A cold, slimy intent, thick with a malice like the sludge of the Deep Sea, washed over the walls of Roland’s soul like a tangible, silent tide.
His Spiritual Power, a full eighteen points, blared a frantic warning. Every cell in his body shrieked of the danger.
The calculating, venomous gaze and the imnse pressure radiating from the entity made Roland instantly understand the unbridgeable gulf between them.
’If I fought this thing...’
’...it wouldn’t be a fight. It would be suicide.’
Realizing this, Roland didn’t hesitate for a second, nor did he entertain a single thought of probing the enemy’s strength.
The instant he laid eyes on the being within the Shadow, his body had already reacted on pure instinct.
’Create an opening. Retreat imdiately.’
"Retreat!"
His sharp cry cracked like thunder.
It wasn’t to steel his own nerves, but to send the clearest, most urgent signal of retreat to all his partners.
At the sa ti, Roland’s left hand shot up like a bolt of lightning, his five fingers spread and aid at the soul-freezing Shadow in the depths of the cave.
"VMMMM!"
The Fire Elent in the air instantly erupted, surging like a tide along the Keel on his left wrist and into his mind.
The Rune etched into his Consciousness Shallows flared to life.
In the blink of an eye, a fireball materialized from thin air—condensed, scorching, its core shimring with near-incandescent light.
The space around the fireball warped from the intense heat, exuding an aura of Destruction.
With a low cry from Roland, the [Flaming Arrow]—a spell that consud nearly all of his current Spiritual Power and was amplified to its absolute limit by his Fire Elent Affinity—transford into a blinding stream of crimson light. It tore through the air with a piercing shriek, shooting with unerring accuracy into the cave.
The instant the Flaming Arrow left his fingertips, Roland didn’t even wait to see the explosion.
He spun around, unleashed a blast of Fighting Spirit, and shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, racing toward the stunned crew and his partners.
"All hands, retreat! Get on board! Now!"
His roar, filled with unmistakable finality, drowned out the shriek of the Flaming Arrow.
The mont Roland cried out, Teresa and Galvis had already sprung into action reflexively.
Their trust in Roland was bone-deep, especially when he displayed such unprecedented gravity and urgency.
Teresa beca a blur of silver light. Sheathing her foil, she instantly shoved several dazed crew mbers toward the ship.
The notes from Galvis’s Harp suddenly grew sharp and frantic.
It was no longer a lody of attack, but a powerful spiritual goad, like an invisible whip lashing the crewn to dispel the paralysis brought on by their Fear and shock.
"BOOM!"
At almost the sa instant Roland turned to sprint, an earth-shattering explosion erupted behind him.
The vastly empowered [Flaming Arrow] had detonated, instantly unleashing scorching heat and a violent shockwave.
The hard reef rock instantly cracked and lted under the extre heat, triggering a chain reaction.
"CRACK! BOOM!"
Huge chunks of reef, like a ceiling shattered by a giant hamr, ca crashing down.
A mixture of dust, steam, and pulverized rock erupted from the cave’s depths like a tsunami.
The entire cave began to shake violently, as if it were about to collapse completely.
But amid the roiling dust and the rain of falling rubble, the tall, slender figure standing at the edge of the Shadow seed to have only swayed slightly.
Its "eyes," steadily pulsing with an ominous purple light, pierced through the chaotic dust cloud and locked precisely onto Roland’s rapidly retreating back.
There was no furious roar, no move to pursue—only an even colder, more profound intent that began to spread.
It was as if the creature were silently recording and analyzing its prey—the one who dared to create chaos before it and attempt an escape.
The sensation of being so thoroughly scrutinized made Roland’s scalp tingle as he ran, but he didn’t dare to pause for even a second.
The collapsing cave blocked any path of pursuit, buying them precious ti.
Like a guardian streak of light on the party’s flank, Teresa constantly batted away or deflected smaller stones shaken loose by the tremors, keeping their escape route relatively clear.
Spurred on by their survival instincts and the residual warmth of Roland’s [Embers Echo], the crew scrambled toward the gangplank with surprising speed.
After Roland threw the last crew mber directly onto the deck, he and Teresa exchanged a glance.
Without a word, they pushed off in perfect sync, preparing to leap after them onto the safety of the deck.
But just as their feet left the ground, their power erupting as they launched themselves into the air...
"VMMMM!"
There was no sound, or rather, it was not a sound that registered on the eardrums.
An indescribable, terrifying impact composed of pure Spiritual Power erupted from a central point, sweeping across the entire clearing like an invisible, viscous maelstrom from the Deep Sea.
The force was cloying and cold, heavy as lead, and carried a pure malice ant to shatter the will.
Though not a physical blow, it was more lethal than any corporeal attack.
It stabbed deep into the soul, like a spiritual collapse detonated in the very core of one’s consciousness.
It was both an imnse weight grinding thought to dust and a set of invisible claws tearing consciousness to shreds.
In mid-air, Teresa’s silver form suddenly went rigid.
Her sharp eyes instantly lost focus, her pupils dilating as if she were witnessing her deepest nightmare.
In that single mont, all her movent, all her power, all her awareness was utterly frozen and shattered.
A choked, agonized gasp escaped her throat.
Then, like a kite with its string cut, her body went limp. Her upward montum vanished, and she plumted straight to the ground.
On deck, the color drained from the face of Galvis, who had just found his footing.
The Harp in his hands let out a piercing shriek as several of its strings snapped at once.
He felt an irresistible, icy hamr slam into his mind. All his thoughts, his sense of music, his very Spiritual Power were instantly churned into a boiling, chaotic slurry.
He grunted, clutching his head as he fell to his knees. His body convulsed violently as thin trickles of blood began to seep from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose.
As for the crew mbers who had just scrambled onto the deck, still reeling from the shock, they collapsed in unison, like wheat before a scythe.
So fainted outright. Others clutched their heads, letting out silent, agonized screams as they curled into balls on the deck, their eyes vacant, foaming at the mouth.
The entire deck instantly fell into a deathly silent chaos, leaving only pained convulsions and the hollow gasps of those whose consciousness had been forcibly Stripped away.
Only Roland.
The instant that destructive Spiritual Shock touched his consciousness, an indestructible power deep within his soul suddenly awakened.
[Will of Steel]!
Any force that sought to twist, control, or disintegrate his will shattered and dissipated the mont it touched that cold, pure, steel-like barrier of absolute self, like a wave crashing against a reef.
Roland only felt a sensation akin to a cold needle pricking his brain, followed by a fleeting, minor dizzy spell.
Then, the spiritual Storm that was enough to make anyone else collapse instantly vanished before his rock-solid will.
His movents didn’t even falter.
Out of the corner of his eye, he even caught sight of the figure that had appeared behind him like a phantom.
It stood at the edge of the dust cloud, which had not yet fully dissipated, less than ten paces away.
The tall, slender creature, its "eyes" pulsing with purple light on its smooth, hairless head, was staring at him coldly.
Its tentacles swayed slightly, a silent declaration...
...that it was the one who had just unleashed that terrifying attack.
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