Translator: CinderTL
Rudolph.
The name was both familiar and unfamiliar to Roland.
He had heard it in the ramblings of the giant dragon.
Later, he had tried to uncover the story behind this name.
Yet, after scouring all the texts Bronson carried, he could find no further records of this individual.
The only information related to Rudolph was his legendary stand against the demon invasion at the Abyssal Eye.
Beyond that, there was a complete void.
Then...
Why did Van Buren before him believe he was Rudolph's avatar?
Could it be merely due to the dragon bloodline within him that hadn't yet fully merged?
These thoughts flashed through Roland's mind like lightning.
Feeling the immense power surging through the sword blade, he skillfully twisted his wrist, slightly angling the blade to deflect the force. He stomped his foot on the scorched earth, Borrowing the Force to retreat rapidly.
A glance at the desolate battlefield in his peripheral vision sent a chill through his heart.
Though the physical pain and fatigue had vanished, he was absolutely certain that he had fought his way to the top of the High Tower in a bloody, desperate struggle.
But...
The solid ground beneath his feet, the heavy, metallic air thick with the scent of rust and blood—a scent that had settled over countless centuries—all testified to the undeniable reality of his surroundings.
This is no illusion or mental attack. If it were, the Steel Will would have reacted without hesitation... So, what kind of ability is this?
Recalling the instantaneous shift in scenery and Van Buren's words:
Territory of Will, Law Manifestation?
Roland's brow furrowed.
Just as his mind wandered, Van Buren's attack struck like a shadow!
Clang!
Sparks flew!
In that split second of blocking, Roland realized his hand gripped not his familiar Mithril Longsword, but an ordinary iron sword, its edge even showing traces of rust.
The silver shield bound to his left arm had vanished without a trace, as had the section of dragonbone that had served as his bracer.
Yet he had no time to ponder these mysteries.
Damn it!
Feeling a sharp ache in his palm and wrist, Roland cursed inwardly.
He could clearly sense that despite his state having fully recovered to its peak, both his strength and agility were being suppressed to varying degrees, as if bound by an invisible burden.
He took a deep breath, attempting to adjust, but the fatal attack descended once more.
In those crimson eyes locked onto him, murderous intent burned, cold enough to freeze the marrow.
Roland didn't doubt it for a moment.
If he didn't give his all, the holy knight who had seemed so elegant and courteous just moments before would undoubtedly strike down his head without hesitation.
With this thought, he violently purged all distracting thoughts, focusing his entire being on the life-or-death battle before him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The clash of steel rained down like a storm.
In mere seconds, the two had exchanged over a dozen rounds.
Van Buren's sword strikes were as heavy as mountains, yet as swift as ghosts.
Roland felt like a child trying to block a tsunami. With each clash of blades, the overwhelming force sent tremors through his arms, his bones groaning in agony.
One slightly delayed evasion, and the icy edge of the sword grazed his left shoulder.
Though the sword blade hadn't struck him directly, the terrifying force behind it slammed into his chest, making his vision black out, nearly suffocating him, and leaving a coppery, metallic taste in his throat.
In the face of such overwhelming strength, even the most refined combat techniques seemed like useless posturing.
Roland could only rely on his extraordinary combat instincts and the blazing Battle Qi he forcibly channeled through the Nameless Breathing Technique. Under the opponent's relentless, storm-like offensive, he desperately dodged and blocked, staggering backward step by step.
The cracked, scorched earth beneath his feet cratered with each heavy footstep.
"Incredible strength... astonishing speed..."
After being knocked back once more, nearly losing his grip on the rusted iron sword, a glint flashed in Roland's eyes as he forcibly suppressed the churning, bile-inducing blood in his chest.
"In terms of physical prowess alone, he's on par with ordinary transcendents like Reggie. As for combat skill... it's reached an flawless level. Yet beyond that..."
He gritted his teeth and parried a diagonal slash, sparks flying.
"He seems to possess no other special abilities."
The disappearance of the dragonbone meant Roland could no longer use tricks, but this did not diminish his fundamental combat power.
Or rather, in the face of the opponent's pure and overwhelming strength, those meager tricks would have been utterly useless anyway.
"Since you wish to test me..."
Feeling the dull ache in his left shoulder and the burning, tearing sensation in the web of his right hand, Roland roared inwardly.
"Then so be it!"
With a thought, his [Focus] trait activated!
The world suddenly slowed.
Van Buren's razor-sharp movements became crystal clear in his eyes.
Yet the acceleration of his mind couldn't fully compensate for his body's lag; his reactions still couldn't keep pace with the storm-like speed of the attack.
He could barely track the trajectory of the incoming blade, but his body felt as heavy as lead.
Though he managed to twist sideways to avoid the fatal blow, the icy edge still sliced a shallow gash across his ribs.
"Not enough!"
The new pain stimulated his nerves. As Roland retreated under the relentless onslaught, his blood seemed to ignite, boiling with fury.
[Battle Frenzy]—Activated!
Boom!
The surging blood resonated with the scorching Battle Qi generated by the Nameless Breathing Technique.
His skin began to glow with an abnormal crimson hue, his muscles bulging as strength surged through his veins like a roaring beast.
This surge of power temporarily suppressed the soreness in his muscles and the torment of his injuries, allowing him to block with less clumsiness and barely maintain his footing as he retreated.
"Not enough!"
Despite the improvement, Van Buren's attacks remained so heavy that his arms trembled.
Facing the oppressive pressure that seemed capable of cleaving space itself, Roland roared in defiance.
At the deepest core of his consciousness, a cold, formidable energy suddenly awakened.
[Mind Self-Shaping]!
Psionic energy flowed like invisible liquid metal, instantly enveloping his entire body before solidifying into an intangible, resilient armor. This armor fused seamlessly with his flesh and spirit, granting him an unprecedented sense of cohesion and control.
The icy power seemed to freeze the pain in his wounds, forcibly steadying his trembling arm and sharpening his focus to a critical point, bringing his control over his body to its absolute limit.
Clang!
Another unadorned, brutal collision!
Sparks erupted violently between the rust-eaten iron sword and the gleaming silver longsword.
"Hmm?"
Van Buren felt the force on his blade suddenly surge, far exceeding anything before, even carrying a hint of recoil.
His brow furrowed slightly, and his crimson eyes instantly locked onto the youth before him, whose skin was flushed red and whose aura was steadily climbing.
The shallow bloodstain on the youth's ribs and the split wound on his hand were glaringly conspicuous beneath the boiling blood energy, yet the light in his eyes was as sharp as a blade, showing no trace of hesitation.
But before the holy knight could fully comprehend the sudden transformation in Roland's power...
The rust-eaten iron sword tore through the thick air, carrying a desperate, life-or-death momentum, and slashed down at him.
(End of the Chapter)
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