Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

In that instant, heaven and earth changed color.

The once-docile warhorses shrieked in despair, their legs buckled, and they crashed to the ground.

The soldiers ahead, retreating in an orderly fashion, crumpled one after another as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer, losing consciousness in an instant.

Even the fully armored and resolute Sean at his side let out a muffled sound.

"THUD!"

His burly frame suddenly fell to his knees, his head bowing low as if under immense pressure.

Veins bulged on his forehead and he clenched his jaw, but not a single sound escaped his lips.

This sudden, violent change nearly stopped Roland’s heart. A cold Fear, originating from the depths of his soul, gripped him instantly.

His body tensed. Almost instinctively, he took a deep, shuddering breath of the hot, heavy air.

Then, with extreme stiffness, he turned around inch by agonizing inch.

A few moments later, his vision was consumed by a Shadow of unimaginable size.

But it wasn’t a mountain or a cliff face.

It was... a foot.

It was covered in ancient, thick, terrifying Scales that gleamed with the metallic luster of bronze.

The part of the foot planted on the ground alone was taller than Roland himself.

Its monstrous silhouette blotted out all light before him, radiating an oppressive, despair-inducing aura.

He couldn’t even tilt his head back far enough to see the creature in its entirety.

The horrifying foot alone was the absolute limit of his field of vision.

"Scum..."

Just as Roland’s mind reeled in shock, a deep, heavy voice of indiscernible gender boomed by his ear without warning.

It was followed by a sickening thud.

"THUD!"

He glanced out of the corner of his eye.

He saw Knight Beckham—the man who had just effortlessly slain over three hundred Demons with a single strike—crash heavily to the ground nearby, like a puppet with its strings cut.

His once-dazzling silver Plate Armor was now shattered, nearly pulverized, revealing the burly, blood-soaked body beneath.

And of the frigid, gleaming sword he had once gripped so tightly, only a bare, lonely hilt remained.

Yet, the Knight’s spine was not broken.

Even facing this mythical, world-ending behemoth, even with his body shattered, he still pressed his blood-soaked hands firmly against the ground. An unyielding growl rumbled in his throat as he tried to rise again from the very earth now stained with his own blood.

But...

"Kneel."

The deep voice sounded again.

It was as soft as a whisper, yet it struck Beckham’s shoulders with the weight of a thousand mountains.

"THUMP!"

The next moment, the Knight, a wielder of Extraordinary Power, slammed into the ground on both knees, like a child crushed by an invisible giant’s hand.

He was pinned there by an irresistible, terrifying force, unable to move another inch before he lost consciousness.

"Scum..."

The mountain-heavy whisper crushed down upon his ears.

But unlike before, Roland detected a hint of confusion in its tone.

In an instant, however, an indescribable, terrifying pressure cascaded down with every syllable, crashing over him like a physical tsunami.

Roland’s bones let out an audible, grating groan.

He was completely unable to resist. As if struck by an invisible tidal wave, he staggered backward dozens of paces, his leather boots gouging two long furrows into the hard earth.

When he gritted his teeth and forced his head up with all his might,

the full, monstrous, terrifying form of the behemoth that blotted out the sky finally slammed into his view, completely unobstructed.

It was a living Bronze Mountain Range.

Its jagged spine pierced the smoky clouds. Beneath the ancient, bronze Scales covering its body, the dark-red light of Magma flowed like subterranean fire, and its every movement was accompanied by a deep, rumbling boom.

Its folded, membranous wings distorted the light, and its massive, bone-spurred tail easily tore open the earth.

And supporting this apocalyptic body were the very feet he had seen just moments before.

Its Scale-covered talons, like great scythes from Hell, were sunk deep into the earth.

And when an invisible force dragged Roland’s gaze upward to its towering head...

He saw a pair of eyes.

Two vortexes of Magma, Burning in the Darkness.

The edges of their vertical pupils were a seething, sulfur-gold flame. Deep within them roiled an all-consuming rage and an ancient, glacial cold.

A mere glance was enough to make Roland’s soul feel as if it had been cast into a furnace, burning and wailing under a gaze of pure Destruction.

"So, it was you... Heh... A mere mortal dares to steal my remains..."

After taking a deep breath, Roland endured the pain wracking his body, lowered his gaze, and bowed slightly.

"My apologies. I wasn’t aware those remains were yours..."

Before he could finish, a soft gasp sounded beside his ear.

Then, a gust of wind swept past him, and the great, monstrous head of the dragon suddenly filled his vision.

But unlike its soul-freezing glare from before, the Giant Dragon’s eyes now held an almost imperceptible hint of surprise.

"You... can understand my speech?"

As it spoke, the crushing pressure instantly vanished.

Roland seized the opportunity to take a deep breath, his previously frozen thoughts beginning to race.

’It’s [Animal Companion]!’

In an instant, Roland grasped the crux of the matter.

The Dragon Race, being creatures of myth and legend, have a language all their own.

It is ancient, mysterious, and imbued with arcane and formidable Power.

Normally, no other Race could possibly understand it, save for those who carry the blood of dragons.

Yet now, thanks to his [Animal Companion] Trait, Roland had miraculously established a connection with the Giant Dragon.

This sudden ability to communicate made the Giant Dragon, which had looked down upon all creation, pull back its aggressive demeanor.

After all, while Giant Dragons were renowned in ancient texts for their immense power, another, lesser-known name for them was "the lonely."

Bound by some unknown Rule, the Dragon Race has an exceedingly low birth rate. This gives Giant Dragons an innate and indescribable affinity for their own kind.

But after only a moment, the hint of surprise in the Giant Dragon’s eyes faded, replaced by an undisguised disappointment.

It could clearly discern that Roland was not one of its kind, merely a pure-blooded human.

"A human who understands my speech... It seems... you are a descendant of Rudolph..."

Its voice carried a trace of unfading nostalgia.

"Perhaps it is fate..."

The Giant Dragon raised its head once more, its mountain-like hand extending slightly.

In an instant, a drop of liquid shimmering with golden light materialized before Roland.

"By my pact with Rudolph, it... belongs to you." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Before the deep words had even faded, the drop of gold liquid shot toward Roland’s forehead.

It seeped silently through his skin, merging with him.

It all happened in a flash. Before Roland could even react, the gold liquid transformed into a destructive torrent, rampaging through his body.

A searing pain like Magma tore through his entire body; his meridians and bones felt as if they were Burning.

More lethally, the searing heat pierced straight to his soul.

He felt his very core "existence"—

His memories, his emotions, his will...

All of it ignited by an invisible flame.

His soul twisted and shrieked in a sea of gold fire, on the verge of complete incineration.

The twofold agony of a burning body and a refining soul instantly shattered all of Roland’s Perception.

His vision was torn apart by golden light and Darkness, his ears filled with nothing but the sound of his boiling blood and his soul’s anguished cry.

The very thought of struggling had just surfaced before it was utterly drowned in boundless agony.

His last flicker of consciousness, like a candle in the wind, guttered weakly in the searing Hell.

Then, a cold, viscous, absolute Darkness surged in from all sides, swallowing him whole and plunging him into a boundless Abyss of Void.