Inside the estate reception room, the atmosphere was completely different from usual.

Behind the mahogany desk, Baron Forsling's habitual calm was nowhere to be seen. In its place was Darco's tight frown.

From outside the window came the faint sounds of fighting at the estate gate, mixed with the rush of servants putting out fires. Each sound struck the young noble master's nerves like a hammer.

At last, Darco rose.

The flame on the candlestick threw his anxious silhouette across the oak floor, warping with every pacing step.

The third time he passed the fireplace, he stopped, grabbed his sword, and strode toward the door.

"Young Master Darco!"

The instant he pushed open the oak door, an aged but powerful voice stopped him.

Although old butler Charles's hair was already silver, his posture remained upright, like the century-old pine in the courtyard.

The old man hurried forward. His gaze fell on the sword hilt clutched in the young man's hand, and worry filled his wrinkled face.

"Captain John is already coordinating the battle. You truly do not need to..."

"Uncle Charles."

Darco interrupted the old butler. His knuckles had gone white from the force of his grip, and the family crest on the scabbard had pressed a deep mark into his palm.

"When warriors are bleeding at the front, I absolutely cannot hide in the reception room like a coward!"

The old butler's aged hand hung in midair. His lips trembled.

"But..."

Darco shook his head. His gaze passed over Charles, and his voice lowered with self-mockery.

"When Father was my age, he had already served with a sword in the Border Legion and personally slain countless invading foreign races..."

He lowered his head, clenched knuckles pale, his face shifting between candlelight and shadow.

When he raised his face again, the hesitation in his eyes had vanished, replaced by steel resolve.

"Perhaps I will never be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with Father, but at the very least... I cannot stain the honor of the Collins family!"

Before the words had fully faded, Darco strode out, his boot heels striking crisp notes against the marble floor.

The old butler's outstretched hand failed to stop him. He could only watch that straight back disappear at the end of the corridor.

...

...

The Giant's thunderous collapse did not end the brutal battle, but it reignited the guards' nearly extinguished fighting spirit.

They looked at Roland, drenched in blood.

At the figure standing atop the Giant's corpse.

Almost at the same time, blades began striking against one another, and the clang of metal mingled with cheers across the battlefield.

"The battle is far from over!"

Roland rose from his half-crouched posture, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"Everyone! Immediately carry out Captain John's previous battle deployment!"

"Yes, sir!"

The response came with startling uniformity.

These battle-hardened veterans did not care that the one issuing orders was merely a blacksmith apprentice.

On the battlefield, titles and ranks were decoration. Only strength carried true authority.

And Roland had already proven everything with his sword.

After seeing the guards rejoin the battle, Roland smelled the pungent stench of blood filling the air and flicked the blood from his sword.

Perhaps because all his attributes had improved comprehensively, the aftereffects of using Cleave had been greatly reduced, while its power had increased significantly.

Therefore, even though he had not activated the [Focus] trait just now, the strike that slew the Giant had already surpassed the peak state he had reached before taking up Warrior while [Focus] was active.

"Huff..."

Roland breathed out. The exhaustion from using Cleave had already faded by more than half.

He looked around, and his gaze landed beside the ruins of the collapsed wooden house.

John leaned there, covered in blood.

"Captain John!"

Roland stepped forward quickly, concern in his voice.

"Are you all right?"

"Cough, cough, cough... not dead yet..."

John coughed heavily several times, then used his iron sword for support and struggled upright.

Whether because Roland's sword strike had been too stunning, or because the veteran's vitality was tenacious, John, who had nearly fainted moments earlier, had already recovered by more than half.

Yet his eyes still held unconcealed shock.

"Roland, just now you..."

As a veteran who had once fought side by side with Forsling, he naturally recognized that move.

The Collins family's ancestral Combat Technique, [Cleave].

However, the same Combat Technique could differ like heaven and earth in different people's hands.

John clearly remembered that Forsling, nearly thirty years old back then, had gone through ten years of border slaughter and hundreds of life-and-death battles before tempering Cleave to the level Roland had just displayed.

But the young man before him?

He was not even eighteen.

When the two of them had previously joined forces against the mutant Kobold, Roland's strength had only been roughly equal to his.

Yet now, after only a few short months, this young man had already left him far behind.

It was unbelievable.

Roland noticed the shock in John's eyes, but the battle situation was urgent, and he had no intention of explaining further.

In truth, there was no need to explain.

Cleave had been personally taught by Baron Forsling. As for the rapid increase in strength?

That could simply be credited to talent and hard training.

The entire estate guard had witnessed him sweating on the training field day after day.

"Captain John, the battle isn't over."

Roland directly interrupted the veteran, who seemed about to speak.

"Yes... yes, right..."

John came back to himself and swept his gaze across the battlefield, his brow locked tight.

The figures waving farming tools made him hesitate, then correct himself.

"These... monsters are far too numerous. Even if they don't understand combat techniques, with brute strength and numbers alone..."

At this point, he turned toward the mansion at the center of the estate, teeth clenched.

"Roland, we'll cover you. Take Young Master Darco and break out! Lord Baron's party should not have gone far yet. They are currently traveling east along Dawnlight Territory's border. If you ride hard..."

"No, Captain John."

Roland strode to an intact water vat, washed the blood from his hands, and said in a deep voice, "When I was on the wall just now, I seemed to discover the commander of this monster army."

"Commander?"

John's expression sharpened.

"That's right."

Roland wiped his hands on the relatively clean inner lining of his clothes and nodded solemnly.

Those crazed rioters slaughtered indiscriminately like monsters, especially that Giant just now, which had already completely surpassed the category of human.

And the black-robed figure standing among the rioter horde yet remaining perfectly unharmed had to be the mastermind behind this massacre.

As long as that person was eliminated, this nightmare battle would end.

Thinking this, Roland pressed two fingers together and blew a crisp whistle.

"Fweet!"

Rapid hoofbeats came from far to near. A glossy black steed broke through the drifting dust and stopped beside Roland.

"Roland, this is too dangerous!"

Seeing the horse, John immediately understood Roland's plan and tried to dissuade him.

"No need to worry, Captain John."

Roland took a deep breath and waved a hand.

After this bloody battle, he had gained a clearer understanding of his own strength.

In an ordinary state, his physical strength had already reached the limit of mortals. He stood above veteran estate soldiers who had fought for many years, and was comparable to mutant monsters such as the Bloodscale Kobold and Winged Kobold.

When using Cleave, he could temporarily break through mortal restraints.

If he activated [Fighting Spirit] after sustained battle and under stacked attribute bonuses, he should be able to fully cross that mortal limit and step into the transcendent domain.

Although such strength was still far from the transcendent realm people said had mastered divine power, it was more than enough to deal with this motley crowd before him.

Although those rioters could contend with the guards, before Roland, they were only rank-and-file soldiers who would fall in one strike.

Even that Giant was only a matter of spending more effort.

Moreover, with his current traits and various extra buffs, even if he could not win, he could still retreat safely.

That was better than sitting here and waiting to die.

"Sir..."

Thinking this, Roland turned to a passing guard.

"Could I borrow your spear? In a moment..."

Before he could finish, the guard had already offered up the spear with both hands.

"Please take it, Lord Roland!"

After speaking, he drew his sword and hurried to the front line.

"Lord... Roland?"

Hearing this sudden form of address, Roland raised his brows. Then he weighed the spear in his hand and was about to activate [Gallop] and charge on horseback when cheering erupted from the wall.

He looked up and saw that the rioters, who had still been surging forward moments ago, had begun retreating rapidly. In only a short while, they disappeared into the vast night.

"We won!"

"We beat those monsters!"

"This was all thanks to Roland!"

"That's right, thanks to Roland!"

Seeing the rioters retreat, the surviving guards erupted in fervent cheers, striking their weapons one after another.

The ringing clash of metal echoed across the battlefield, and everyone's gaze turned in unison toward the young figure before the shattered gate.

Roland, seated on horseback.

"Roland!"

"Roland!"

"Roland!"

Amid the deafening cheers, Darco finally arrived on horseback.

The young noble master looked at the blood and devastation covering the ground, then at his familiar friend. For a moment, he was dazed.

"What... exactly happened?"

While Darco was still confused, deep in the distant forest, the black-robed figure Roland had noticed earlier stood in silence.

Silver-white moonlight outlined his thin silhouette. Those eyes glowing with dim golden light pierced through layer upon layer of tree shadows, swept over the shattered wall, and finally fixed on Roland in the center of the crowd.

Complex emotions moved through that gaze.

First, sharp scrutiny.

Then puzzled hesitation.

Finally, a desire that made one shudder.

Only after a moment did the black-robed figure withdraw the greed in his eyes. His gaze shifted toward the Giant's corpse, which had been cut into two halves by a sharp blade.

An almost inaudible sigh scattered with the wind.

"It failed... It seems the experimental results are not complete..."

"I wonder how the results are on that side..."

Along with that near-murmur, the black-robed figure turned around, and the pattern on his back appeared and disappeared beneath the moonlight.

It was a pair of eyes opened to their widest, embroidered with dark silver thread.

The outline of the eyelids had been deliberately drawn into unnatural arcs. The upper lashes were distinct like thorns, while the lower lashes transformed into dense lines that coiled downward.

In the depths of the pupils was a spiraling pattern that turned inward like the entrance to the Abyss, and from the spiral's end extended dark red blood threads as fine as hair.

When the fabric shifted, the entire pair of eyes seemed to contract slightly like living things, watching and peering at once.

With the enhancement of the keen-eye potion, Roland's vision had improved significantly, but even so, it was impossible for him to glimpse this scene from such a distance.

Moreover, at that moment, he was surrounded by estate guards who had swarmed over. The excited soldiers were all speaking at once, expressing their respect to him.

Only through his combined efforts with John did they finally calm the emotional guards.

Under John's orderly arrangements, some began clearing the mess across the ground, while others continued holding their guard posts.

Watching everything return to order, Roland finally released a long breath.

Only then did he notice Darco standing in a daze at the edge of the crowd.

"Darco!"

Seeing the young noble master, Roland immediately dismounted and strode up to him.

He looked his friend over with care and asked, "Are you all right?"

"I... what could happen to me?"

Only then did Darco move his gaze away from the Giant corpse split in two by the sharp blade.

But when he saw Roland covered in blood, his brows immediately drew tight, and his tone turned urgent.

"What about you, Roland? Are you all right?"

He circled Roland several times, repeatedly confirming that his friend was not injured before letting out a relieved breath.

The young noble master lightly covered the tip of his nose with his sleeve to block the heavy smell of blood while asking in confusion, "What exactly happened here?"

Roland briefly recounted the battle.

Darco's calm eyes turned surprised, then settled into an indescribably complicated expression as he stared deeply at the friend before him.

Baron Forsling's words echoed beside his ears.

"Do you really think a genius like Roland would be willing to serve as your army blacksmith?"

"Ha..."

A helpless, bitter smile appeared at the corner of Darco's mouth.

"Never mind army blacksmith. I'm afraid even Squire would wrong him..."

"Darco? Darco?"

"Ah... what?"

Looking at the noble young master's dazed expression, Roland frowned and had to repeat the question he had just asked.

"I asked whether your father gave any other instructions before leaving."

He pointed toward the corpses currently being carried away by the guards.

"These people's goal was clearly to completely destroy the estate."

"This..."

Darco pondered for a long time before speaking hesitantly.

"I already told you everything Father said before. But... he especially warned me to be wary of Baron Gavin of Dawnlight Territory..."

"Baron Gavin?"

Hearing this familiar name, Roland raised his brows.

"Does your father have a grudge with him?"

"Not exactly..."

Darco carefully recalled Baron Forsling's earnest instructions at the time, then said, "Father only said... Baron Gavin has been old and muddled lately, and that I should watch out for him doing foolish things..."

"Old and muddled?"

Roland did not know Baron Gavin's age, but hearing this now, he connected it to the rumors that had spread through Blackwater Territory. Suspicion rose in his heart.

"At such an age... and he was still impatient to restore the right of first night?"

Roland pushed aside the unrelated questions and said solemnly, "In any case, Darco, I think you had best immediately send someone to report the estate attack to Lord Baron Forsling. Also..."

Recalling the longbows, catapult, and battering ram the rioters had used, Roland's voice grew heavier.

"Since the other side was able to obtain these military devices to launch a surprise attack on the estate, that proves someone must be supporting them from behind. It is hard to guarantee they will not launch an attack against Lord Baron while he is outside."

"I understand."

Darco was not a fool. With Roland's reminder, he immediately understood.

He looked at the devastated estate forecourt. Although he had not personally experienced the battle, from the guards' reverent praise, he already knew who had been key to this victory.

"Thank you, Roland. If not for you..."

Darco's throat moved, his eyes full of sincere gratitude.

"This is already the second time you've saved me. I happen to have a suit of armor made by Mr. Hawk..."

"Enough."

Roland patted his shoulder heavily, the force making Darco grimace and knocking the rest of his thanks back into his stomach.

"Rewards can wait until later. Right now, hurry up and handle the serious business."

"Hiss... got it."

Darco rubbed his aching shoulder, hurriedly gave John a few instructions, and then turned to leave.

Roland did not rush to rest either. Instead, he found a clean piece of linen and carefully collected some of the pale-blue-glowing crystal-like objects from the Giant and the rioters. Then he strode toward the wooden house where Bronson lived.

Completely different from the brutal slaughter in the estate forecourt, perhaps because the wooden house was remote, this place still had the same quiet appearance as before the assault.

Roland cautiously looked around. Only after confirming there was nothing unusual did he step forward and push open the old wooden door.

"Bang!"

Before the creak of the door hinge had faded, a tall, thin figure swung a wooden stool at his head.

Roland caught the attack with ease. The wooden stool struck his palm with a faint, dull sound.

"It's me, Mr. Bronson."

Roland looked helplessly at the scholar before him, whose face was full of panic, and deliberately softened his voice.

"Oh... Heavenly Father above, it's you, Roland..."

Bronson's taut nerves relaxed at once, but when he saw the wet blood on Roland's clothes by the moonlight, his voice began to tremble again.

"You... on your body... what exactly happened outside?"

"Thugs attacked the estate, but they've already been dealt with."

Roland answered briefly while squeezing past Bronson's thin body. He carefully spread the wrapped pale blue crystals across the wooden table.

"There is something more important now, Mr. Bronson. Come look at what this is."

After Roland described in detail the origin of these crystals and the strange phenomenon of the rioters continuing to move after death, the pungent smell of blood made Bronson's face grow paler.

His professionalism as a researcher soon took over. He frowned, gaze locked onto the crystals glowing with faint blue light.

Just as he usually boasted, this well-read scholar quickly reached a conclusion.

"These are crystal clusters!"

Bronson's trembling voice carried both shock and confusion. His fingers wanted to touch the mysterious crystals, only to hesitate and stop in midair.

"Crystal clusters?"

"That's right. They are abnormal products formed after humanoid creatures and mana elements become highly combined..."

As Bronson spoke, he walked quickly to the bookshelf beside him. His fingers slid across the dusty spines, sending dust falling in his wake.

Before long, he pulled out a heavy ancient text and spread it open on the table. Then he rushed to the corner, rummaged through a badly worn leather pouch, found a sheet of parchment whose edges were nearly crumbling, and laid it carefully on another wooden table.

"Look. Before the Final Era, there was a place called Broken Stone Valley..."

Bronson's finger moved across the yellowed page, his voice carrying weight.

"Most likely due to the influence of its special terrain, the concentration of mana elements there was abnormally high..."

Roland followed his guidance and looked toward the ancient text titled Gufflin's Travels, while Bronson's explanation continued.

"The humans living there not only had an extremely high affinity with mana elements, they could even naturally cast cantrips."

"However, the good times did not last. As time passed, the local residents contracted a strange illness called Crystal Blight. Pale blue crystals would inexplicably grow beneath the patients' skin..."

He flipped through the pages, and more records appeared before Roland.

"And this disease was not unique to humans. Dwarves and Elves called it the Blue Plague, while Orcs regarded it as the Curse of Light..."

Bronson's fingertip stopped on an illustration.

The person in the drawing was covered in hideous crystal clusters. Beneath the candlelight, they seemed to glow with an eerie blue light, exactly like the rioters Roland had just encountered.

"But..."

After comparing the description in the book with the rioters he had encountered, Roland shook his head.

"Although these Crystal Blight patients suffered torment from the disease and even developed various mutations, eventually dying from it, their symptoms seem completely different from the rioters I encountered. They did not display bloodthirsty and brutal traits, and they certainly would not continue moving after death..."

"Correct. But the key lies in..."

Bronson nodded gravely, narrowed his eyes, and lowered his voice further.

"The mutations Crystal Blight triggers in humanoid creatures represent limitless possibilities in certain people's eyes..."

"Therefore, I suspect that certain people... just like you and me, have noticed the recovery of mana elements and are using it to conduct forbidden experiments..."

As he spoke, the scholar's thin finger tapped the damaged parchment scroll.

Roland followed the direction of his finger and looked over, his brows lifting.

What was recorded on the yellowed parchment was not the lighthearted and humorous observations of Gufflin's Travels, but one faded and mottled wanted notice after another.

[Wanted: High Councilor of Eternal Slumber Eye. Crime: Cultivating crystal clusters with living humans, creating undead puppets. Features: Black robe, silver eyes, voice hoarse as gravel scraping. Black Tower Council - top-secret pursuit]

[Bounty Notice: Fugitive alchemist Sethres. Crime: Spreading the Crystal Blight plague in Moon Mountain Town, twisting living beings and seeking immortality. Warning...]

[Kill Order: The Crystal Blight mastermind of the Lirang Empire, "The Watcher." Crime: Using living bodies to cultivate Eyes of the Abyss. Features...]

Looking at the shocking crimes recorded on the parchment scroll, Roland fell silent.