Translator: CinderTL
"Over a thousand years..."
With Durga's earlier explanation as context, Roland's confusion largely vanished when the voice, heavy with the weight of ages, spoke again.
It seems another being has mistaken me for Rudolph.
The thought of that figure—still an enigma, whether it was his past self or the ancestor of this body—made Roland's head ache.
He turned to Durga, who stood beside him, muscles tense and ready for battle, and lowered his voice.
"Durga, this... behemoth claims to know me. Do you have any clues about it?"
Since both Aboleths and Grey Dwarves inhabited the depths of the ley line, and Durga's earlier reaction clearly wasn't his first encounter with such an ancient creature, Roland speculated that the knowledgeable leader might offer some insight.
However, Durga's response was unexpected.
The Grey Dwarf Leader remained in his defensive stance, his gaze locked on the giant eye in the distance as he asked back in confusion, "It knows you? Rudolph... you just spoke with it?"
Roland had just nodded and was about to speak when the ancient voice boomed directly in his mind again, tinged with anger at the lack of response and...
...an unmistakable tremor of fear.
"Answer me, human..."
Flames of fury ignited within the colossal eye, yet its massive form recoiled slightly, as if instinctively trying to create distance.
"My kin and I honored our pact with you, never setting foot on the surface for a thousand years... Why have you come today to drive us to extinction?"
Despite the chaotic echoes in the voice, Roland still clearly detected a hint of...
...terror.
This monster... seems to be afraid of me?
Realizing this, Roland narrowed his eyes and cautiously replied in his mind, "We did not come to provoke a conflict. Your kin attacked first."
At this explanation, the giant eye's defensive posture seemed to relax slightly.
"Then... what is your true purpose in returning? Could it be because..."
The giant eye's gaze slowly shifted, finally landing on the Mithril Longsword in Roland's hand.
"A holy artifact of my people has been damaged... Are you here seeking its repair? Alas, I possess no such power."
"A holy artifact?"
Noticing where the colossal being's gaze had fallen, Roland's fingers unconsciously traced the hilt of the sword.
He recalled Durga's earlier tale.
Rudolph had once delved deep into the earth to find something to save a companion's life. Durga had then used that "thing" to forge and seal the companion's soul within the blade.
So, it seems Rudolph obtained this so-called holy artifact from this colossal being, and Durga used it to forge the Mithril Longsword to sustain his companion's existence?
Just as Roland was piecing the story together, the colossal being's voice echoed again.
"Though I cannot repair the holy artifact, I can help you release a portion of the seals on the sword, allowing it to regain a glimpse of its former glory. The condition is..."
The voice in his mind suddenly grew urgent, tinged with a hint of impatience.
"Human, I wish for you to leave this place immediately, and... never appear before me again."
Roland had no reason to refuse the colossal being's condition.
They had ventured deep into the ley line's depths solely to find the shell ship, with no intention of instigating a needless conflict.
As for questioning this ancient being about Rudolph's past...
Judging by its barely concealed hostility, it clearly harbored a profound and bitter grudge against him.
If it weren't for its wariness of this "imposter" Rudolph, it would have likely attacked long ago.
And its true strength...
Though its main body remained concealed within the profound darkness, with only a partial silhouette visible, the fleeting glimpse of its mountain-like form was enough to attest to its terrifying power.
Even if the true Rudolph could suppress it back then, the current Roland was by no means that legendary figure.
To avoid further complications, he rationally suppressed the urge to press the matter, merely nodding slightly and replying in a low voice.
"Very well. But..."
He raised his hand and patted the hull of the dormant shell ship behind him.
"We're taking this with us."
"As you wish, human."
The colossal eye slowly shifted upward, as if its massive body hidden in the darkness was transitioning from a crouching to a standing position, radiating a silent, crushing pressure.
"Then... the contract is sealed."
As the ancient being's voice faded, a faint yet pure milky-white radiance seeped from the depths of the endless darkness.
As if possessed of its own life, the light descended with unerring precision, enveloping the Mithril Longsword in Roland's hand.
At first, the blade merely hummed softly. But in the next instant, a sudden transformation occurred.
The Mithril Longsword slipped from his grasp of its own accord, hovering silently in mid-air.
In that moment, the very air in the underground cavern seemed to solidify.
Countless minuscule currents of air began to swirl slowly around the longsword, lifting fine dust from the ground and carving visible trails in the air.
The currents grew faster and denser, eventually forming a miniature vortex that encircled the blade.
This whirlwind did not rage chaotically; instead, it carried a strange, rhythmic quality, as if performing an ancient ballad.
And at the center of this vortex of wind, the longsword was undergoing a complete metamorphosis.
The once obscure and indecipherable inscriptions on the blade now seemed imbued with life. One by one, the characters lit up, flowing with a silvery brilliance.
No longer static carvings, the words began to drift slowly across the sword's surface, like a river of stars swirling within.
At the same time, the longsword's form was undergoing a cataclysmic transformation.
The once plain and unadorned blade seemed to be infused with a soul. Starting from the crossguard, it extended and widened, taking on a more slender and elegant shape, its two edges curving into a smooth, razor-sharp arc.
The single silver hue was replaced by a deeper, more profound pale silver that seemed to harbor the light of the stars.
Down the center of the blade, a slender golden line of light, pulsing like a heartbeat, stretched from the hilt to the tip—a sacred vein imprisoned within the sword.
The most striking change was the crossguard.
No longer a simple cross, it unfurled outward into the shape of a creature's wings, slightly folded. The lines were both powerful and graceful.
At the very center of the wing-shaped guard, a blue gemstone, previously unseen and resembling a condensed starry sky, quietly emerged. Within it, liquid light flowed slowly.
The sword now radiated more than just a keen edge; it exuded a solemnity and mystery from a distant era.
It was no longer a mere object, but a noble being, long dormant, now awakened.
(End of the Chapter)
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