Chapter 138: I Am Roland, the Emperor!

“Lord Ganesa! Something terrible has happened!”

At the center of the arena, the main event of the Monster Festival had just begun.

The taming team was controlling the monsters with moves resembling bullfighting, guiding them to perform various actions. Some even climbed atop the beasts’ heads to showcase their mastery.

This spectacular display greatly fueled the audience’s vanity, and their excited cheers rolled in like waves.

“What’s going on? Could it be that the monsters have broken loose?”

On the highest platform overlooking the arena, Ganesa, who enjoyed the best vantage point, was chatting cheerfully with Shakti, the Level 5 vassal warrior and the most trusted of his children.

Upon hearing the anxious shouts from a vassal wearing an elephant-headed mask, Ganesa’s mood turned tense. This Monster Festival had been under close watch by the guild, and any mishap would be problematic.

“Not yet…”

But the vassal who came to report gave a rather ambiguous answer.

Ganesa tilted his head in puzzlement.

“Then why the urgency? And what do you mean by ‘not yet’?”

“The outpost where the monsters are kept is under attack. Everyone is resisting fiercely, but it seems they won’t hold out much longer.”

“That’s awful. Which vassal is responsible for the attackers? With the guild’s reinforcements, there should be multiple Level 4s inside and out. Could it be just Level 1 adventurers?”

Frowning, Shakti took over from Ganesa and began probing for details.

“They’re not Level 1 adventurers, but the attackers’ vassals…”

The reporting member suddenly faltered, their hesitation obvious.

“Have you also been brainwashed by the god’s nonsense? Speak up!”

Known as one of Orally’s most famous jesters, Ganesa’s unreliability was well-known. The peacekeeping of the Ganesa vassal was largely owed to Shakti’s efforts. While addressing her, the vassal’s respect and fear deepened, and with a grit of teeth, the truth was revealed.

“The attackers are from our own Ganesa vassal. Or rather, they are the guards we left behind. They released the monsters, intending to break into the streets. Thanks to the guild’s personnel blocking the entrance, the monsters and attackers didn’t escape immediately.”

“What did you say?”

Ganesa replied dumbfounded, his voice suddenly serious.

As a renowned benevolent deity, his eye for choosing vassals was impeccable. The reputation of the Ganesa vassal largely stemmed from their daily acts of kindness—and now these people had turned traitor?

“Impossible!”

Shakti flatly rejected the idea. She had personally arranged those guards. For them all to switch sides was inconceivable.

“It’s true! Their behavior is abnormal, and their bodies are covered with purple crystals. They’re like madmen—no matter how we call them, they don’t respond. Their current state is…”

Recalling the previous bloody and tragic scene, the reporter trembled, a look of fear overtaking their face.

For a battle-hardened Ganesa vassal member, who often faced monsters up close in dungeons, to display such fear, the situation must have been dreadful.

“Purple crystals… could it be…”

Shakti’s pupils constricted as she glanced at Ganesa. The usually carefree deity stood, his face grave as he issued orders like never before.

“Shakti, begin evacuating the civilians. Kill any remaining monsters. Use the arena as a stronghold and shelter as many people as possible.”

“Yes…”

Shakti nodded resolutely. Before she could leave, wild roars and frantic cries erupted simultaneously.

The overlapping wails drowned out the excited cheers in the arena. The crowd exchanged uneasy glances, soon giving way to unrest.

No words were needed—both Ganesa and Shakti understood this was the unmistakable signal that the monsters had broken free.

“Move quickly!”

Ganesa slapped the stunned messenger and hurried underground to face the impending disaster.

—

Roland remained entranced within the vast panorama.

Through this world’s perspective, he was on the verge of understanding everything.

The magical path he had chosen lacked a fixed direction, but within this vision, Roland felt capable of anything.

Whether it was resonating with fire elementals, perfectly fusing magic and mana within his body to become an incarnation of fire—each movement radiating immense power.

Or fully embodying a beast of malice, filling his body with soul, erasing undesirable human history and reality, wielding the power of creation and destruction.

Or transforming into a chaotic monster, merging completely with the dark side of the world, becoming its spokesperson and leaping to the pinnacle.

All these paths lay before him, within reach.

Yet Roland deliberately bypassed these dazzling futures.

For what was destined, he harbored no impatience. Having unexpectedly grasped this opportunity in this world, he would not waste it.

The contracted spirits had altered Roland but also left subtle gifts.

Even if he discarded all the power gained from mana, runes, substitutes, and talents digested through the spirits, Roland now would not panic as he did upon first arriving in Fuyuki. He had already obtained many tangible assets during his search for the spirits.

A resilient soul, a noble body, exceptional talent, and experience with broad vision.

With these, even if he lost the Key of All Souls, Roland would not fall.

That was the meaning of progress.

And now, stripped of those powers, what could his truest self accomplish?

What could Roland do?

He scrutinized all he possessed, his thoughts advancing—perhaps due to the grimoire or his own nature.

The concept of time stretched as he made his choice, granting ample moments to deliberate.

He pondered the forces he had personally experienced: the wonders of substitutes, the dignity of a demon’s soul, the profundity of mana magic, the breadth of talents embodying hope, and his ambition toward paradise.

Even the wisdom of a thousand journeys could not resolve his inner doubt.

He could only continue to expand his thoughts, sensing everything around him.

This was the vision granted only to the will of the world—a realm even the Holy Sovereign had failed to pierce.

Not because the Holy Sovereign was weak, but because the Parallel World was too unique.

The Fuyuki Adventure Chronicles was a stable world, where the interplay of righteousness and darkness and the choice of avatars meant that even upon reaching the summit, equivalence was impossible. Only by fully merging with darkness could one see what Roland now perceived.

The Parallel World was different. The heavens, the underworld, and the dungeon—the embryonic form of the world—interwove, suppressing the underworld into a peculiar paradise. Here, blessings from the heavens and resources from the underworld silently altered the original rules.

The decline of the magic system once exclusive to elves and fairies was proof. The potential and records of its people, destined to become myth and history, had been partly extracted as blessings.

The rules of this world were both powerful and fragile. Even Type-Moon, without becoming the special existence of human evil, could only cause disaster on a single world, incapable of devastating human history.

But the Parallel World was different. Before clear rules, even weak adventurers might wield power to overturn miracles.

Roland paused, comprehension dawning.

If this was so, could he, by his own might and with the grimoire’s blessing, leverage the so-called rules?

If he were to become the madman of paradise, with ambition to command the world, how could he lack the right to govern such ambition?

Roland smiled faintly and slowly closed his eyes.

“Shhh—”

A sound like something burning echoed. Boundless, profound magic surged within him like a tidal wave. This overwhelming power unsettled the mental world formed by the grimoire, causing it to flicker and blur.

After the fusion of soul and flesh, every moment Roland produced refined primal etheric magic, increasing in quantity and quality by over tenfold compared to before digesting the contracted spirits.

This majestic power, which even gods would respect, seemed to threaten to burst the mental world, but thanks to it, Roland’s unique world vision deepened.

Myths, histories, and many secrets etched in the records slowly surfaced. Yet Roland didn’t glance at them, his gaze fixed on the unknown ahead.

He sought a deeper, more primordial power of rules, something attainable only in the Parallel World at his current level. Even the next grimoire might not recreate today’s coincidence.

He had to consider whether this was his sole chance in life.

Not enough! Not enough!

Roland’s eyes flickered. He unleashed all his magic, letting its brilliance become flames that incinerated the fracturing mental world.

He had felt this countless times before—the reversal of individuals, the reversal of worlds. Back then, time rested in the Assassin Queen’s hands like a girl at her dressing table. As the Assassin Queen’s avatar, there was no reason he couldn’t do it!

At last, the mental world and the path began to collapse, and the familiar reality reemerged before Roland’s eyes.

“Mr. Roland, why are you dazed?”

Sheer’s face showed concern as she looked at the empty grimoire on the table, her eyes deepening.

“You’ve finished reading the grimoire… How was it? Did it help? Did you gain any powerful magic?”

“No, I didn’t gain magic, but it was indeed helpful.”

Roland’s faint smile appeared somewhat absent-minded, blinking in disbelief.

His vision of the world had returned to normal levels. Although he still sensed the flow of magic and the veins beneath the ground, it was far from the all-seeing, palm-of-the-world insight he once had. Regaining even a fraction of that would likely require long years of cultivation.

He hadn’t obtained any magic, so logically, he should have failed. Yet if that were so, what were the intangible, illusion-like gears he truly felt within his vision?

Roland’s lips twitched as he lightly reached out to touch those mysterious gears with his will.

Though they showed no strange traits or reaction, he genuinely felt the gears merging intimately with himself—like sunlight breaking through darkness, refreshing and uplifting.

It was as if he were their absolute master, and his ability to do this was only natural. What mattered was his understanding of this fact.

If he truly was the emperor ruling this world, he must firmly believe it was destined to happen.

Then, why not give it a try?

Roland clenched the gears tightly.

Around him, everything seemed to freeze as if in an illusion: Sheer, worried, standing beside him; Esther, the sword spirit, tugging at his clothes with concerned eyes toward the commotion outside; even the fork that had fallen from the table lingered suspended midair.

Yet Roland knew this was neither bullet time nor hallucination.

Within this frozen space, he could move freely and even caught the falling fork, placing it gently back on the table.

As if sensing something, Roland suddenly lifted his head in this seemingly still space.

The next moment, the quiet world was once more filled with noise.

“Sheer, Roland, be careful! Something’s wrong at the main gate!”

It was Liu’s urgent shout.

“Eh? Eh?”

Sheer cried out in alarm.

“Master?”

Esther’s concerned voice came as she tugged at Roland’s sleeve, her gaze shifting toward the commotion outside, but was drawn back by the fork now resting quietly on the table.

Amid the clamor, a smile uncontrollably spread across Roland’s lips. He had grasped the key incantation.

It could not be wrong. Though only for a moment, this was no illusion.

Without relying on substitutes, mana, or any contracted spirits’ aids, Roland had commanded time with his own power.

The pinnacle of reality and fate was entirely within his grasp!

His status remained unshaken!

Roland was the King of Time!

(End of chapter)