Cyril Roland was once a legendary paladin known as the Radiant General.
He had led his legion out to sea, only to cross paths with Anbaixiu and suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of Arthur Ryan.
Afterward, Anbaixiu’s mocking retort—"The Lord of the Dawn is on my side!"—had infuriated him so deeply that he spat blood on the spot, his faith nearly shattering entirely.
Severely wounded, Cyril Roland had split his legion into two paths, intent on uncovering what had truly gone wrong with Ryan.
Yet no word of him had come since. No one knew that this former Radiant General now resembled nothing more than a vagrant, nor did anyone suspect that Cade Watson was in contact with him.
In a hoarse voice, Cyril Roland said, "Stop calling me 'General.' I'm not even a paladin anymore—just a useless cripple."
"The Holy Light hasn't given up on you, yet you're the first to throw in the towel, babbling about being useless all day," Cade Watson countered. "True slackers don't earn the title just by getting drunk and passing out in a pigpen. When it comes to that, I'm far more experienced than you."
Not the least bit offended, Cyril Roland replied, "Did you contact me just to humiliate me? In that case, I have plenty of time. Consider it a lullaby."
Cade Watson sighed. "We had a deal: you owe me a favor, and now it's time to pay it back. I need you to investigate something for me..."
He dumped all the intelligence regarding the dwarves over to the Radiant General.
"I'm worried the dwarves are hatching a conspiracy. General Roland, please look into this thoroughly. If you don't, millions of lives could be at stake."
Cyril Roland's expression turned grave. After carefully reading through the reports, he nodded. "I understand. I'll go look into it as soon as possible. But why come to me? Aren't there better candidates? There's no way Master Ultraman is ignorant of intelligence concerning the dwarves, is there?"
Anbaixiu's resurrection was hardly a secret to many, especially within Ryan's upper echelon, who had basically all learned of it by now.
Though most kept quiet about it, everyone knew the weight that figure carried.
If anyone in this world excelled at schemes and conspiracies, or held the world's largest intelligence network, it was undoubtedly Master Ultraman.
Ryan's World Council was intimately tied to this master. Wouldn't it be far simpler to ask him for intelligence on the dwarves?
Yet Cade Watson shook his head. "Do you know whether Master Ultraman is closer to the dwarves or to Ryan?"
Cyril Roland opened his mouth, but only silence followed.
A lich, a greedy capitalist, a world-saving hero... Every single one of his identities shared tangled, inexplicable ties with Ryan, making it impossible to analyze him from a simple factional stance.
The relationship was simply too intricate—so intricate that the world's finest historians had no idea how to chronicle this towering figure. It was rumored that more than a few scholars had come to blows and drawn blood just trying to verify the events of this lich's life.
Had the exhaustive *The Legendary Life of the Lich Ultraman Tiga* not been published recently, the academic world might have claimed several more lives over the dispute.
Cyril Roland had thumbed through that biography until its pages were practically worn to shreds, desperate to understand why the Holy Light would stand beside a lich, and how that lich had managed to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with the Holy King against the Demonic Dragon.
Putting aside the substantial portions concerning women, Cyril Roland had finally begun to see why a lich could receive the Holy Light's blessing. His actions were far more righteous than those of the Ryan Empire, and the innocent lives he had saved surpassed what every paladin combined could claim.
From that moment on, Cyril Roland had completely abandoned his desire for vengeance. Yet he had no idea what he was supposed to do with himself.
The Demonic Dragon was dead, the Holy King Arthur had sacrificed himself, and even the lich had vanished.
If Cade Watson had not hauled him out of that pigpen, Cyril Roland would have probably drunk himself to death in the filth. Though Cade had dissuaded him from ending his own life, Cyril still felt a twinge of pain whenever Anbaixiu was mentioned, as though revisiting the greatest humiliation of his existence.
Cyril Roland sighed. "Fine, I'll head over to the dwarves and investigate. But don't get your hopes up too high. If the dwarves are truly planning something, the current Ryan likely won't be able to handle it anyway."
"Just do what you can. Regardless, the deities are watching over us."
Cade Watson looked up at the sky, a faint aura of Holy Light glowing across his body.
Cyril Roland's eyes lit up in surprise. "You broke through to legend?"
Cade Watson sighed. "I didn't want to advance, but if I hadn't, I would have died of exhaustion long ago."
As a scion of the Watson family, stepping into the realm of legends was merely a matter of time; everyone had always thought so, though Cade Watson himself had never shared that ambition.
After all, Ryan did not permit methods to artificially prolong life. How many more years could a legendary cleric of light live compared to a high-ranking cleric of light? According to Ryan's records, the difference was less than a decade—and clerics of light of the legendary tier actually tended to die sooner.
There was no helping it; clerics of light were naturally long-lived to begin with.
Yet once one attained legendary status, the responsibilities became far heavier, and the perils far greater. With a higher rate of accidental deaths in the line of duty, their average lifespan naturally plummeted.
Cade Watson had previously adhered to the principle of slacking off. He had never prayed earnestly nor worked with diligence, muddling through each day and being written off as good-for-nothing for years.
Yet he had lived comfortably, in high spirits and great health.
Lately, however, that was no longer an option. To shoulder the burdens weighing down his family, Cade Watson had been forced to work diligently, which naturally led to his breakthrough into a legend.
Cyril Roland remarked with emotion, "Perhaps you should have been the Supreme Arbiter. If the empire had been placed in your hands sooner, Ryan might never have fallen to such a state."
Cade Watson waved his hands dismissively. "Don't flatter me like that. In this historical upheaval, anyone is nothing more than a grain of sand, a single wave, powerless against fate. Ryan has its own future. We merely happened to be here, and all we need to do is play our parts well. Don't waste your days dreaming of turning the tide single-handedly. General Roland, you should understand that better than anyone."
Cyril Roland said nothing more, quietly terminating the communication.
Just as Cade Watson had said, even legends were virtually powerless amidst this chaos. In the entire world, only a single-digit handful of exceptional geniuses could sway the fate of the realm.
Figures like the Holy King Arthur, or that lich.
Now that the lich had returned, was there any chance the Holy King could be resurrected as well?
Cyril Roland could not help but wonder: if Holy King Arthur could be revived, would Ryan truly be saved?
"Ah, no use chasing wild fantasies. Just as Cade said, I should take care of my own duty first."
Points of starlight began to illuminate Cyril Roland's filthy frame. Fine glimmers wrapped around his body, transforming into a shooting star that streaked across the sky, flying toward the Dwarf Desert.
Chapter 591