Translator: CinderTL
With Galvis's impending departure already established, Roland showed little emotional reaction to Avril's announcement.
Given her taciturn demeanor, he refrained from asking questions, simply relaying Monen's suggestion to the group:
Travel to the ancient Aetheron Continent.
"Aetheron?" Avril's eyes flickered with interest. "I've read about it in old travelogues. They say it's a vast and mysterious land, but I've never had the chance to visit. I imagine it must be full of wonders."
"His Majesty Monen's statement isn't entirely accurate," Galvis interjected, immediately adopting his scholarly tone, habitually supplementing and correcting. "This land beneath our feet—at least the territory of the Stone Kingdom, where the dwarves have lived for generations—shares historical roots as ancient as Aetheron itself. It's not merely a 'newborn land' born from the laws' distortion."
He paused, his face taking on the peculiar expression of a bard about to reveal a hidden truth.
"You must understand that the Dwarf Kingdom has been inextricably linked to this land since ancient times—even, one might say, that they hold the key to a forgotten era..."
Avril, who seemed familiar with this history, immediately joined the discussion, occasionally adding details or challenging some of Galvis's points.
Whenever ancient texts and legends were mentioned, Galvis seemed to instantly forget his fear of Avril and began arguing his points vehemently.
The two traded arguments back and forth, locked in a heated debate over the secrets of the Dwarf Kingdom, creating quite a lively scene.
Watching the pair argue endlessly, Roland shook his head in exasperation.
Meanwhile, Theresa, who had been standing quietly beside them, couldn't hide the sorrow that clouded her beautiful silver eyes.
Having survived a series of life-and-death trials, the Silver-Haired Woman was more acutely aware of her own limitations than anyone else.
During the previous crises, if not for Roland's repeated interventions, she would not only have been unable to provide effective assistance but might even have become a burden on the group.
Now, Roland was about to journey to the legendary Aetheron Continent, a land said to be both more dangerous and full of opportunities and challenges.
With her current strength, following him there would likely make her more of a burden than an asset. In fact...
The thought coiled around her heart like a cold vine.
Theresa gently bit her lip, as if steeling herself for a decision. She moved silently to Roland's side, her footsteps barely audible.
Taking a soft breath, she lowered her silver eyes and spoke in a quiet but unwavering voice, "Mr. Roland, my strength... is still far from sufficient. If I were to accompany you to Aetheron like this, I fear I would only become a hindrance."
Hearing this, Roland immediately softened his tone, trying to reassure her.
"Don't say that, Theresa. We're a team. We've come this far by supporting each other..."
But Theresa's expression remained resolute. She shook her head firmly, interrupting him.
"No, Mr. Roland. I've made up my mind. I plan to embark on a solo journey to hone my skills and seek ways to enhance my strength."
Seeing that Roland still seemed inclined to persuade her, Theresa raised her eyes, her gaze lingering on him with a profound melancholy, and softly revealed the deeper reason behind her decision.
"I have felt... the call of Oghma, God of Truth, Mr. Roland. I am not blessed with innate talent like you."
"For me, to keep pace with you, perhaps... the only path is to heed the divine decree and seek guidance from the God."
Hearing these words, Roland opened his mouth to speak, but ultimately swallowed back all his arguments.
He knew this was Theresa's carefully considered decision, and he had no right, nor the means, to stop her.
In that moment, Galvis, Avril, and now Theresa—three companions who had shared life-and-death struggles with him—were all about to depart. An indescribable sense of loss quietly welled up in Roland's heart.
Avril, standing nearby, keenly noticed the fleeting shadow of melancholy in his eyes.
She stepped forward and clapped Roland firmly on the shoulder, attempting to dispel the somber atmosphere with a cheerful tone.
"Don't look so down, Roland! I'm just heading back to Eversong Forest to take care of some things. I'll be back to find you soon! Adventuring with you is way more fun than staying in the forest!"
As she spoke, she turned to Theresa beside her and winked.
"Theresa feels the same way, right? Once she believes she's strong enough, she'll definitely come back to find you for more adventures, won't she?"
Theresa nodded vigorously, her silver hair swaying with the motion, a spark of light rekindling in her eyes.
Seeing this, Roland shook his head and chuckled softly.
No feast lasts forever, and each person must walk their own path.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the lingering melancholy. His expression returned to its usual composure as he nodded to his companions.
"I understand."
With his mind settled, he began discussing the specific details of their future reunion point and communication methods.
The group were all decisive individuals. Within moments, they had finalized all arrangements and agreed to depart at dawn the next day.
That night, as Roland lay on his bed in the temporary camp, preparing to sleep, the tent flap was gently lifted.
Just as Monen had predicted, Princess Gloria arrived alone, once again solemnly offering him a position in her service—and... a proposal of marriage.
Without hesitation, Roland politely but firmly declined.
A deeper sense of disappointment and shock flickered in Gloria's eyes, even more pronounced than before.
The emotion swelled within her, festering until finally...
"Lord Roland, you're far too arrogant!"
The Imperial Princess gasped slightly, her delicate shoulders trembling with agitation, a faint blush coloring her exquisite face.
"Please don't let your innate talent and abilities... make you so condescending. I... I must remind you..."
Gloria took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain the dignified composure befitting her royal status, though a faint tremor still lingered in her voice.
"The proposal for a marriage alliance... was purely a matter of state, a political union to stabilize the kingdom. It involved no... no personal feelings whatsoever."
Before the words had fully left her lips, she abruptly turned and strode out of the tent, almost as if fleeing.
The crisp night wind outside struck her face, bringing a cool relief to her flushed cheeks.
The cold breeze seemed to clear her muddled thoughts.
Recalling her earlier outburst, Gloria felt the heat on her face intensify.
What on earth was I saying...?
She murmured to herself, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her skirt.
Her earlier outburst had sounded like the petulant tantrum of a rejected girl, utterly unbecoming of an Imperial Princess's dignity and composure.
Inside the tent, Roland watched the curtain sway slightly, recalling the Imperial Princess's attitude—more a fit of pique than a declaration. He shook his head in resignation.
He had naturally sensed the emotion behind her words and hadn't taken them seriously, let alone felt offended.
After all, he was about to embark on a long voyage to the Aetheron Continent, and their paths would likely never cross again.
With this thought, his heart settled into a calm stillness. He closed his eyes and soon drifted into sleep.
The next morning, as dawn's first light touched the horizon, Roland awoke precisely on time.
Just as he finished packing his meager belongings, the tent flap was thrown open, and Monen's towering figure strode in, pressing a thick stack of manuscripts into his hands.
"Here, boy," the Old King's voice carried a hint of weariness, though his tone remained hearty.
"I borrowed paper and ink from your friend last night. I've written down everything I know about condensing the source core and how to activate it."
Roland accepted the stack of papers, still fragrant with fresh ink, and glanced up. Monen's eyes were bloodshot and weary.
Looking down at the manuscript, the ink still damp in places, Roland immediately understood.
The Old King must have stayed up all night, pouring his precious experience onto the page.
Roland knew the true value of this manual better than anyone.
Among all the knights he had encountered, aside from Monen himself, even a powerhouse like Graham had failed to successfully condense a source core.
This act of sharing everything stirred a warm current in Roland's heart. He swallowed, preparing to express his sincere gratitude.
"Enough," Monen interrupted, as if reading his thoughts. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he cut off Roland's words as if they were trivial. "You saved my kingdom!"
"If Golden Grain City hadn't been annihilated in the temporal vortex, taking my treasure vault with it, I would never have offered such a meager gift to repay such a profound debt."
He laughed heartily, clapped Roland on the shoulder, and steered him toward the tent flap.
"So, stop making that face. Let's go. Everyone's ready. We can't let our departing hero slip away quietly."
The moment the tent flap was lifted, a cool morning breeze rushed in, followed by a wave of burning gazes.
In the camp's central clearing, a dense crowd had gathered, seemingly out of nowhere.
From soldiers in battered armor to wounded men wrapped in bloodstained bandages, everyone stood in silent anticipation.
As Roland's figure emerged, countless eyes instantly locked onto him.
There were no grand ceremonies, no fluttering banners—everything after the battle felt hastily arranged and makeshift.
Yet every gaze fixed on Roland burned with undisguised fervor.
It was the joy of surviving a near-disaster, the awe of a powerful leader, and, above all, a profound, heartfelt gratitude.
Someone raised their sword first.
Clang!
The clear ring of a longsword being drawn pierced the silence.
Then a second, a third...
Hundreds, then thousands of weapons were raised high, their polished blades reflecting the dazzling light of the rising sun.
"Roland!"
"Hero Roland!"
At first, scattered shouts erupted, but they quickly coalesced into a unified roar that shook the morning air.
The soldiers pounded their breastplates with their fists, while wounded warriors struggled to lift their heads from their stretchers, their eyes gleaming with near-worship.
They vividly remembered the moment when this young man had stepped forward in their darkest hour, his bloodied right arm unleashing a dragon breath that tore through the darkness and utterly crushed the invincible abyssal demon.
Monen stood beside Roland, his broad hand still resting on the young man's shoulder. As he gazed at the surging crowd, his eyes filled with pride and emotion.
He leaned in close, speaking in a voice only Roland could hear amidst the deafening cheers.
"Look, lad," he murmured, "this is the respect you've earned."
Roland stood at the center of this roaring tide of steel and shouts, feeling the earth tremble beneath his feet as he met the flushed, exhilarated faces of the crowd.
In that moment, he truly understood what it meant to be the center of attention.
Amidst this simple yet heartfelt farewell ceremony, he was not merely a demon-slaying hero, but a symbol of hope in the hearts of these warriors.
"That Roland..."
Sean watched the figure bathed in countless gazes from the seething crowd, raising his thick arm to wipe at his slightly reddened eyes with awkward tenderness.
"I knew it... you were never destined for mediocrity," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Before he could finish speaking, an arm draped affectionately over his shoulder.
"Who was calling me a sissy earlier?" Darco asked with a mischievous grin, deliberately furrowing his brow. "Look at you now, tsk tsk..."
"I like it! What's it to you?" Sean retorted gruffly, though he didn't push away the noble youth's arm.
Darco patted Sean's shoulder armor understandingly, his gaze also drifting toward Roland in the distance, a gentle smile curving his lips.
"We can't fall too far behind, you know. We can't let Roland leave us in the dust."
He paused, lowering his voice slightly. "Speaking of which, have you finished all the tasks Princess Gloria assigned you?"
"I don't need you to remind me, you jerk!" Sean snapped, huffing irritably.
"Watch your tone, Sean," Darco straightened his posture, feigning seriousness. "I am your superior now."
As the two bantered playfully, in a sparsely populated corner nearby, Maid Mel watched Princess Gloria, who stood beside her. The Imperial Princess looked weary but was forcing herself to maintain a composed demeanor. Mel sighed softly.
"Your Highness, if I recall correctly, you mentioned last night that you... wouldn't be attending this morning's farewell ceremony?"
Gloria's gaze flickered briefly toward the figure at the center of the distant crowd before she straightened her posture and replied in her usual icy tone.
"As the Imperial Princess of the Golden Valley Kingdom, your absence from such an occasion would be a slight to the royal family's dignity."
Gloria slightly tilted her chin, attempting to maintain her innate air of haughtiness, but she couldn't escape Mel's keen gaze.
Seeing this, Mel fell silent, but her eyes couldn't help but linger on the slightly worn bandage wrapped around Gloria's arm.
"Your Highness, this wound... shouldn't it have healed by now?"
As she spoke, Mel naturally reached out to unwrap the bandage and examine it.
"No need!"
Gloria instinctively recoiled, hiding her arm behind her back, a hint of panic in her voice.
"It... it hasn't completely healed yet."
Observing Gloria's clumsy attempt to conceal the truth, Mel sighed softly.
The maid clearly remembered that the wound had been inflicted half a year ago during a fierce battle in the dense forest against assassins sent by Arno.
Given the Imperial Princess's physical constitution and the physician's meticulous care, such a superficial injury should have healed long ago.
The reason the bandage remained wrapped around her arm might be...
Mel's gaze drifted toward the black-haired youth surrounded by soldiers in the distance, a knowing yet helpless smile playing on her lips.
Perhaps it was simply because this seemingly ordinary strip of cloth had been personally wrapped around her arm by that youth in the dark depths of the forest.
(End of the Chapter)
---------------------------
📖 You are reading [234] Chapters behind.
🔥 Read up to Chapter [604] now, only on 𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝕞.
📚 Read upto [13,000+] Chapters on Site with [10,400+] Free Chapters!
🚫 Also get FREE lifetime ad-free and join the giveaway by joining our Discord!
---------------------------