Translator: CinderTL
Roland took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He then picked up the ancient map book he had just found, which was labeled "Observation Post No. 7 Structural Diagram."
By the light of his Dancing Lights spell, his finger traced the complex lines and annotations on the map, carefully cross-referencing his current position.
After a moment, he confirmed that he was indeed in the "central database" marked on the map.
And the area he had fallen into directly from the Great Sinkhole when he first entered the ruins was, as it turned out, right above the core zone of the entire observation post.
The "Bottom-level Protocol Hall," the key location mentioned in the notes, was shown on the map to be located to the east of this database—perfectly aligning with the direction behind the intact metal door before him.
His goal was clear, though the path ahead remained unknown.
Roland shifted his gaze from the map back to the sealed door. The massive gate stood like a silent maw, swallowing all light and sound.
He turned his head and spoke softly to the pixie perched on his shoulder, who was wide-eyed and scanning the eerie surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of fear.
"Tracy, do you remember what I told you before?"
"Of course, Roland!"
Tracy nodded her small head vigorously, her expression turning serious.
She stopped scanning her surroundings, instead clasping her tiny hands in front of her chest before slowly pushing them forward.
In an instant, a soft, pure glow radiated from her, spreading outward like ripples on water, silently washing over the surrounding space.
Immediately, the mana elements that had been stagnating in the air like a gelatinous, chaotic mess seemed to be infused with a certain "order" under the gentle light.
They began to "loosen," their disordered entanglement gradually subsiding. The chaotic fluctuations were smoothed out, eventually transforming into the familiar, orderly flow of mana—like a clear stream—that Roland knew from the outside world.
Though the area was small, covering only a few meters around Roland, it undoubtedly created a precious "oasis" within this cursed mana desert.
"But..."
Tracy's small brow furrowed slightly, her voice strained.
"Roland, the environment here is truly strange. There is a force resisting my attempts to smooth it out. I can only influence a very small area around us, and... maintaining this state is draining me heavily. I'm afraid I won't be able to hold it for long."
"It's alright. This is enough," Roland nodded gently, a sense of relief washing over him.
During their fierce battle against the mind flayers in Howling Gorge, it was Tracy's ability to manipulate the surrounding mana—reducing the burden on his spellcasting—that had proven unexpectedly crucial.
Therefore, upon arriving in Aetheron and experiencing the eerie stagnation of its mana firsthand, he had asked Tracy to see if she could influence the environment. The result was a pleasant surprise: her innate talent could indeed "purify" or "smooth out" the chaotic mana in this area to some extent.
Although he had been unable to emulate the drow's instinctive method of drawing mana through direct resonance with the World Tree while studying spells under Duerden—due to their racial differences—he had still managed to master several practical low-circle spells. He still relied on the dragonbone magical artifact on his wrist as a medium to channel mana, but he had indeed acquired a handful of useful spells.
Now, with Tracy's help, the mana in this area had temporarily become "usable," meaning he could finally cast those spells properly.
Relying on his formidable melee prowess as his foundation, Roland supplemented it with a variety of low-circle spells, each with distinct effects capable of turning the tide of battle at critical moments.
Even if unknown dangers lurked behind the door, and even if he couldn't defeat them in a direct confrontation, he was confident that these means would allow him to escape with ease.
His decision made, he hesitated no longer.
Roland steadied his breathing, tightened his grip on the Radiant Moon Longsword, and slowly raised his other hand, pressing it against the cold, dust-covered metal door.
With a slight push, the heavy door creaked open a crack, the sound low and dry.
As the massive metal door swung open, a stench thicker than the air outside wafted out—a mixture of stale dust and a faint, lingering scent of blood.
Beyond the door lay a sloping passage leading downward, even dimmer than the central database. The darkness seemed to swallow the light from his spell, illuminating only a limited area.
Roland held his breath, carefully guiding the light orb forward.
The light crept ahead, gradually revealing the scene at the far end of the passage.
The first thing to enter his vision was a scattered array of... on the cold metal floor.
...corpses.
Their attire was all too familiar to Roland: the uniforms of the Rust Knight Order.
The blood had long since dried and blackened, appearing as deep purple stains under the dim blue light, spreading in vast patches across the floor and walls.
The bodies lay in various contorted positions—some face-down, others face-up. Most were missing limbs, a grim testament to the brutal battle they had endured in their final moments.
So, the danger Hagrid warned me about is here, Roland realized.
He quickly averted his gaze from the lifeless remains, his eyes scanning the deeper darkness of the corridor with heightened vigilance.
But before his vision could register any more information, his superhuman senses—already taut as a plucked string—shrieked a warning of imminent danger.
Sssshhh...
A faint, dense rustling sound erupted simultaneously from the shadows ahead, behind, and to the sides, moving with terrifying speed.
It was as if the darkness itself had come alive, surging forward in a tidal wave.
The very instant he sensed the threat, several dark figures tore through the dimness at the edge of his light sphere, lunging at him like wraiths.
Their movements were impossibly swift, cutting through the air with a piercing whistle as they aimed straight for his vitals.
Yet, faced with this sudden ambush, Roland—who had been prepared all along—remained as calm as ice.
Though his vision was limited, his senses, augmented by various traits, had already acted like an invisible radar, clearly outlining the position, movement, and even the attack trajectory of every assailant.
Without a single wasted motion, a mere flick of his wrist sent the Radiant Moon Longsword flashing through the gloom as a silver streak, nearly impossible to track.
Clang!
Shink!
Thud!
The sharp ring of clashing metal, the dull thud of a blade cutting flesh, and the bone-shattering impact of something being hurled away by brute force all erupted in the same instant.
The silver light wove a web of death around him. Every shadow that lunged forward was either flung backward faster than it had arrived, or shattered and collapsed to the ground the moment it touched the blade's arc.
The entire sequence unfolded in a flash, so brief it felt like an illusion.
When the last shadow's chest was crushed by the sword's spine, sending it slamming into the wall, silence returned to the corridor, broken only by the fresh scent of blood filling the air.
Roland flicked his wrist, shaking the warm droplets of blood from the blade. As the light from the sphere stabilized, he leaned in to examine the attackers' true faces.
But the sight that met his eyes made a flicker of surprise cross his face.
Lying on the ground were several bodies, nearly identical to humans.
They had limbs, torsos, and faces that resembled ordinary people, though their features were twisted with a subtle distortion.
Then, Roland noticed what was truly wrong with them.
These "humans" were unnaturally smooth, completely devoid of hair.
No hair on their heads, no eyebrows, no body hair—they looked like meticulously polished, pale stone statues.
Even more unsettling were their eyes.
The sockets contained only a turbid, pupilless white, clearly long since blind.
Their open mouths revealed teeth too sharp for any human, snarling with a bestial ferocity.
Roland's brow furrowed as he stared at the humanoid creatures.
Are these... the descendants of human survivors, mutated by the environment after being trapped in these dark ruins for generations? Or some kind of... experimental product?
Unable to reach a definitive conclusion, he suppressed his doubts for now.
Steeling himself, he continued cautiously down the descending passage.
Along the way, he encountered several more waves of similar, grotesque "human" attacks. But before Roland's absolute might, these assaults were like moths to a flame, easily extinguished by the Radiant Moon Longsword. They failed to hinder him in the slightest.
After what seemed like an eternity in the dim, twisting corridors, the path ahead suddenly opened up. A massive, imposing metal gate, far more grand and heavy than any he had seen before, blocked his way.
The gate's surface was covered in intricate mechanical patterns. At its very center was embedded a fist-sized, precision-engineered sphere.
It was the "Entropic Cinder Core" he had seen in the illustrated guides.
But now, the core was dull and lifeless. Its surface was webbed with cracks and rust, and there was no hint of energy flowing within. It had clearly been drained of all power and rendered completely inert by the passage of ages.
Roland stepped forward, extending his senses like tentacles to probe the space beyond the gate.
The feedback remained a void of deathly silence. No signs of life—only the cold, hollow emptiness of dormant machinery.
Confirming his temporary safety, Roland sheathed the Radiant Moon Longsword and pressed both palms firmly against the cold, heavy metal of the gate.
He took a deep breath, and the dragon bloodline within him surged, instantly channeling a torrent of strength into his arms.
Creeeak—CLANG!
As he slowly applied force, a tooth-grinding screech erupted—the sound of metal bones being forcibly snapped.
The Entropic Cinder Core, deprived of the energy that had once sustained it, was the first to buckle under the immense mechanical stress. The cracks on its surface spider-webbed outward until it shattered with a soft pop, its dull fragments peeling away from the socket.
With the core's lock broken, the massive door groaned under Roland's colossal strength, swinging inward with a series of heavy thuds to reveal a gap wide enough for a person to pass through.
The moment the door yielded—
Szzzt... Wel...come... to... Ob...servation... Post... No. 7... Visitor... How... may... I... assist... you...
A fragmented, heavily distorted female voice, completely mechanical and laced with static, abruptly echoed from the empty space beyond the door.
But the voice lasted less than three seconds before being swallowed by a crescendo of static, falling utterly silent once more.
Yet, just before the voice vanished completely, as if linked to it, the rows of embedded light strips on the ceiling of the once-dark space behind the door suddenly flared to life. They emitted a steady, cold white glow, instantly illuminating the entire area like broad daylight.
The sudden glare made Roland instinctively squint. After his eyes quickly adjusted, he gazed warily into the room.
Before him lay a vast hall of staggering height. Its walls were covered with countless darkened screens and intricate optical circuit interfaces. In the center of the hall, dozens of waist-high metal platforms were arranged in neat rows, most of them empty and thick with dust.
However, his gaze was instantly drawn to one of the platforms.
On that platform, located relatively centrally in the hall, a soft, rippling blue pillar of energy was being projected from above. Within the light, a square plate, roughly the size of a palm, floated silently. Its body was a dark silver, its edges flowing with faint golden runes. It rotated slowly and silently, emitting a restrained yet profound energy fluctuation that clashed jarringly with the dead silence of its surroundings.
"So that's..."
Roland recalled the thrilling entry in that researcher's notebook.
"...An 'adaptive substrate' capable of resonating with extraordinary power?"
(End of the Chapter)
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