Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

In the shadows a short distance from the marsh, two figures held their breath, their gazes fixed on Roland’s every move on the cliff face.

Witch Vanessa was leaning against a twisted tree.

Her long purple hair remained perfectly still in the damp breeze, her deep eyes reflecting the fiery light of the distant, continuous explosions.

Her expression was indifferent, as if she were not watching a life-and-death struggle, but rather an amusing experimental demonstration.

When Roland conjured a fireball at his fingertips, Vanessa’s delicate eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Heh..."

Her cool voice, tinged with a faint trace of mockery, sounded beside Mason’s ear.

"These Chaos Creatures from the Outer Planes have a rather high resistance to Flame, so..."

She tilted her head slightly, her purple eyes—which seemed capable of piercing the thick fog—locking precisely onto Roland’s figure on the cliff.

"What will you do now, Mr. Roland?"

Before her words had even faded, a Fine Iron Arrow etched with intricate patterns was nocked on a Bowstring within her field of view.

The indifference in Vanessa’s eyes was instantly replaced by a flicker of genuine interest. She leaned forward slightly, intrigued.

TWANG!

The Bowstring sang, and the first Enchanted Arrow shot out, transforming into a streak of dim light.

And then...

BOOM!

A massive boom, far louder than expected—deep and piercing—tore through the air.

Reflected in the suddenly expanding fireball, Vanessa’s purple eyes clearly constricted for a moment. The flicker of amusement froze, replaced by a sharp, assessing gaze.

"Oh?"

This time, her voice rang out clearly, the final syllable rising with a rare, almost imperceptible lilt—a mix of surprise and a deeper amusement.

"It seems... Mr. Roland has mastered more than just basic Enchantment techniques."

Her gaze swept like a physical force across the turbulent Arcane Magic and fragments of Fine Iron left by the explosion, a light flashing quickly in the depths of her pupils.

"Crude materials... low Energy-utilization efficiency... a purely single-use consumable..."

She murmured, as if conducting a rapid analysis.

"But to apply basic Enchantment knowledge to this degree, compressing unstable Magic Elements into an Arrow for an instantaneous detonation..."

Her words paused for a barely perceptible moment as the Witch’s fingers unconsciously tightened around a lock of her purple hair.

"...it’s a crude, yet exceptionally effective, form of practical combat wisdom."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Several more deafening roars followed in quick succession, the scale and power of each explosion clearly reflected in her pupils.

Vanessa watched quietly, her fingers still toying with her purple hair.

But her initial nonchalance had completely vanished, replaced by a quiet Concentration, a re-evaluation of her prey’s worth.

"Uhm... Miss Vanessa, Roland... he’ll... he’ll be alright, won’t he?"

Mason’s face was pale, and his trembling voice betrayed his obvious discomfort, but his gaze toward Roland’s position was still filled with concern.

"Quiet, Mason."

Vanessa didn’t even turn to look at him, her purple eyes still locked on the distant Roland, who had lowered his Hunting Bow and was now surveying the battlefield.

Her gaze was like the most precise detection Array, meticulously scanning the residual Energy traces from the explosions and Roland’s condition.

A moment later, the Witch gave a slight nod and began to walk forward.

"Let’s go."

Her voice had returned to its usual coolness.

But beneath that coolness, there seemed to linger a trace of interest from her unexpected discovery, not yet fully subsided.

"It seems Mr. Roland has already finished clearing the way for us."

......

......

Meanwhile, Roland, still on the cliff, was obviously unaware of the Witch’s covert observation.

After spotting the deep, dark cavern, he didn’t act immediately, instead waiting patiently for a while longer.

Only after confirming that the marsh held no other signs of life—aside from the stench of rot and the restless residue of Elements—did he begin to climb cautiously down from the cliff’s edge, moving like a leopard melting into the Shadows.

His movements were light and precise, avoiding the remaining pools of acid, and he finally landed steadily on a patch of relatively firm earth at the edge of the swamp.

After a sharp glance around to confirm his safety, Roland’s attention was immediately drawn to several items scattered across the battlefield.

These weren’t random objects that had always been there; they were loot, Stripped and manifested by his [Plundering] Trait the moment the Slime Toads died. They now lay quietly beside the remains.

Most of the loot bore the mark of the foul swamp.

A few murky, dark-green acid crystals that seemed to have pus flowing within them.

A small piece of strange, plague-ridden leather covered in a viscous green film that pulsed faintly.

A few dull, serrated bone fragments with sharp edges.

A small pouch of peculiar moss spores that gave off a faint, sulfurous odor.

However, as Roland’s gaze swept past these items and fell upon the remains of a smaller Slime Toad with ominous, grayish-white skin, his pupils suddenly contracted.

There lay a completely different kind of gemstone.

It was about the size of a thumbnail and was an almost pure black, but within it seemed to hold a flowing river of stars.

Countless tiny silver specks of light flickered on and off in its dark depths.

The gem’s surface was smooth as a mirror, unstained by a single speck of mud or blood despite the filthy surroundings. It emanated a cold, restrained wave of Magic Power, completely out of place amid the surrounding Chaos and death.

It was set in an equally dark metal base of indeterminate material, which was engraved with extremely fine, unnatural spiral patterns that followed some unknown geometric principle.

Compared to the other loot, which reeked of filth or radiated an aura of Chaos, this Obsidian-like gem seemed exceptionally pure, cold... and powerful.

Roland cautiously extended his hand, his fingertips pausing for a moment just before touching the gem.

After confirming that no traps or Curses were triggered, he finally picked it up.

Gazing at the swirling Star Shards within, a guess formed in his mind.

’Could this be... the "Control Gemstone" Vanessa mentioned?’

Without hesitation, he put the black gem away along with the other valuable loot.

Only then did his gaze turn back to the deep, dark cavern that had been exposed by the explosion.

The entrance gaped open at an odd angle, like an ugly scar torn into the muddy bank. The scene inside was completely exposed.

Roland slowly approached.

He first paced cautiously around the entrance, his sharp eyes scanning the dirt at the edge, the scattered rubble, and any Shadows that might conceal a trap or an ambusher.

Then he cocked his head, listening for any faint sound that might come from within the cave.

After confirming the immediate vicinity of the entrance was safe, Roland moved to the edge like a silent Ghost. He crouched down, his body taut as a drawn Bowstring, ready to retreat or draw his sword at a moment’s notice.

His gaze then pierced through the dust and lingering smoke at the entrance, plunging into the cavern’s interior.

The cave was shallower and narrower than he had anticipated.

The violent explosion had caused part of the ceiling and one of the earthen walls to collapse, blowing the entrance wide open.

A few faint sunbeams, having managed to pierce the thick swamp fog, slanted in like miserly searchlights, illuminating most of the scene within.

The cavern wasn’t large, only about the size of an ordinary room.

The walls were damp, dark-brown earth, mixed with a tangled mess of black tree roots, and they gave off a heavy, earthy smell and an indescribable stench of decay.

The entire space was empty, with no partitions or branching paths.

But the sight in the center of the cavern made Roland’s brow furrow.

Standing there was a...

Table.

It wasn’t made of ordinary wood or stone, but had been pieced together and polished from some kind of massive, ghastly white, coarse bones. Large bone spurs could even be seen protruding from the joints.

The tabletop was flat, and on it were haphazardly arranged a collection of grisly offerings.

A humanoid skull, a few black Scales that glinted with an eerie light, a rough earthenware bowl filled with viscous blood that had long since congealed and turned black, and scattered on top of it all, the charred finger bones of some small creature and a few black raven feathers.

The entire tabletop reeked of a mixture of profanity and primitive gore; it was clearly an altar that had been used for a wicked ritual.

And in front of this bone altar, directly facing the entrance, stood a crudely nailed wooden cross covered in mildew and wormholes.

A figure was bound to the cross.

A striking, bright red figure.

The figure’s head was bowed, its body tightly bound to the cross with coarse vines and rusted iron chains in a twisted, awkward position.

But aside from being flecked with some dirt and bits of moss, there were no obvious wounds or bloodstains. It was as if they had simply fallen into a deep sleep in this ominous place.

Roland held his breath, his gaze falling upon the bowed face of the crimson figure.

But the expression that appeared on his face a moment later was not one of Fear or horror, but...

a flicker of surprise, mixed with a hint of absurdity.

And when a snore, rising and falling in volume, suddenly echoed through the narrow cavern, the look of absurdity on Roland’s face deepened.