if... what if he was Rudolph himself?
The original owner of this body was clearly unrelated to the Rudolph who had left such an indelible mark on figures like Duerden and Durga.
Then, was it possible that at some point in the future, he would become Rudolph for some reason?
If this hypothesis held true, he would need to acquire enough power as quickly as possible to face that unknown "future."
Recalling the time traveler trait he had triggered in Golden Grain City, Roland felt a sudden chill run through him.
This continent was teeming with powers that defied all reason. His past life's superficial understanding of space and time might be utterly useless here.
Becoming Rudolph might be just one possibility among countless timelines. But if it truly happened, the events and challenges he would have to endure along the way would be his to face.
If he lacked sufficient strength by then, he might end up as another failed case, utterly annihilated in the torrent of some parallel dimension...
At this thought, Roland gently shook his head, as if trying to shake off these heavy, ethereal reflections.
Then, he reached out and lightly tapped Tracy's small head, changing the subject.
"Alright, little one, instead of thinking about all this, you'd better help me keep an eye on our surroundings."
Tracy obediently hummed in agreement, flapping her transparent wings to fly a bit higher, taking up her post as a temporary aerial sentry.
Roland composed himself, refocusing his attention on the road ahead, and quickened his pace.
After more than half a day of rapid travel, crossing a hilly region that was even more broken and ravaged than the one before—as if it had been repeatedly trampled by a colossal force—the scenery ahead suddenly changed. Or rather,
...it had suddenly collapsed.
This was no natural valley, but a colossal, awe-inspiring scar—a terrifying wound as if a massive chunk of the earth's surface had been brutally gouged away.
The edges of the Great Sinkhole were jagged and uneven, resembling the bite marks of some giant beast. The exposed rock strata gleamed with a glassy luster, a testament to being melted by intense heat or a massive impact before cooling.
The sinkhole's walls plunged almost vertically, descending into a bottomless abyss. Only a sliver of dim light managed to penetrate the depths before being swallowed by the profound darkness below.
Most striking, however, were certain areas along the rim.
There, massive and geometrically precise metallic structures, clearly not part of the natural rock, lay exposed. They were twisted, broken, and rusted, yet their very form stubbornly testified to the artificial nature of whatever lay buried beneath. It was as if some ancient, grand ruin, interred deep underground, had been violently torn open from above by an irresistible force, exposing it to the open sky of this wasteland.
Roland stood on the dizzying edge of the pit.
A fierce wind surged upward from the depths, carrying a scent of metallic rust, dust, and...
...an indescribable, ancient energy.
(End of the Chapter)
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