Colin had said that if he encountered anything unexpected, he should ring the copper bell, and someone would come to handle it.

But Roland wasn’t sure if the current situation qualified as what Colin meant by "unexpected."

Still, considering Colin was a prominent figure in Distant Harbor, and had even tried to recruit him before, he probably meant no harm...

With that thought, Roland tiptoed over to the rope and pulled it gently.

"RING RING RING!"

A crisp ringing echoed through the silent space.

But a moment later, silence returned.

Nothing happened.

Seeing this, Roland frowned. He swiftly shed his sleepwear and picked a suitable outfit from the wardrobe to change into.

Just as he fastened the last button, a muffled thud suddenly echoed from the dark corridor outside.

The sound was extremely faint; on any other day, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

But in the dead silence, the soft noise struck Roland’s ears like a clap of thunder.

Before he could react, a series of muffled thuds followed, one after another, growing closer and closer.

Clearly, the source of the sound was approaching his room.

"BANG!"

With a tremendous crash, the door was violently thrown open.

A figure flew in with the door, landing heavily on the soft woolen carpet.

’He’s...’

In the dim light, Roland’s gaze fell upon a dark blue uniform.

Its unique cut and insignia made him instantly recognize it as the uniform of a Guard who had been patrolling the perimeter of the Sea Pearl Hall.

’What in the world... is going on...’

Roland’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the Guard on the floor.

The man’s uniform was immaculate, the copper buckle on his belt still gleamed coldly, and his sword hung perfectly at his waist. There wasn’t a single sign of a struggle or injury anywhere on his body.

Yet his face was as white as a sheet.

His lips had an unnatural blue-gray tint, and his eyes were shut tight, as if he had simply fallen into a deep slumber.

Roland crouched down, his fingertips lightly touching the side of the Guard’s neck.

No pulse.

The skin was cold and stiff to the touch; he was clearly long dead.

But what was strange was that the Guard’s expression was exceptionally calm, even serene, as if his life had been silently drained away by some unknown force without him ever realizing it.

As if he had simply passed away in his sleep.

’How could this be...’

Roland pulled his hand back, his brow furrowed deeply.

A strong, healthy patrol Guard, dead right at his doorstep without any warning?

’And to die so... peacefully?’

Gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist, Roland took a deep breath. He moved silently, inching his way to the doorway.

The corridor outside was even darker than he had imagined.

The wall sconces were still lit, but their flames seemed suppressed by some invisible force, managing only to illuminate a small patch of the surrounding area.

Holding his breath, Roland peered out from the side of the doorframe.

The sight before him made his blood run cold.

Down the dark hallway, the body of a Guard lay every few steps.

They lay in various poses.

Some, like the one who had crashed through his door, had their eyes shut tight, their faces unnervingly serene.

Others stared wide-eyed, their pupils dilated, their faces frozen in twisted masks of terror, as if they had witnessed something indescribable in their final moments.

Still others had flushed faces, some even bearing bizarre smiles, as if they had been lost in some euphoric, hallucinatory state.

But without exception, their uniforms were all perfectly neat, their bodies showing no signs of wounds or struggle.

The entire corridor was silent, save for the faint, occasional crackle of the sconces, a stark contrast to the silent death that littered the floor.

Seeing this, Roland felt his throat tighten.

’These Guards...’

’How did they die?’

’What could possibly take so many lives so silently, without leaving a single trace?’

’And... what on earth did they experience before they died?’

Just as he was lost in thought, something in the Darkness at the end of the hall... seemed to twitch.

Sensing the movement, Roland’s muscles tensed instantly. His gaze locked onto the strange black Shadow at the end of the corridor.

From its silhouette, it appeared to be a human figure.

It was moving with an unnatural posture.

Its gait was slow and graceful, yet it was closing the distance with bizarre speed.

One moment it was in the Shadow at the far end of the hall, the next it had flashed several meters closer, as if space itself were folding beneath its feet.

Within a few breaths, the figure had stopped less than ten paces from Roland.

By the flickering light, Roland finally made out the newcomer’s appearance.

An unnaturally tall frame was draped in a spotless white robe, the fabric hinting at the gaunt, skeletal form beneath.

A hand as thin as a twig emerged from an overly long sleeve. Its grayish-white skin clung tightly to the bone, with knuckles that bulged almost grotesquely.

Beneath a wide hood, only a pale jaw was visible. The skin had a sickly transparency, so thin that the bluish-purple veins beneath were visible.

But the most horrifying thing was...

When Roland’s gaze met the Shadow hidden beneath the hood, a bone-chilling cold shot up his spine to the nape of his neck.

He couldn’t see its eyes, yet he distinctly felt a presence "staring" at him.

’Is this... someone from the Truth Church?’

The conclusion flashed through Roland’s mind in an instant.

After all, the figure bore a striking resemblance to the members of the Truth Church he had encountered before.

In the oppressive atmosphere, the white-robed figure suddenly let out a soft laugh, a sound as dry and raspy as rustling dead leaves.

"What... an unexpected delight."

As the words faded, it slowly raised its head. Beneath the Shadow of the hood, two points of eerie, gold light suddenly flared.

They were a pair of inhuman eyes. The pupils were long and thin like a snake’s, gleaming with a cold, metallic luster.

But even more terrifying were the emotions held within that gaze.

Ecstasy, craving, greed...

Emotions that should have been human were twisted into something horrifying within those alien eyes.

The way it stared at Roland was like a dying traveler in the desert finally finding an oasis, or a hungry wolf spotting a lone lamb.

That naked desire was so palpable it made every inch of Roland’s skin prickle and sting.

But Roland’s resolve did not waver in the slightest in the face of the creature’s bizarre behavior.

His eyes sharpened like a blade. He drew his left leg back and leaned forward slightly, already adopting a combat stance.

He still didn’t know what this white-robed figure was, but it was undoubtedly connected to the Guards who had died so mysteriously in the corridor.

That, and the suffocating malice radiating from it...

Before the white-robed figure could utter another word, Roland struck.

Though his injuries weren’t fully healed and he had only recovered eighty percent of his strength, his strike was still as swift as a thunderclap.

The Mithril Longsword carved a blinding arc of cold light through the dim corridor, aimed precisely at the white-robed figure’s slender neck.

The attack had no flashy techniques—it was pure speed, precision, and lethality.

A killing blow, tempered by countless life-and-death battles!

"SWISH!"

The blade passed through the white-robed figure’s neck without any resistance.

But in the next instant, the color drained from Roland’s face.

His muscles tensed as he leaped back several paces. He stared intently at the white-robed figure, his grip on his sword tightening unconsciously.

’That strike just now...’

’There was no sensation of hitting anything solid.’

’No resistance of a blade tearing through flesh and blood.’

The Mithril Longsword had passed through it as if it were nothing but a wisp of mist.

The unscathed neck and the bloodless blade were a silent declaration...

The bizarre feeling of his sword swinging through empty air was no illusion.