Translator: CinderTL
"Oh, damn it!"
Durga only reacted when cold metal fragments scattered across the ground.
He cursed gruffly, his hand instinctively touching the back of his neck. The chill of the blade's near miss still lingered there.
"Thank you, Rudolph."
After casting a grateful glance at Roland, the Gray Dwarf Leader maintained his composure despite the recent danger. He raised a hand, signaling his gathered clansmen to lower their weapons. Then, he raised both hands and declared in a clear voice, "Listen, cultists of Lolth! We did not come here to start a conflict, but rather to..."
Before he could finish, the attack resumed.
Several cold glints materialized, like the deadly strikes of venomous snakes. The blades sliced through the air with astonishing speed. Figures that had been dozens of steps away were now closing in.
Such speed... Roland observed the approaching figures, his heart sinking.
These drow were undoubtedly transcendent professionals. Though they hadn't revealed their full strength, their ability to melt into shadows and their deadly assassination techniques suggested they were either pure assassins or had at least stepped onto a similar transcendent path.
Compared to any assassins Roland had encountered before, these drow elves were faster, their strikes more ruthless and precise, and their ability to conceal their presence was nothing short of masterful.
Earlier, even with the Abyssal Touch to sense their movements, he would have been utterly unable to counter such terrifying speed.
But now...
Facing several dark blades that tore through the air, Roland remained motionless, merely shifting his body slightly to let the first dagger graze past his chest.
The instant the drow elf tried to change tactics, Roland's right hand shot out like lightning, his fingers striking the opponent's weapon-wielding wrist with perfect precision.
Clang!
With a light sound, the poisoned dagger flew from the drow elf's grasp.
Roland twisted his wrist, catching the falling dagger and using its flat side to strike the second assassin approaching from the right.
The dagger's flat side collided with the second assassin's blade, producing a crisp clang.
The impact sent the assassin staggering backward, his weapon flying from his hand.
Just then, a third assassin emerged silently from the shadows behind him, his double-bladed daggers aimed at Roland's back and knee.
Without turning his head, Roland spread his left hand, fingers slightly parted, and a condensed crimson Battle Qi flowed into his palm, forming a flexible barrier.
The double-edged blades pierced the Battle Qi, sinking into it like a thick mud bog, unable to advance further.
With a swift backhand swing of the short blade in his right hand, Roland precisely struck the third assassin's shoulder.
The assassin grunted, his entire arm instantly going numb and powerless. The dagger clattered to the ground.
The entire process took no more than three heartbeats.
As for the remaining attackers who swarmed in, Roland's movements remained composed.
He dodged sideways, deflected the incoming weapons with clever force, and occasionally tapped the attackers' joints with the flat of his blade.
Each action was perfectly timed, resolving the crisis without killing a single life.
When the final Drow elf was struck in the chest by the face of the stolen dagger, grunting and staggering back several steps, the crimson Battle Qi swirling around Roland gradually subsided.
"By the gods."
Durga rubbed his eyes vigorously, his face filled with bewilderment.
In his eyes, he had only seen several dark figures lunge from the shadows of the ship's cabin, like venomous snakes poised to strike.
He instinctively reached for his battle axe, his muscles tensing.
In the next instant, only a blurred, flowing crimson afterimage remained in his vision.
It was too fast for his eyes to track.
He heard the crisp clash of metal and saw the assassins stumble backward one after another, their weapons flying from their grasp, yet he couldn't comprehend how it had happened.
It was like watching a play sped up dozens of timesโhe saw only the beginning and the end, completely missing the crucial process.
When the dust settled, Roland stood with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he had never moved.
All the attackers were incapacitated, either clutching their wrists or supporting their shoulders, frozen in place.
Durga blinked in disbelief, his gaze darting between Roland and the defeated drow, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Compared to the Rudolph he remembered, this old friend, now calling himself "Roland," clearly still had a significant gap in absolute strength.
Yet the exquisitely refined combat techniques he had just witnessedโthe effortless way he had resolved crises within inches and dismantled the encirclement with minimal costโwere qualities Durga had never seen in the Rudolph of his memory.
Rudolph in my memories...
Durga's thoughts drifted.
Most of those memories were simple and direct.
He would either swing his sword with unadorned simplicity or end battles instantly with overwhelming force. There were never any exceptions.
In Rudolph's own words, it was...
"One strength to overcome ten skills?"
Durga whispered the phrase unconsciously, then shook his head violently, pulling his drifting thoughts back to reality.
Seeing his fellow tribesmen similarly stunned, he cleared his throat heavily and turned to the shaken Drow elves, raising his voice.
"Listen! We come here with no ill intent."
The Gray Dwarf Leader surveyed the still-wary crimson eyes.
"We only wish to ask one question: what is the precise location of the surface elves' current dwelling?"
Durga's words echoed in the silent ship's hold.
After a moment, the slender figure who had first attacked slowly straightened.
The drow woman raised her hand in a gesture. Though the others remained wary, they obediently retreated half a step, gathering behind her.
"Why should we trust a bunch of exiled dwarves?" Her voice was cold and raspy, her crimson eyes fixed on Durga.
"It's simple..."
A voice broke the tension.
Roland, having just snapped out of the exquisite sensation of perfect body control, stepped forward with a composed smile. With a flick of his wrist, he casually spun a dagger between his fingers before tossing it in a slow, clear trajectory toward the drow woman. It was easy for her to catch.
"You've already witnessed my strength firsthand," Roland said, calmly watching her catch the dagger. "If I had malicious intent, you'd all be corpses by now. The fact that you're still standing here, breathing, is the best proof of our sincerity."
The drow warrior's words, backed by absolute power, instantly silenced the whispers and unrest that had filled the ship's cabin after the brief confrontation.
Humiliation and anger flashed across the drow elves' faces, and several young warriors instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons.
"Enough," the slender figure leading the group said, raising a hand to quell the agitation behind her. She took a deep breath, as if forcefully suppressing the pride inherent to her kind. When she spoke again, her voice remained cold, but now carried a cautious, measured tone.
"You speak the truth, human powerhouse." She stepped forward, bowing with a peculiar, rhythmic elegance. "Regarding the movements of those... surface elves, my knowledge is indeed limited. If you insist on investigating, perhaps only Elder Duerden can provide a definitive answer."
"If you are willing to enter our camp, I can guide you."
"Duerden?" The name startled Durgar, his bell-like eyes widening in surprise. He instinctively glanced at Roland beside him.
(End of the Chapter)
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