Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

Gazing at the Shadows that continuously emerged from the mist to float in the air, Roland instantly recognized their identity.

Ghosts.

Roland had learned a little about this type of creature from commissions at the Adventurer’s Guild.

Their forms were indistinct, and they radiated a bone-chilling cold.

But the most important thing was...

Ordinary blades could not inflict any physical harm on them.

This was why Roland had deliberately avoided any commissions involving them when he was hunting Demons to become an Apprentice Knight.

After all, Demons like Snake-men and Lizardmen were far easier to handle than creatures of the Spiritual Body Type.

’These villagers... are as hospitable as ever...’

After struggling to make out a few familiar faces among the deep Shadows, Roland sighed softly. He then unhesitatingly thrust his palm forward, fingers splayed.

"Tress!"

The call dispelled the fear in the Pikachu’s heart.

Understanding Roland’s intent, Tress immediately responded.

In the next instant, a faint glimmer radiated out from her tiny body.

As Roland felt the once-stagnant Magic Elements begin to stir, he unreservedly channeled his Power.

Scorching Energy abruptly gathered in his outstretched palm, cutting through the frigid air.

A blazing, orange-red Flame materialized from thin air. It unleashed a staggering heatwave that instantly banished the surrounding chill, bathing the mist in a crimson glow. The drifting Ghosts recoiled, letting out silent shrieks.

Roland’s gaze sharpened, locking onto the closest pale Shadow as it lunged forward.

It was the Blacksmith, Barton, his once-honest face now twisted into a venomous phantasm.

Without a hint of hesitation, he flicked his wrist.

"Go!"

The hyper-compressed fireball became a searing streak of light, tearing through the mist before erupting violently right in front of the Ghosts.

There was no muffled thud of a physical impact, only the sizzling, crackling roar of Flame violently clashing with Spirit Bodies.

BOOM!

The blinding light instantly engulfed the pale phantoms. They couldn’t even manage a proper wail before the pure Fire Element incinerated them, causing them to twist violently and disintegrate. They turned into a wisp of green smoke and a few sparks, then vanished completely into the cold air.

The entire process was as swift as lightning, clean and decisive.

In a flash, only fading embers remained, drifting slowly downward. They briefly illuminated a small patch of the dense fog, revealing Roland’s face, as placid as still water.

As the cold sea breeze swept through, the air where the Ghosts had been annihilated began to distort violently.

Then, clusters of bright, ethereal blue light began to coalesce.

It was not a single entity, but a convergence of dozens of minuscule, flickering fluorescent specks.

Extending his Spiritual Power, Roland discovered that each point of ethereal blue light carried the most fervent emotional imprint from the depths of a Ghost’s soul.

The tiny phantom of a perpetually hammering anvil.

A wisp of light like softly winding thread.

A simple grass ring, yet it shone with a persistent glimmer.

The silhouette of a curled-up infant, radiating a warm yet sorrowful intent of a Guardian.

"This is..."

Roland’s brow furrowed as he stared at the ethereal blue halo suspended in midair, woven from innumerable fragments of emotion.

’The effect of the Plundering Trait?’

In that brief moment, the halo had already coalesced into a solid cluster of light.

A clearly discernible wave of Energy emanated from it.

’This wave of energy...’

Roland’s Perception was instantly triggered.

’An Energy wave from the same source as the Heartstealer blood?’

Before Roland could make sense of his confusion, something unexpected happened.

As if answering an irresistible summons, the suspended, solid cluster of light abruptly transformed into a streak of ethereal blue light. Moving far faster than Roland could react, it shot straight for the leather pouch at his waist.

"What?"

Roland’s eyes narrowed. His hand instinctively went to his pouch, but he only felt a slight tremor from the leather.

The streak of light had passed through the pouch unimpeded, plunging precisely into the bottle containing the Heartstealer blood.

The entire thing happened in the blink of an eye.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Roland whipped the Alchemy Bottle out of his pouch and held it up to inspect it.

The once-viscous, almost stagnant purplish-black blood was now squirming and churning slowly, like a living creature waking from a deep slumber.

The cold, greasy waves of Spiritual Energy contamination also grew more active and distinct, surging like a silent tide within the bottle.

The strange development filled Roland with questions, but he knew this was no time to investigate.

Stirred by the recent battle, the malice lurking in the village’s dense fog grew more agitated. A cold killing intent pricked at him from all directions, as sharp as physical needles.

Staying here would only drag him deeper into the mire.

Without the slightest hesitation, Roland returned the bottle of Heartstealer blood to his pouch. He then turned decisively and began to retreat, his steps steady but swift, heading back toward the coast.

Tress clung tightly to his pauldron, her small wings trembling nervously.

The cold, damp sea wind rushed to meet him, carrying its familiar salty tang.

The silhouette of the small boat he’d arrived in was faintly visible through the thin mist.

Just as he was a mere dozen steps from the shore, the moment his feet touched the edge of the wet sand, his Hydrological Intuition flared to life.

It wasn’t the gentle ripple that usually indicated a good fishing spot.

In the dark depths of the seemingly calm sea before him, a dense, hair-raising constellation of crimson dots instantly appeared.

Countless rippling markers, each representing a "fish-like creature," filled the surrounding waters for dozens of meters. They were layered thick as boiling blood bubbles, their numbers staggering.

They were motionless, radiating a cold and frenzied predatory aura, like an invisible net that had long been lying in wait.

’There’s an ambush underwater!’

Alarm bells screamed in Roland’s mind. He stopped dead in his tracks, his muscles tensing instantly.

The next moment... SPLASH!

The calm surface of the sea exploded as if a giant stone had been dropped into it.

A dozen tall, ferocious figures covered in dark green scales erupted from the waves. They brought with them a nauseating stench—a mix of fish and blood—as they slammed down onto the shallows, kicking up murky water and sand and instantly surrounding Roland.

’Shahua Fishmen?’

Seeing this, Roland decisively drew the Mithril Longsword at his hip, his eyes narrowing.

The Shahua Fishmen hunched their powerful torsos forward. Their webbed claws gripped rust-stained tridents and Bone Blades, and their slime-coated scales reflected a greasy sheen in the dim light.

But the most unsettling thing was their eyes.

They weren’t the murky yellow or cunning emerald green common to Fishmen.

Every pair of eyes burned with a pure, frenzied, and utterly mindless crimson glow.

Their pupils were constricted to pinpricks, the whites of their eyes completely suffused with red. Churning within was nothing but the most primal urge to slaughter and a lust for Destruction.

They were identical to the Shahua Fishmen Roland had encountered at sea after leaving Distant Harbor on his way to the River Domain.