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Chapter 110 A Moment of Ember

There was a three-second silence in the cave.

Verra saw Roland tighten his grip on his chains, witnessed the blinding azure energy, and felt the sudden surge of power.

She realized what was going on.

One can advance to a higher level in the face of battle and become a formal professional.

This is not impossible. The sulfurous aura is a sign of a demon. If he used related items to temper his body before arriving, then after a period of absorption, he could indeed reach the advancement standard.

Combining Roland's words with Verra's understanding, he realized that he was already prepared for the advancement, and that battle was merely a crucible for absorbing power.

But so what?

Twist your body, draw your gun, and thrust!

The dark red spear tip tore through the air, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound, aiming straight for Roland's throat with pure power and speed!

This single shot embodies eight years of her honed skills. Even if Roland had just advanced in rank, or if her condition were stable, it would still be impossible to stop her from achieving this.

When Roland parried with his sword, sparks flew from the spine of the blade, and the wolf's strength caused the sword to bend slightly.

He took three steps back, each step leaving cracks in the ground, before he could barely stop.

The second shot followed immediately.

The gun swept horizontally, smashing into the upright sword blade with a deafening roar. Roland was slammed into the rock wall by the blow, a metallic taste rising in his throat.

Verra sheathed her spear, runes flowing across her wrists, covering the spear she gripped tightly in both hands, adding a layer of shimmering light to its already dark red surface.

It's sizzling!

She flicked her spear, and the spear shaft instantly twisted, dissolved, and reshaped with the light, transforming into two blood-red chains that swept towards Roland like a tidal wave!

The chains tore through the air, each barb at the end gleaming with a deadly glint, weaving together into an impenetrable net that sealed off all avenues for escape.

Roland had nowhere to retreat; the chains were already upon him.

But he didn't move.

Vera saw into his eyes; there was no anger, no fear, only pure calm.

She was puzzled, then saw a phantom slowly emerge from behind Roland.

The illusory figure was a human male, with a young face, a gray-white battle robe, a tall and straight figure, and a jet-black, gleaming straight-bladed longsword that he gripped tightly in his hand.

Verra's pupils contracted sharply.

She recognized the style of the battle robe, the outline of the sword, and the posture of slightly slumped shoulders and the sword tip pointing diagonally to the ground.

In the empire's military manuals, in those yellowed parchment scrolls, in the sword manuals that countless people have tried to reach but have never been able to attain.

Legendary Sword Saint Steelwind Henk.

A legendary figure who swept through the northern barbarians three hundred years ago, he never lost a single charge in twelve solo battles and killed a three-headed black dragon with a single sword.

The Heavy Edge Slash, which he created casually in his later years, was included in the combat manuals of thirty-nine kingdoms and became the pinnacle that countless swordsmen looked up to.

The phantom figure before them appeared somewhat young, yet it already possessed the air of someone who would challenge a god many years later; its mere presence was enough to make it powerful.

The phantom took a step forward.

The movements were very light and slow, like taking a leisurely stroll.

Verra was unable to move no matter what she did, and the two chains that were supposed to kill Roland were suspended in mid-air.

will die.

"If I dare to move, I will die," was the thought in Vera's mind.

The illusory figure stood beside Roland, side by side with him.

He turned his head and glanced at Roland, a faint smile flickering across his blurred face.

Then, he raised his sword.

The movements were slow, so slow that Verra could see every single movement: the angle of the twist in the waist and back, the length of the arm extension, the arc of the sword's upward curve, and the pure, subtle light that flowed from the spine of the sword to its tip.

It's not magic, it's willpower.

【Embers】

Using the remaining will within a combat skill as a guide, summon a deceased professional to unleash the same combat skill at the same transcendent rank, reigniting their embers.

Roland's choice was...

Heavy Strike.

It was impossible to tell whether it was Henk or Roland who swung the sword; their figures had completely overlapped.

All that could be seen was the sword falling.

boom-!!!

It was not the expansion of sound, but the dissolution of existence itself. In the instant the sharp blade fell, air, sound, light, and magic were all shattered into nothingness.

A sword beam burst forth from the tip of the sword, three zhang long and half a zhang wide, carrying the power of three hundred years ago, and poured out towards Verra!

The moment the sword's edge flashed past.

The twelve chains were forced back into the shape of spears, then shattered and flew away, turning into hundreds of fragments that scattered in all directions.

The sword's edge slashed through Verra's body.

A deep, bone-revealing wound burst open from his left shoulder to his right ribs, and blood gushed out instead of seeping, landing on the rock wall not far away.

The sword light continued to slash, striking the rock wall.

Rumble—

The rock wall trembled, revealing a three-zhang-long, bottomless crack with smooth, mirror-like edges, extending from the ground all the way to the dome.

Everything returned to deathly silence.

Vera knelt on the ground, her right arm severed at the elbow, the cut smooth and clean, the muscle fibers clearly defined, and the white bones exceptionally clear.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end only spat out a mouthful of blood.

She looked up at Roland.

The azure light in the eyes of this newly minted professional faded rapidly, the afterimage behind him had dissipated, and his face was now deathly pale, his arms trembling uncontrollably.

Vera tried to say something, but she had lost all her strength and fell forward, silent.

The other imperial professionals in the vicinity stood there dumbfounded, and even the nobleman's private mage, who was fleeing in panic, forgot to stop them.

Also standing in the same spot was Celine at the cave entrance.

When she arrived, she witnessed the sword mark that pierced the rock wall, saw Verra kneeling on the ground, and saw Roland holding the Blue Crystal Heart.

They were ten feet apart.

Roland didn't move, and neither did Celine.

Celine tapped her staff lightly with her fingers, her bloodstained face icy cold.

She could make a move; with her strength, she had a hundred ways to kill Roland.

But she had some concerns.

She could still smell the lingering scent in the air: the greyish-white battle robe, the jet-black sword—the aura of the legendary swordsman still resonated.

She didn't know if Roland could summon a second sword.

A brief hesitation cost them their last chance.

next second.

The black patterns emitted a dazzling light, engulfing Roland completely and transforming into streams of light that dissipated into the stagnant cave.

Celine finally made her move, shooting out a jet of blood, but it only struck the empty rock wall.

She hadn't expected Roland to be able to teleport.

Only the three-foot sword mark remained in the cave, silently etched there, with Verra lying in a pool of blood below, the best testament to the legendary swordsman's embers.

Celine stared at the spot where Roland had left, remaining motionless for a long time.

at last.

She spoke softly, her voice slightly hoarse.

"check."

"Find out all the information about this person."

"Furthermore, inform the Imperial Archives that there is indeed another Chosen One in this world."

"His profession is—the Crown of Embers."

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