Chapter 665 - 553: Serrated Anchor

Chapter 665: Chapter 553: Serrated Anchor

"Hey, brother! What’s wrong?"

As he was lost in thought, a broad hand landed with some force on Roland’s shoulder, shattering his turbulent thoughts.

Holland had appeared beside him at some point. Following Roland’s earlier gaze, he also squinted, carefully studying the inky-black, sunken patch of water and the dense fog lingering above it.

But in Holland’s eyes, it was just another perfectly ordinary scene in this treacherous reef.

An unnervingly calm, pitch-black water surface, surrounded by menacing, slick rocks, and the year-round fog that carried the stench of the sea and a faint smell of sulfur.

There was no space-rending Illusion, no ripples of residual Energy, and certainly not that pair of chilling, wicked dragon eyes.

Everything was just desolate and deathly still, filled with nature’s untamed, primal danger, but with no hint of anything beyond the ordinary.

He scrutinized it several times, even standing on his toes to try and see farther, before finally scratching his coarse brown hair in confusion and muttering.

"I’ve been staring for ages, but there’s nothing here besides rocks, water, and fog... Rudolph, did you find something?"

Seeing that Roland didn’t answer immediately, Holland glanced up at the sky again.

The last sliver of daylight was rapidly sinking below the horizon. The deep violet twilight intertwined with the gray sea mist, making visibility even worse, and a damp chill began to seep through their clothes.

"It’s really getting late..."

Holland rubbed his hands together, exhaling a puff of white breath. He turned to Roland, his tone becoming pragmatic.

"That ’thing’ you’re looking for, where is it, roughly?"

"We can’t count on that invalid Ellis. Let him catch his breath. I can still move, want me to help you search around?"

Hearing Holland’s words, Roland gently shook his head.

"Thank you, but there’s no need."

His voice had returned to its usual composure as his gaze shifted from the distant void to Holland’s puzzled face.

"I’ve already found what I was looking for."

"Huh?"

Holland’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes practically overflowing with skepticism.

He’d been standing right behind Roland the whole time and hadn’t seen him do anything but "space out." There was no searching or investigating whatsoever.

"Found it? When did you find it? How come I didn’t see anything..."

Ignoring Holland’s questioning gaze, Roland asked a different question.

"Holland, how much do you know... about Dragon Descendants?"

"Dragon Descendants?"

The sudden change of topic made Holland pause. He stroked the rough stubble on his chin and pondered for a moment before finally spreading his hands in resignation.

"I only know they’re somehow related to the legendary Giant Dragons, look half-human and half-dragon, are probably pretty strong, and I hear they don’t have the best tempers... As for anything else..."

He shrugged, indicating that for a Priest who wasn’t a scholar, his knowledge of such a relatively rare Race was quite limited.

"Dragon Descendants..."

Just then, a clear but slightly weary voice cut into their conversation.

Ellis, who had been resting behind a nearby rock sheltered from the wind, had apparently caught his breath. He was wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, his grayish-blue eyes fixed on them.

"Their origins, social structures, and even their systems of power have many different versions in academic circles and adventurer rumors, but there are a few core characteristics that are universally recognized."

He sat up a little straighter.

"Broadly speaking, ’Dragon Descendant’ refers to humanoids with a significant amount of Giant Dragon Bloodline flowing through their veins. The source of this bloodline is complex—it could be ancient pacts, Magic experiments, Curses, or the even rarer... natural crossbreeding. Therefore, the differences between individual Dragon Descendants can sometimes be vast."

"The most typical Dragon Descendants, the ones most people picture, usually have humanoid bodies but with draconic features on their heads, covered in Scales. They possess strong tails and, sometimes, vestigial membranous wings."

"As for the color of their Scales, eyes, and even certain special abilities, those are often related to the type of Giant Dragon their bloodline originates from. For example, a Red Dragon bloodline might lean toward Flame Resistance or even a breath ability, while a Blue Dragon bloodline might show an affinity for lightning."

"They are born with a powerful Constitution. Their Power and endurance far exceed those of ordinary humans, their Scales provide considerable natural protection, and they also have resistance to corresponding types of Energy damage. Many Dragon Descendants also inherit the ’Dragon Mighty’ from their Giant Dragon Bloodline—a Presence that can inspire Fear in the weak-willed. In terms of personality and culture..."

Ellis paused, seeming to choose his words carefully.

"Due to their powerful and unique bloodline, Dragon Descendant society tends to value Power, honor, and tradition. Individuals are typically strong-willed and... stubborn."

"Most of them live scattered, either integrated into or far removed from various societies. They are loners and do not like to travel in groups."

The young Mage gave a soft cough and concluded.

"All in all, Dragon Descendants are one of the most powerful Races in the world, but they are relatively few in number. When you encounter one, it’s best to maintain caution and respect, because provoking a being who possesses Giant Dragon Power... is generally not a wise move."

As he said this, Ellis’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly over Roland’s black pupils, which appeared especially deep in the dim light. But his eyes only lingered for a fraction of a second, so brief it was almost unnoticeable, before he nonchalantly looked away.

Then, as if asking casually, he continued in a slightly weak tone.

"What is it, Rudolph? You were so lost in thought, and now you’re suddenly asking about Dragon Descendants... could it be that the thing you’re looking for is related to them?"

Seeing Roland nod slowly, a flash of understanding crossed Ellis’s eyes.

He adjusted his posture, leaning his tired body back more comfortably, and continued.

"Most Dragon Descendants are erratic and hard to track down, but... in some of the unpublished research records from the academy’s ’Astrology and Geomancy Department,’ an interesting phenomenon was mentioned."

"Dragon Descendants, it seems, are unconsciously—or perhaps fatedly—drawn to places where Giant Dragons once dwelled for long periods or left a deep impression. But as for Giant Dragons..."

Ellis curled his lip, a hint of contempt in his tone that he himself might not have noticed.

"Those ancient, massive, and conceited creatures are even more eccentric and reclusive than Dragon Descendants, and their tracks are far more ethereal. Trying to find a Dragon Descendant by tracking a Giant Dragon? That’s almost as difficult as finding a Giant Dragon directly. It’s pure luck."

As he finished, Holland, who had been listening, interjected with curiosity.

"Hey, Ellis, from the sound of it... you don’t seem too fond of those big guys from the legends who can breathe fire and tear off roofs, huh?"

Ellis lifted his eyelids and snorted. Perhaps his exhaustion had weakened his usual restraint, because a comment dripping with personal opinion slipped out.

"Hmph. So-called Giant Dragons, if you strip away their brute strength and the accumulation of their long lives, are essentially just... hmm... exceptionally powerful four-legged crawlers."

"Their intelligence is often clouded by their arrogance and greed. Many of their behavioral patterns, in my opinion, are no more sophisticated than some Magic Beasts."

"Ha!"

Holland grinned as if he’d caught him in the act, and nudged Ellis with his elbow.

"Look at that! That’s the problem with you academy Mages! You complain that even riding a horse is too tiring, yet here you are, passing judgment on creatures that could slap you across the sea with one wing. ’Four-legged crawlers’? If you ever actually ran into one, I bet you wouldn’t even be able to finish a single Spell!"

A rare flush of color rose to Ellis’s pale cheeks out of annoyance. He glared at Holland.

"At least my knowledge and reason tell me that when facing an existence you can’t defeat with force, you should prioritize evasion and strategy, unlike certain people who only know how to swing a Nail Head Hammer and think with their muscles!"

"Hey! I don’t like the sound of that..."

Roland didn’t get too involved in their bickering, which was steadily veering off-topic. His thoughts were already immersed in the information Ellis had just revealed.

’Drawn by the aura of a Giant Dragon... gathering...’

He thought to himself.

’It seems that, unlike the "future" era where Giant Dragons have become little more than legends, at this point in the "past," Dragon Descendants aren’t exactly common, but they’re not extinct either.’

’However, trying to use this clue to actively search for a specific Dragon Descendant—one who is very likely the source of the Space-Time disturbance—was still like finding a needle in a haystack. He had no idea where to start.’

’In that case...’

As his thoughts reached this point, the scene from his earlier vision flashed clearly in his mind.

’The sight of Squirrel Qiao’s agile figure vanishing after a bewildered look around... and that hand, covered in a peculiar glove, reaching out of the mist toward the unconscious, floating Bronson...’

’Qiao didn’t look injured. He was moving quickly, more like he was accidentally dragged into this place and immediately began to search or survive on his own. He didn’t leave any clear, directional clues. But Bronson...’

Thinking of this, Roland quickly squatted down and pulled a small leather pen case and a pre-cut sheet of uniform Sheepskin Scroll from the pouch at his waist.

These were items he had picked up while restocking supplies at a Potion shop in Secret Silver City, just in case.

He unscrewed the special waterproof ink bottle, took out a slender quill pen, and dipped its fine tip into the thick black ink.

The nib touched down, moving quickly and steadily across the parchment.

The lines were not complex, but the structure was clear, rendered in a unique style.

In just a few moments, the outline of a pattern leaped onto the paper.

It was the very emblem from his memory, the one etched or embroidered on the back of the glove on the hand that had reached for Bronson from the mist.

The main part was the outline of a slightly tilted, diamond-shaped Shield. In the center of the Shield was a ship’s anchor pointing straight down, its fluke sharp, its shank and stock rendered in bold, powerful lines.

Behind the anchor were a slightly curved Pirate’s Curved Saber and a straight spyglass, crossed.

The Shield was adorned with three six-pointed stars arranged in an arc above it, while a simple, wavy line symbolizing an ocean wave decorated the bottom.

The entire design had distinct lines, its pragmatic style exuding a rugged sharpness unique to seafarers. Though it lacked any lavish decoration, it possessed an undeniable presence.

"Hey, what are you looking at so intently?"

Holland, still gloating from his verbal "victory" over Ellis, squeezed in next to Roland and craned his neck curiously.

When his gaze fell upon the drawing on the Sheepskin Scroll, he first froze, then a deeply mischievous, winking expression spread across his face. He nudged Roland gently with his elbow.

"Whoa! Not bad, Rudolph!"

He lowered his voice, but there was no hiding the teasing tone.

"It’s a pretty good likeness! What, are you also a little ’interested’ in the female boss of the ’Serrated Anchor’?"

He chuckled twice, completely ignoring the disdainful look from Ellis, and continued on his own.

"It’s normal, I guess. That woman may be... ahem, over thirty, and her temper is like a storm at sea—explodes at the slightest provocation—but as for her looks, well, she’s definitely easy on the eyes... At least along the coast of the Broken Star Sea, she’s considered a famous beauty."

"It’s just... tsk, the guys who’ve tried to make a move on her usually don’t end up well. You’re not thinking of..."

The Priest made a "you know what I mean" face, looking exceptionally sleazy.