Translator: CinderTL
As the first hint of dawn painted the horizon, Hearthstone Castle gradually stirred to life. Distant clangs of metal and faint murmurs of conversation drifted through the air.
Roland slowly opened his eyes, exhaling a long, steady breath.
A wisp of condensed white mist emerged from his lips, swirling briefly in the crisp air before slowly dissipating.
"I didn't expect that after condensing the primal core, even the Nameless Breathing Technique would undergo a new transformation..."
With a thought, he summoned the Job Panel.
The Nameless Breathing Technique, which had reached max level the previous day, now displayed a progress bar once more.
"It seems my previous 'max level' was merely the limit of the breathing technique's ability to tap into its own potential," Roland mused.
"Now that my source of power has shifted to the external world, the technique's level cap has also been unlocked."
Having clarified the matter, he stretched his body, carefully savoring the state of transformation.
The condensation of the primal core had not only elevated his energy level but also significantly refined his physical body.
His strength and agility had undergone a qualitative leap, and with the 20 mental attribute bonus from his Psion class...
In game terms, he was now a "balanced build," with no weak points. In terms of actual capability, he could be considered a "minor Monen."
"If Galvis's information is accurate, my current physical condition alone should be sufficient to handle myself with ease in the elf territory."
"Not to mention the support from his various traits and class bonuses."
With these thoughts, Roland felt a surge of confidence.
Taking a deep breath to suppress his slight arrogance, he gently nudged the sleeping pixie beside his pillow.
Tracy rubbed her drowsy eyes, flapped her wings vaguely, and then obediently burrowed into the pocket of his shirt.
He reached for the snoring Squirrel Joe, his fingers pausing as they touched the creature's increasingly rounded belly.
Whether it was an illusion or not, the fluffy tail of this little guy seemed longer than he remembered.
Pushing aside his doubts, he carefully tucked Joe into his waist pouch and stepped outside.
The pre-dawn light revealed Hearthstone Castle already bustling with activity.
The grey dwarves were busy packing various forging tools, ore samples, and provisions into crates, their rough shouts and the clang of metal mingling into a unique morning chorus.
Perhaps because they were about to embark on a long journey aboard the shell ship, everyone's face carried a mixture of anticipation for the future and the haste of departure. Even the underlying layer of resentment in their eyes had faded considerably.
Roland navigated through the bustling crowd toward the colossal structure docked at the center of the plaza.
At the edge of the shell ship's shadow, he encountered Bronson, who was gazing up at the vessel's hull.
"Good morning, Mr. Bronson. What are you doing here?"
Noticing Bronson's weary appearance, Roland met his bright, focused gaze.
"Didn't sleep at all last night?"
"Good morning, Roland!"
Bronson snapped back to attention, excitedly grabbing Roland's arm before pointing at the ship behind him.
"This is simply a marvel of engineering and biomechanics! Look at how the neural bundles are integrated with the carapace, and the distribution of the energy circuits..."
"I dare say this creation transcends multiple levels of civilization! The grey dwarves actually managed to harness such a..."
He gestured wildly, completely absorbed in the fervor of his academic discovery.
Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Rudolph!"
Roland immediately recognized Durga's voice.
But this call carried an uncharacteristic mix of surprise and wonder.
Before he could turn around or respond, the Gray Dwarf Leader's heavy palm landed squarely on his shoulder.
"Have you recovered your memories?"
Durga's voice was unusually urgent, his copper-bell eyes fixed intently on Roland.
Seeing Roland shake his head in denial, Durga released his grip and sheepishly rubbed his thick fingers together.
"My apologies, old friend. It's just that from a distance, the way you were standing there, gazing into the distance..."
He gestured, searching for the right words.
"The aura you exude is exactly like Rudolph's from back then."
As the gray dwarf spoke, his eyes showed a mixture of nostalgia and confusion.
In his eyes, Roland no longer possessed the aura of a traveler solely driven by the pursuit of strength, but now carried the true spirit of an pioneer.
This created a peculiar overlap between the man before him and the figure etched in Durga's memory.
"Let's not dwell on that," Durga's gruff voice interrupted the delicate atmosphere.
"Ready, old friend?"
Roland nodded decisively.
The Gray Dwarf Leader turned to face his gathered tribesmen and let out a shout that echoed across the plaza.
"Board the ship!"
As the words fell, hundreds of gray dwarves began to march in orderly lines toward the shell ship.
Before this mountain-like living vessel, the entire tribal clan seemed dwarfed, like a swarm of ants about to be swallowed by the giant beast's maw.
Durga cast one final glance around, ensuring no one was left behind. He took a deep breath and pressed his right hand, clad in an Iron Gauntlet, against the ship's surface.
As his deep, ancient incantation rang out, the neural pathways on the shell ship's surface began to glow with an eerie blue light, emitting a low hum.
"Depart!"
With this solemn declaration, just as before, a rift suddenly opened before the shell ship.
In the next moment, the vessel slid into the Sea of Void, a realm shimmering with silver light.
Though it wasn't his first time, the peculiar sensation of weightlessness and blurred time still made Roland feel slightly uneasy.
While parrying Bronson's rapid-fire questions, Roland cast his gaze out the viewport at the eternally silent vista.
Just then, he frowned slightly.
He could clearly sense the primal core within him drawing energy from the outside.
But this energy was entirely different from what he had absorbed at Hearthstone Castle.
It was purer, more substantial, like raw, undiluted primordial force.
"It seems this primal core draws upon an unknown energy that, like the magic element, varies in concentration across different regions..."
Realizing this, a thought sparked in his mind.
"Doesn't that mean if I could stay in a region with extremely high concentration for a long time, my power would increase at a greatly accelerated rate?"
This discovery sent a thrill through him.
However, a lingering sense of strangeness quickly suppressed Roland's excitement.
Perhaps it was due to the overwhelming energy density of the Astral Plane.
Under the primal core's efficient absorption, he even felt a peculiar sense of "fullness."
As this sensation grew stronger, a faint dizziness washed over him.
It was exactly the same feeling he'd experienced when traveling to Howling Gorge and passing the edge of the Mistland.
Realizing this, Roland immediately calmed his mind, consciously slowing the operation of his primal core. The uncomfortable dizziness gradually subsided.
Just as he adjusted the energy circulation within his body, another rift tore open in the silver void ahead of the shell ship, driven by an invisible force.
With the familiar sensation of slight weightlessness, the vessel glided smoothly out of the Astral Plane and back into the Material Plane.
"We've arrived," Durga's voice came from the control center.
"So soon?" Roland asked, surprised.
"In the Astral Plane, distance is determined by perception and coordinates, not steps," Durga explained, his thick fingers still pressed against the pulsating nerve cluster. "As long as the anchor is clear and the will is focused, the destination is at the end of the journey."
Nodding slightly, Roland looked out the window.
The shell ship now floated beneath a deep, starless night sky.
Countless plants, emitting faint glows of deep blue, sickly green, or pale purple, stretched like a living carpet to the horizon, forming the sole light source in this region.
Their twisted and bizarre forms resembled giant puffball mushrooms or gaunt trees draped with luminous moss.
The humid air was thick with the mixed aroma of decaying organic matter and a strange, faintly sweet fragrance.
Deep within this eerie jungle of light, the dark silhouettes of structures could vaguely be discerned.
Their sharp outlines and intricate designs seemed to merge with the darkness, their web-like spires and arched corridors only occasionally outlined by reflected light.
"Our grey dwarves have been dealing with these dark-skinned spider worshippers for longer than many mountain ranges have existed," Durga grunted as he maneuvered the shell ship to a slow landing between two massive glowing fungi.
"Even before we were enslaved by the mind flayers, my ancestors fought them over mineral veins in the deeper ley lines. So I know some of their abandoned..."
His words cut off abruptly.
A barely audible whoosh of air arrived almost simultaneously with the attack.
It wasn't an arrow, but a dark, cold gleam that nearly merged with the shadows.
A slender, poison-coated dagger flew with deadly precision toward Durga's unprotected throat.
It appeared so abruptly, as if it had coalesced from the shadows themselves, its speed far surpassing visual perception.
Just as the poisoned blade was about to pierce Durga's throat,
a hand moved with impossible speed, as if it had been waiting there all along.
Roland casually raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers extending forward with seemingly effortless grace.
Clink!
A crisp, crystal-shattering sound rang out.
The moment the dagger touched his fingertips, it shattered as if struck by an irresistible force.
From the tip downward, it crumbled into dozens of tiny metal fragments that scattered in all directions.
The entire process was as effortless as brushing dust from one's shoulder.
Roland didn't even shift his stance, his gaze remaining calm.
Several dagger fragments, glinting with cold light, spun through the air toward the depths of the cabin.
On one of the most polished fragments, a pair of eyes suddenly contracted, filled with disbelief and horror.
Those were the eyes of the attacker.
As the dagger fragments clattered to the floor, a slender figure was forced out of the shadows.
With the exposure of the first attacker, the surrounding shadows seemed to come alive.
One by one, silhouettes emerged silently from the cabin's darkness.
They possessed the exquisite beauty of elves, but their skin was as pale as snow, and their hair was predominantly silver-white.
Roland slowly lowered his fingers, his gaze calmly sweeping over the group of uninvited guests.
Without a doubt, these hunters lurking in the shadows were that feared branch of the elven lineage:
The drow.
(End of the Chapter)
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