Magic was divided into two distinct branches.
One was called magic, and the other was called wild magic.
The so-called ordinary magic, as its name suggests, had straightforward characteristics, one of which was its casting method.
Ordinary magic had formulas.
To create these formulas, incantations and hand signs were used.
Through incantations or hand signs, the form was created, and the formula was manifested, processing mana appropriately for use.
If compared to cooking, ordinary magic corresponded to ordinary cooking.
On the other hand,
Wild magic had no formulas.
It was magic that manifested in its most primitive form, without formulas.
It was magic that heavily relied on the senses of the mage using it.
Because of this, while ordinary magic was calculated and logical, wild magic was excessively sensory.
As such, even if one was born with the talent, many could not use it, and even if the same amount of mana was poured in, it did not yield the same efficiency as ordinary magic.
The efficiency of mana was poor, and the range of the magic’s effect was limited. Complex effects could not be aimed for.
However, it was not bound by incantations or hand signs.
The advantage of wild magic was its overwhelming casting speed and the auxiliary uses that came from its simple usage.
For Aslan, who preferred close combat, it was an excellent tool.
Aslan felt the mana flowing through his body and leaped forward.
Swish!
In sync with his movement, a troll with white fur extended its forelimbs.
It was a terrifying weapon with several sharp claws like blades.
Aslan watched the arm and raised his blade.
Clang!
The claws that struck the blade bounced off. The monster let out a short cry and staggered.
That attack was not something Aslan could normally withstand.
The white-haired chrome weighed several times more than Aslan.
The downward strike with its full weight was not something that could be normally blocked.
It was an attack that should have been avoided.
But Aslan blocked it. At the moment of impact, Aslan reinforced his strength with a small amount of mana and deflected it.
The momentarily increased strength pushed the monster back, and Aslan swung his sword.
Slash!
The sword passed through the chest covered in white fur. The slash, which seemed to only graze, actually tore off a large chunk of flesh.
This was also the effect of mana. Aslan infused mana into the sword at the moment of swinging, increasing its weight.
As he sheathed his sword, the monster with its chest torn lowered its stance.
Roar!
The chrome roared and charged, and Aslan extended his hand.
Whoosh!
An intangible force shot out from his palm.
It was not a force to harm but to push.
The shockwave that hit its face pushed its head back, and the troll fell.
Crash!
As the troll fell, Aslan swung his mace. There was no need to increase its weight with mana. The swung mace struck the troll’s temple.
The large body tilted and fell backward. Even if it was a monster, it could not withstand an attack that shook its brain.
As the staggering monster let out a pitiful cry, Aslan lightly shook the blood off his mace.
He had only invested one point of mana.
Even that made it so much easier. Even using magic became easier.
The sensation of using magic was very familiar. With the assistance of the tattoo, it was natural after 12 years of use.
So, using wild magic was as easy as breathing. Although complex magic was still out of reach for now.
‘This much should work.’
Aslan had fought well even without magic. Just having magic to assist him made a significant difference in efficiency.
Now, the only thing left to verify was beyond efficiency. Aslan watched as the staggering troll’s body gradually became transparent and let out a thoughtful hum.
The white-haired chrome was troublesome because of that. The ability to turn transparent.
The ability to make its fur transparent, allowing it to ambush or escape.
Normally, it would have been overwhelmed without using transparency, but Aslan did not do that.
Instead, he closed his eyes. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and let his weapon hang.
Luck was a unique stat.
It increased critical hits, evasion rate, and drop rate, a truly meta stat.
And Aslan expected that the luck stat worked in an intuitive direction.
Intuitively predicting and dodging attacks, or intuitively choosing weaker or more critical parts while swinging a weapon, or intuitively choosing places with better items.
He accepted it as a stat that expanded the realm of intuition.
Finding the transparent white-haired chrome was a verification for that.
Aslan, who had been breathing low, suddenly lowered his stance and turned his head.
Swish!
The chrome’s forelimb brushed past his shoulder and neck. As the terrifying claws passed by, Aslan pulled up the corner of his mouth and smiled.
It felt like a presence brushing past. Aslan felt that vague sensation strongly and turned his head, thus dodging the troll’s attack.
Aslan entwined his arm around the passing troll’s forelimb.
He reinforced his strength with mana. The heavy weight pressed down on his right arm and upper body, but he could throw it.
“Huff!”
Aslan took a breath and threw the chrome’s forelimb.
Crash!
The heavy body slammed down with a loud noise. The impaled monster screamed. Aslan, holding the forelimb, raised his mace.
Thud!
The iron lump crushed its eye. As soon as the monster screamed, Aslan’s mace fell repeatedly.
Bang, bang, bang, crash!
He struck, struck, struck, and struck. With each strike, the monster’s other forelimb trembled. The mace head, which had been striking repeatedly, made a snapping sound and suddenly broke.
As the solid metal mace broke, Aslan released his entwined arm and gripped the mace handle with both hands. The broken end was pointing downward.
Crunch!
As Aslan struck down with the mace handle, it pierced the eye socket and crushed the brain, and the chrome collapsed without a sound.
Aslan watched as the transparent monster’s fur gradually turned white and then reddened, then stood up.
Originally, it would have been a tough opponent. One that required relentless assault, and perhaps even the use of magic stored in the tattoo.
But with a bit of mana in hand and the ability to use wild magic, it became an easy opponent.
Aslan, sheathing the longsword he held in his left hand, was convinced.
He could fight on equal footing with the priests that would appear in the future.
With that conviction, he nodded to his companions who were looking at him with surprised expressions.
“Let’s go.”
No one dared to say no.
They stepped out into the rain.
With a clinking sound, the chains wound up, and the iron gate slowly rose.
The speed was too slow. Even with three people pulling on the pulley, it seemed like one would have to wait a long time to pass through the gate.
How far would the battle’s veteran have gone while waiting like this?
It was slow enough to cause impatience.
Finally, unable to bear it, the lord shouted.
“Hurry up! The martial master is waiting!”
Despite the lord’s urging, the speed did not change much. The guards, groaning as they pulled the pulley, had to avert their eyes.
Because the 3-meter-tall martial master glanced at them.
Eventually, the martial master, calculating the gains while looking at the gate, could not bear it.
“Excuse me.”
He said so and grabbed the gate. Then, the creaking pulley stopped.
Creak, creak
Then, he forcibly pushed the gate up. The three guards, who had not yet released the pulley, made sounds of surprise and tangled with each other, falling.
But finally, the gate fully opened. Revealing a dark passage.
“Be careful.”
The one who opened the gate said so and entered the passage. The belatedly fallen guards and the lord followed.
The martial master, leaning on a large spear, tilted his shield and prepared to pass through the narrow space.
“Uh, the torch…”
“It’s fine. My night vision is good.”
The martial master, with his glowing compound eyes, spoke, and the lord swallowed and flattered.
“Ah, indeed, you are the foremost blade of the Supreme Divinity! This much darkness…”
“I am not the foremost.”
The martial master lightly replied and moved forward into the earthen and stone passage. The lord and guards struggled to follow.
“There are many above me, and there is also the one called the Supreme Divinity’s Sword. I am just an old man barely avoiding the lowest seat.”
Though it seemed like humility, there was a hint of emotion in his words.
Knowing well where that emotion came from, the lord swallowed and looked at the bundle on the martial master’s waist.
A bundle with countless overlapping outlines of heads.
Most of the heads inside were not even veterans, let alone masters.
The martial master, compulsively collecting heads to build achievements and rise higher.
The oldest martial master.
People feared this martial master and called him thus.
‘The Collector…’
The old monk tapped his spear on the ground as he moved forward.
The Collector stopped after a while in front of a pile of corpses.
They were mud trolls.
The corpses of monsters with crushed and severed heads.
The Collector stared at the corpses, then extended his spear and poked at them with the butt end.
“Hmm, hmm.”
He hummed as he flipped the corpses and examined the cross-sections. Then, he spoke.
“Excellent skill. With an unstable posture right after swinging the weapon, he severed the neck of the falling monster. Truly a veteran’s swordsmanship.”
Of course, the lord, who could not see well in the dark, had no way of knowing, but the Collector’s voice carried a quiet satisfaction.
“It is indeed the battle’s veteran. To my knowledge, only the sword’s veteran and the battle’s veteran can wield such a sword. The sword’s veteran is in the Vida Kingdom, so it must be Lord Aslan.”
Having said that, the Collector clicked his lower jaw regretfully and added.
“If you had caught him, we could have offered him, but… if such a fine believer were to die, it would be my fault. I cannot blame you.”
The lord, who had been worried about being scolded, let out a sigh of relief with a glimmer of hope on his pale face.
The Collector, showing no reaction to the lord’s expression, retracted his spear and moved forward again.
The Collector continued to evaluate in detail how well and how each corpse had been killed.
The strange evaluation meeting ended when they reached a wide-open cavern.
“Hmm?”
It was a cavern without a single corpse. The passage stretched out on both sides, giving a desolate and artificial feeling.
The Collector stopped in the cavern, then approached the center and knelt on one knee.
“They camped here. They did not light a fire and rested for about 7-8 hours?”
Ignoring the looks of those wondering how he could know, the martial master scanned the surroundings with his compound eyes.
In those compound eyes, despite the insect-like face, there was a readable discomfort.
“…Something feels off. There’s a familiar energy here.”
Like a human, he narrowed his eyes and looked around. In the dim light, the large insect’s appearance made the lord swallow.
In the eyes of the martial master, the Collector, there was an energy like finely ground rainbow powder.
The energy was somewhat familiar, faint but intense.
The energy drifted around the campsite and then moved toward the passage ahead.
It was similar to what one felt when seeing a priest of another deity.
But it was different from any priest of any deity.
Not discomfort, but a form familiar as if originating from this world itself.
The old monk, who had lived since the deities had just become deities, opened his eyes wide and muttered.
“…Could it be?”
After a while of examining, the martial master stood up, and the watching guards and lord jumped in surprise.
Without calming the startled, the Collector extended his spear and traced the flow of the energy.
‘…This is the energy of an ancient deity.’
The Collector, who had been examining the traces with a lowered stance, moved forward again, and those following him had bewildered expressions.
As the passage progressed, it gradually brightened. Both in light and nature.
Grass began to appear, and light began to pour in. What was visible in the seeping light were clear traces of nature.
“…Hoh.”
It was a unique monster.
A mud troll with white fur.
A mud troll with a mace handle stuck in its head, dead.
The energy bypassed the monster and led to a wide-open exit.
“…Did the battle’s veteran have companions?”
“Huh? Ah, yes. Four prisoners…”
Four prisoners.
Though a large number, the old monk was certain.
The battle’s veteran had escaped Olpasbet with something carrying the energy of an ancient deity.
Creak, creak*
As the martial master laughed, his lower jaw rubbed and emitted a eerie sound.
“Thank you for guiding.”
After laughing for a while, rubbing his lower jaw, the martial master said so and leaped, stepping on vines and exiting through a hole in the cave ceiling.
Under the clear sky, the suddenly appearing martial master made the mountain beasts flee in haste.
Ignoring the fleeing beasts, the Collector rummaged through his bundle and took out the best-preserved head for offering.
The top of the head dented and disappeared into the air, and a thought resonated in the martial master’s mind.
Kneeling, the martial master spoke to his master’s will.
“Supreme Divinity, teacher of all, rejoice. We have found the trace of the ancient deity.”
The master, the Supreme Divinity, did not respond.
Then, the Collector bowed his head and added.
“Grant this unworthy one the strength to offer that head.”
Only then did the Supreme Divinity laugh joyfully.
