Read Novel Full Chapter 1537: Trial of the Third Stratum
Chapter 1537: Trial of the Third Stratum
"Your Excellency, has the Stoneheart Horde issued a new decree? The Centaur Race will fully cooperate!"
Looking at the incredibly respectful Centaur Khan before him, Rommath felt a complex knot of emotions.
This was one of the primary instigators of the North-South War. Ironhoof’s name had appeared in the Blood Elves’ intelligence reports countless times. Back then, fighting for his territory and his people, Ironhoof hadn’t feared the formidable alliance forged by humans, dwarves, and blood elves.
And now? At the mere mention of the Stoneheart Horde, at the mere sight of Rommath—a former captive now acting as an emissary—Ironhoof was bowing and scraping.
Unstoppable.
Rommath’s perspective broadened immensely in that moment. He saw a torrential tide, an unstoppable flood sweeping across the continent. This tide was the Stoneheart Horde, originating from the Giant King and swelling with the might of countless powerhouses.
Now, and far into the future, this tide would only grow more massive. Even he, Rommath, would be a part of it—and he intended to be a dazzling crest upon that very wave.
Emotion, reflection, and finally, epiphany. Rommath’s gaze turned distant and clear. Since the tide could not be stopped, he would ride it. He would catch the wind and soar higher and further than ever before.
"The Horde has issued no new decrees," Rommath said calmly. "I have simply never ventured this far north, and I am curious about the environment and the races that dwell here. I am merely passing through on a journey of sorts. You do not need to concern yourself with me."
Rommath surprised himself; his normally cold, haughty voice had softened considerably, flowing over the khan like a soothing spring breeze.
"A journey! That is good, very good!" Ironhoof breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It was hard to say whether he was comforted by the prospect of Rommath just passing through, or by the lack of new Horde edicts.
"Your Excellency, there is fine wine and roasted meat in my tent. Would you honor me by joining for a feast?"
Rommath shook his head, declining the invitation. Under Ironhoof’s watchful gaze, Rommath took to the air, gliding toward a massive snow-capped peak near the northern edge of the territory.
The north is bitterly cold and barren, Ironhoof thought, watching him leave. Aside from blizzards and emaciated snow beasts, what is there to see?
They say the entire Blood Elf Race surrendered to the Stoneheart Horde. What does he have to be so smug about?
Still... once this insectoid plague blows over, I need to find a way to officially swear fealty to the Horde too.
Ironhoof had been harboring thoughts of total surrender for a long time. However, he was terrified of Orion. Orion had personally witnessed him fleeing the battlefield like a coward, and Ironhoof feared the man despised his lack of honor.
Because of this, the Centaur Khan had hesitated, dragging his feet and living each day in a state of anxious, paranoid dread.Elsewhere in the freezing skies, Rommath flew onward. The closer he got to the snowy peaks, the more pronounced the excitement on his face became.
"Hope, are you certain the mystic aura is nearby?"
As Rommath spoke, a plump broodmother slithered out from his sleeve. It was Laito. After growing to nearly ten feet in length, the creature had acquired the ability to freely expand and shrink its body at will.
"Master, that intoxicating scent is growing stronger. It must be close," Laito replied. His voice was soft and crisp, perfectly mimicking the innocent tone of a young girl.
The broodmother Laito had undergone yet another evolution, granting him the ability of articulate speech.
At this moment, Laito’s spirits were soaring. He had locked onto the aura of an anchor base, and his eyes practically glowed with feverish excitement.
In Rommath’s eyes, this was simply the natural excitement of a loyal pet on the verge of unearthing a great treasure.
"Master, if we find the treasure, will someone try to steal it from us?" the broodmother asked, its childish voice dripping with feigned, adorable innocence.
"They will not," Rommath replied confidently. "We belong to the Stoneheart Horde. On this continent, aside from a few supreme entities within the Horde itself, anyone else who crosses my path will show proper respect."
It was no idle boast. After all, Rommath was the reigning king of the Blood Elves. With his power resting at the absolute peak of the Legendary echelon, there wasn’t a fool alive blind enough to actively antagonize him.
Furthermore, ever since rumors of a potential political marriage between Pallas and Ariselle began circulating, Rommath’s status had become uniquely privileged.
"Master is so distinguished! Once we find the treasure, perhaps Master can ascend even higher," the broodmother coaxed. "Then, with Master’s help, Hope can evolve again and be even more useful to you!"
Laito’s words sounded utterly sincere. In truth, the insect king was extremely satisfied with Rommath’s unique status and careful modus operandi. Keeping a low profile, avoiding the spotlight, never starting trouble but never backing down from it—it was the perfect cover for lurking in the shadows and plotting grand, apocalyptic schemes.
"Master, the treasure’s aura is coming from that direction!" Laito pointed a fleshy appendage toward the looming mountain, a glint of cunning flashing in his alien eyes.
Hearing this, Rommath accelerated, his heart beating faster in anticipation. After a long flight, he touched down on one of the jagged, frozen peaks and set the broodmother down.
The Swarm’s adaptability was truly terrifying; Laito showed absolutely no fear of the bitter cold. After pacing the peak for a moment to get his bearings, he began leading Rommath down toward the mountain’s icy roots.
The Dreamlands, the Third Stratum.
It was completely desolate—a world constructed entirely of water.
After the smaller bubble enveloping Orion merged into a vastly larger one, he officially arrived in this miraculous realm. Its miracle lay in the fact that beyond the barrier of this colossal bubble, an endless, crushing ocean loomed in every direction.
Orion had the distinct, surreal feeling of standing in the heart of a submerged, glass-domed city.
Just as he was curiously surveying this layer of The Dreamlands, pondering what the next trial would entail, a mass of seawater violently ruptured the bubble’s surface, squeezing its way inside.
The moment the water breached the barrier, the bubble seamlessly healed itself, once again holding back the relentless pressure of the surrounding depths.
Then, an even more bizarre sight unfolded. Under Orion’s dumbfounded gaze, the intruding blob of seawater began to writhe and compress, rapidly solidifying into a physical form identical to his own.
A golden physique, wielding a war scythe, with the longsword Doomscourge strapped to its waist. Even the weapons were flawless replicas.
Sizzle!
Before Orion could utter a single question, the watery doppelgänger vanished, reappearing directly behind him in the blink of an eye. It violently swung the war scythe, flawlessly executing Orion’s own signature opening strike.
It’s not an imitation. It’s a perfect replica! The thought flashed through Orion’s mind and was instantly confirmed by the heavy clash of metal.
Its physical appearance, muscular density, weapon durability, combat style—even its skills were a one-to-one match with Orion himself.
In that split second, Orion grasped the true nature of the Third Stratum’s trial: he had to defeat himself.