Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

Rudolph.

The name was both familiar and strange to Roland.

He had heard it once before in the ravings of a Giant Dragon.

Afterward, he had tried to uncover the story behind the name.

But even after scouring all the tomes Bronson carried, he couldn’t find any more records of this person.

The only related piece of information was the tale of him resisting the demon invasion of the mortal world at the Eye of the Abyss.

Beyond that, there was nothing.

So...

Why did the man before him, Van Buren, think he was Rudolph’s incarnation?

Was it just because of the Giant Dragon Bloodline that had yet to fully merge with his body?

These thoughts flashed through Roland’s mind in an instant.

Feeling the immense force surging through the blade, he deftly twisted his wrist. His sword tilted, deflecting the power as he stomped hard on the scorched earth and used the momentum to rapidly retreat.

A glance at the desolate battlefield from the corner of his eye sent a chill through his heart.

The pain and exhaustion in his body had indeed vanished, but he was absolutely certain he had fought a bloody battle all the way to the top of the High Tower.

But...

The solid feel of the earth beneath his feet, the heavy stench of rust and blood that had settled in the air over countless ages—everything screamed that this was real.

’This is definitely not an Illusion Technique or a Spiritual Shock, or my Will of Steel would have reacted... So, what kind of ability is this?’

He recalled the instantaneous change of scenery, and Van Buren’s words...

’Will Territory, Law Manifestation?’

Roland’s brow furrowed deeply.

Just as his focus wavered, Van Buren’s attack arrived like a shadow!

CLANG!

Sparks flew!

In the instant he parried, Roland was shocked to realize he wasn’t holding his familiar Secret Silver Longsword, but an ordinary Iron Sword, its edge even showing traces of rust.

The Silver Shield strapped to his left arm was gone, and even the section of Keel he used as a bracer had vanished.

However, he had no time to dwell on these questions.

"Damn it!"

Roland cursed inwardly, feeling the tingling numbness spreading through his palm and wrist.

He could clearly feel that although his condition had returned to its peak, his Power and Agility were suppressed to varying degrees for some unknown reason, as if shackled by an invisible weight.

He took a deep breath, trying to adjust, but another lethal attack was already upon him.

The scarlet pupils locked onto him were filled with a bone-chilling, awe-inspiring killing intent.

Roland had no doubt.

If he didn’t give it his all, the Paladin before him—who had seemed so elegant and courteous just a moment ago—would cut off his head without the slightest hesitation.

At that thought, he violently cast aside all distracting thoughts, focusing his entire mind on the life-and-death battle before him.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The sound of metal clashing was as dense as falling rain.

In the space of a few breaths, the two had already exchanged more than a dozen blows.

Van Buren’s Sword Momentum was as heavy as a mountain, yet his speed was as fast as a phantom’s.

Roland felt like a child trying to stop a tsunami. Every time their weapons met, the immense force made his arms go numb and his bones groan in agony.

He dodged a fraction too slow, and the cold wind from the blade grazed his left shoulder.

Although he wasn’t directly hit by the blade, the terrifying impact contained within the attack slammed into his chest. His vision went black, he almost suffocated, and the thick, metallic taste of blood rose in his throat.

In the face of absolute suppression of Power, any exquisite Combat Skills seemed to become useless, flowery flourishes.

Roland could only rely on his extraordinary combat instincts and the scorching Fighting Spirit forcibly circulated by the Nameless Breathing Technique to miserably dodge and parry under the opponent’s torrential onslaught, staggering back step by step.

His heavy steps gouged deep pits one after another into the cracked, scorched earth beneath him.

’His Power is immense... his speed is astonishing...’

After being thrown back staggeringly once more, nearly losing his grip on the rusty Iron Sword, a sharp glint flashed in Roland’s eyes as he forcibly suppressed the churning Blood Qi that made him want to vomit.

’In terms of raw physical ability, he’s on par with an ordinary Transcendent like Reggie. As for his Combat Skills... they’ve reached an impeccable Realm. But other than that...’

He gritted his teeth and parried a diagonal slash, sending sparks flying.

’He doesn’t seem to have any other special abilities.’

The disappearance of the Keel meant he could no longer use his Tricks, but this didn’t harm his fundamental combat strength.

Or rather, in the face of his opponent’s pure, overwhelming Power, such petty tricks were useless to begin with.

’Since you want to test me...’

Roland roared inwardly, feeling the dull ache in his left shoulder and the fiery, tearing pain in the web of his hand.

’Then I’ll give you what you want!’

With a single thought, the Concentration Trait activated!

The world suddenly slowed down.

Van Buren’s sharp, decisive movements became clear and discernible in his eyes.

However, his accelerated thoughts couldn’t fully compensate for his body’s lag; his reactions still couldn’t keep up with that torrential speed.

He could barely see the trajectory of the attacking blade, but his body felt as heavy as lead.

Although he managed to turn his body to avoid a fatal blow, the cold blade still sliced a shallow gash across his ribs.

’Not enough!’

The new pain stimulated his nerves. As Roland retreated step by step under the relentless assault, his blood began to boil as if it had been set on fire.

Fermented Battle Intent, activate!

BOOM!

His rushing blood resonated with the scorching Fighting Spirit generated by the Nameless Breathing Technique.

His skin began to take on an unnatural, flushed hue. His muscles bulged, and Power surged and roared through his veins.

This burst of Power temporarily suppressed the soreness in his muscles and the trouble from his injuries. His parries were no longer so clumsy, and he managed to stabilize his retreating steps.

’Still not enough!’

Despite the improvement, Van Buren’s attacks were still so heavy that they made his arms tremble.

Facing an oppressive presence that felt as if it could slice through space itself, Roland let out a furious roar.

From the deepest corner of his consciousness, a cold and powerful Energy abruptly awakened.

Mental Self-Formation!

Spiritual Energy, like invisible liquid metal, instantly flowed across his entire body. It finally formed a tough, unseen Armor that fused tightly with his flesh and Spirit, bringing with it an unprecedented sense of refinement and control.

This cold power seemed to freeze the pain from his wounds. It forcibly stabilized his trembling arms and sharpened his focus, pushing his control over his body to a critical point.

CLANG!

Another brutal, straightforward clash!

Sparks violently erupted between the rusty Iron Sword and the bright silver Longsword.

"Hm?"

He noticed the force transmitted from the blade had suddenly intensified, far surpassing what it was before. He even felt a faint tremor of feedback force.

Van Buren’s brow twitched slightly, his scarlet eyes instantly locking onto the young man before him, whose skin was flushed red and whose aura was steadily rising.

The shallow gash on his opponent’s ribs and the torn wound on the web of his hand were particularly glaring under the seething Blood Qi, but the light in his eyes was as sharp as a blade, showing not a hint of retreat.

However, before the Paladin could figure out the source of this sudden change in Roland, the rusty Iron Sword had already torn through the thick air, carrying the momentum of one fighting back from the brink of death, and was slashing down at his head.