Chapter 253: Chapter 241: Paladin Van Buren
In this urban ruin, overrun by metal constructs and creeping decay, Roland couldn’t find a single living being capable of bleeding warm blood, aside from the human soldiers led by Reggie.
So, when a wisp of fresh blood reached his nostrils, he couldn’t help but furrow his brow.
"Roland, what’s wrong?"
Galvis sharply noticed the grim look on his face and promptly plucked the strings of his Harp.
A stifled, somber melody, laced with tension, immediately echoed in everyone’s ears.
"Stay sharp, everyone."
Roland warned in a low voice, drawing the Secret Silver Longsword from his waist and firmly positioning the Silver Shield he had just acquired in a defensive stance before him.
"Something’s not right in here."
The last Magic Node was right before him, just a stone’s throw away.
Roland didn’t hesitate. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.
No matter what had happened inside, he had to go in and investigate.
If they really ran into a danger they couldn’t handle, there would still be time to retreat.
Aside from Witch Vanessa, who had yet to reveal her true abilities, everyone on their team was quite formidable.
As long as they didn’t run into an Extraordinary Professional, getting away safely wouldn’t be a problem, even if they couldn’t win the fight.
And his keen Perception detected no aura of a Transcendent in the stone house ahead.
Feeling slightly more at ease, Roland signaled for his companions to spread out. He then reached out and slowly pushed open the decaying wooden door.
An ear-piercing CREAK shattered the silence.
As the door opened, the scene inside was revealed through the widening gap.
A faint ray of sunlight, piercing the thin mist, streamed down from a crack in the stone roof, perfectly illuminating the center of the room.
There, an Array for converting Magic Elements was operating silently. Its crimson Runes emitted a faint, eerie glow in the light.
Before the Array, a figure was kneeling on the floor.
The figure was broad and powerfully built, clad in a suit of ancient, battered Armor covered in scars.
The figure’s hands were clasped in prayer, facing a simple wooden table. With head bowed and words muttered from its lips, its posture was that of a most devout believer.
On the wooden table sat a small statue, freshly molded from clay.
The moisture on the statue’s surface, not yet fully dry, was clearly visible.
Although it was impossible to identify the statue, its graceful figure undoubtedly indicated it was a female Deity.
The abrupt, harsh sound of the door opening brutally tore through the frozen silence.
The prayer stopped abruptly.
With an extreme slowness, like grinding bone, the figure raised its head frame by frame, then turned stiffly toward the door.
Lifeless, ashen skin, dry as withered bark, was exposed to the light... and...
...in its empty eye sockets, two points of eerie Soul Fire flickered silently.
’Another living corpse?’
The thought had barely crossed Roland’s mind when the living corpse spoke.
Its voice was hoarse and raspy, like sandpaper on rotting wood, but its tone was surprisingly calm, even carrying a trace of...
...gentleness.
"Greetings. Allow me to introduce myself..."
The living corpse slowly rose to its feet, facing Roland and fully revealing its weathered, decaying body and Armor.
"My name is Van Buren. I was once a Paladin, entrusted by a friend to guard this Array."
"May I ask your purpose for coming here, sir?"
Seeing Roland’s still-furrowed brow and his tight grip on his weapon, Van Buren let out a muffled sigh.
"It seems... there is no room for negotiation?"
As he spoke, his withered hand slowly moved towards the hilt of the sword at his waist.
However, as the Soul Fire in his eye sockets flickered, his gaze slowly drifted downward. When it landed on the Secret Silver Longsword in Roland’s hand, his movements abruptly froze.
"A Sacred Artifact?"
A hint of astonishment crept into Van Buren’s voice, his raspy tone rising a few notches.
"And... you seem to be resonating with it?"
He let out a soft gasp, then placed his right hand on his left shoulder, offering Roland a flawless, ancient salute.
"It seems you are also a devout believer. In that case... I should not cross blades with you."
The creature’s bizarre behavior made Roland raise an eyebrow.
Like Holland, the Soul Fire of the living corpse before him was exceptionally large and intense, indicating its power was by no means less than Holland’s.
But...
Roland’s fingers subconsciously stroked the cold hilt of his sword.
The Holy Power contained within this curse-free Secret Silver Longsword had already been proven in his previous battle with Holland.
It held an overwhelming advantage against Undead Creatures.
Therefore, even if his opponent’s power was on par with Holland’s, Roland felt not a shred of fear.
However, after sensing the goodwill in the other’s words, he reined in some of his aggression.
"My apologies, Sir..."
"Roland."
"Greetings, Mr. Roland."
Seeing that Roland had finally responded, the corners of Van Buren’s stiff mouth pulled upward with extreme difficulty, barely forming an arc that approximated a "smile."
"May I ask... what time is it now?"
"Night will be falling soon."
"Night is falling..."
Van Buren repeated in a low voice, and the Soul Fire in his empty sockets seemed to dim for an instant.
"Mr. Roland, how about this? I promised a friend I would guard this Array until dusk."
"Once that time comes, my promise will be fulfilled. Then... whatever you wish to do, I will not stand in your way."
"But if you insist on acting now..."
When Roland didn’t immediately object, he paused, and his raspy voice dropped lower.
"Pardon my bluntness, but even though my Power is less than thirty percent of what it was in my prime... you are still no match for me."
His calm tone concealed an absolute confidence.
"As I said, I am unwilling to fight a devout believer. Naturally... I would also prefer not to see you follow in the footsteps of that gentleman over there..."
As he spoke, he raised a withered arm and pointed slowly toward the depths of the room, to a shadowy corner untouched by the light.
Glancing in the indicated direction out of the corner of his eye, Roland’s pupils constricted and his brow furrowed deeply.
A figure stood there, nearly one with the Darkness.
Jia Xiu.
But at this moment, the Extraordinary Professional Assassin was in a wretched state.
His left arm was twisted at an utterly bizarre angle. His dark clothes were soaked through with thick, dark red patches, and blood dripped from his fingertips to form a small, dark pool at his feet.
Every breath sent a wave of immense pain through him, making his body tremble uncontrollably.
Yet despite suffering such a grievous wound, the Assassin didn’t cower or lean on anything for support. Not even a single groan escaped his lips.
On the contrary, his body was canted slightly forward, his center of gravity low. His right arm hung seemingly at ease by his side, but his fingertips were a mere inch from a hidden blade at his waist, holding him in an offensive stance, ready to spring.
But what was most chilling were his eyes.
Although bloodshot from the intense pain, his gaze remained cold and sharp.
They pierced through the layers of Shadow, locked tightly onto the Paladin, Van Buren.
There was no pain, no wavering—only a frozen killing intent and the Concentration of a viper locking onto its prey.
He lay in wait silently in the Darkness, licking his wounds and gathering his Power, ready to launch the most fatal strike with whatever strength he had left.
The air between the two congealed, leaving only a silent, blood-soaked standoff.
