Aslan thought.
The reaction of luck meant that there was a being with hostile intent in this place.
He wasn’t sure why that being held hostility or even what that being was, but it was certain that it was indeed an enemy.
It was likely a priest.
But who had caused luck to react?
Aslan casually scanned the room. There were a few guards and the king present.
Therefore, Aslan’s gaze first turned to the Dragon King.
The Dragon King, adorned with black scales and yellow pupils. The Dragon King, dressed in splendid clothes with wings symbolizing his power.
With a physique that showcased prominent muscles typical of a dragon, he had a kind face that seemed out of place.
But the Dragon King was not merely a king.
He inherited the divinity of the ancient deities. Though not much, he was a being granted the divine power of the gods of fire and metallurgy.
They could be said to be chosen by the ancient gods.
So, Aslan didn’t think that the Dragon King would be a priest or an equivalent threat.
Naturally, Aslan’s judgement began to lean towards the possibility of an assassin being present.
‘…Aslan, don’t believe anything until you see it with your own eyes. Doubt and contemplate. Do not be caught up in fixed ideas; judge with a broad perspective.’
Recalling the words from his former master, Budonggong, his thoughts hit a snag.
Then the teachings his master had imparted began to surface in his mind.
‘Think for yourself and prepare for the worst.’
What his master taught him was not just how to fight. It also included how to survive.
Thanks to those teachings, Aslan had survived and triumphed for 12 years in Geladridion.
It would be the same this time. As long as he did not lose his original intention, Aslan would not be defeated.
Aslan moved, assuming that the Dragon King might be a priest.
If he were a priest, how had he become one?
Was there a way to bypass the divinity of the ancient gods?
No, if that were the case, he would have first broken through the veil and descended upon Geladridion.
Then did he kill the previous Dragon King and just borrowed the shell?
That seemed closer to the truth.
Aslan looked at the Dragon King without revealing his thoughts. The kind golden eyes and the concealed killing intent in the turquoise eyes met.
“Are you alright?”
The Dragon King asked. Aslan lightly shook his head in response.
“It’s nothing. I just remembered that I left my weapon behind… I was worried it might be burdensome to be with an armed veteran.”
“Hmm? Ah, I see. I don’t mind at all, so do not worry. If you were to kill me, then that would also be the path chosen by the gods of fire and metallurgy; my life would end there.”
Saying this with a hearty laugh, Aslan reflected on his own armaments.
The hammer given by Phey, the scale shield used by Kobil, the blood sword and the beast hunter’s twin spears, the storm sword that took the form of a two-handed sword, and even the wings of Steamfalos.
Aslan was equipped with all his weapons. He was indeed heavily armed.
It was impossible not to be concerned, yet the Dragon King passed it off casually.
Whether that was trust in Aslan or confidence that he would not die, he could not tell.
If he were a priest, it would be the latter; if he was not, then the former.
In any case, it was not a normal way of thinking, so Aslan assumed a troubled smile.
“That couldn’t possibly be the case. If it were, I would truly hope for a private meeting.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard that the veteran can handle a hundred opponents easily… Yet you are blocked by mere guards?”
“Such things are all rumors. Of course, if the conditions and environment were favorable, I could cut down a hundred men, but… it is difficult without any conditions or environmental advantages.”
“Oh? And what would those conditions be?”
“For example…”
Aslan smiled and mentioned situations involving narrow spaces or open fields, hills, forests, rivers, and various advantageous environmental factors, listing the conditions that could be supplemented by scrolls.
The Dragon King’s golden eyes showed almost no emotion as he listened with interest.
Whether that was the gaze of someone trying to probe the opponent’s strength or the typical impassive expression of a dragon, he could not yet tell.
How could he test the waters and extract the truth?
While Aslan pondered, he brought up the reason for his visit to Belus Alphen.
“Oh, I got carried away talking about myself instead of my actual purpose. This isn’t the time for that; perhaps the Dragon King is so good at listening that I became excited without realizing it.”
“Haha, it’s no matter. It would be fine to speak of it now. So, what exactly is your purpose? I heard you came to represent the Calus Empire.”
With a kind smile. Aslan smiled softly and brought up his main point, not quite the main point.
“Are you aware that there is a civil war currently happening within the Calus Empire?”
“Of course. I know. A ruler must know such important information.”
“Then the conversation will be quicker. We wish to end that civil war. Initially, we intended to ally with Count Scherlukunde for that, but… events became tangled. If a neutral country like Belus Alphen, with its considerable reputation in the world, could express support for the peace agreement, things would proceed smoothly.”
“Hmm, if Belus Alphen expresses support, what will you offer in return?”
A predictable question. Aslan presented what had been promised by Emperor Ilyena in a letter, the tax exemption clause that would last for the next five years of trade.
It was an exceedingly favorable condition to end a civil war.
Nonetheless, the Dragon King agreed without any comment.
When Aslan asked why, the Dragon King answered readily.
“You must have your own advantages. There would be no harm to Belus Alphen in this, so why would I oppose it? It’s not as if I haven’t been troubled by the border blockade of Count Scherlukunde.”
That was a reasonable explanation. Aslan smiled and thanked him, bowing his head, while the Dragon King waved his hand, gesturing for Aslan to raise his head and called for a scribe.
While one guard went out to fetch the scribe, the Dragon King Bahamur spoke.
“By the way, I’ve heard that you were missing?”
“Oh, it seems the Dragon King has heard about it too. Yes, that’s true. I was actually missing for about two days. I got trapped in the Grave of the Voiceless.”
The Grave of the Voiceless. The Dragon King’s eyes widened with interest.
“In a grave? How did that happen?”
“It was when a veteran attacked a place where I had gathered to secure cooperation with Count Scherlukunde. During the fight, it collapsed. I got caught up in that and fell into the grave.”
“Oh… So? If you are here now and are not a specter, how did you escape?”
With an expression of curiosity. Aslan bore a smile at the innocently intrigued question.
“I escaped by magically altering the grave. Fortunately, I had mana and the magical tattoos matched perfectly, so there were no difficulties.”
As he revealed his tattoo, the Dragon King nodded his head with intrigue and said.
“You mean you did that without even interacting with the owner of that grave? How… interesting…”
His words trailed off.
The Dragon King’s mouth closed, and the hand tracing the scales on his chin fell.
Aslan’s turquoise eyes met the Dragon King’s golden ones.
This conversation about the grave was Aslan’s ploy.
No information about the fearless Boren was known to the public.
Even if they did know, they wouldn’t know the fine details.
Even a king of a country couldn’t know.
But a priest.
If he were a priest who could connect with the deity and receive information, he would know whose grave the Grave of the Voiceless was and that its owner was still alive.
Of course, he would not easily reveal it. So, Aslan deliberately engaged in small talk, leaking various unnecessary information to gradually distract and drop the bait.
Eagerly waiting for him to take that bait.
Aslan and the Dragon King’s eyes locked. As conversation abruptly halted, the guards displayed signs of confusion.
At the moment Aslan’s hand smoothly moved towards his cloak, his luck surged.
For the first time, an intense reaction. A fierce warning signal, like his brain was on fire. Aslan, feeling that reaction, quickly drew a dagger and threw it.
‘Piercing the Heart.’
The dagger, dyed a pale color, was imbued with the ability to pierce. It was a technique usable only by one who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts.
The dagger, holding that technique, soared through the air. At such close range, it was impossible to avoid while sitting.
Aiming for the heart. One strike to destroy the heart. The moment Aslan threw the dagger, he drew his hammer from behind.
Ka-krack…!
The dagger stopped.
It pierced one inch into the scales of his chest and halted.
Watching that scene, Aslan frowned.
The dagger didn’t just stop; it crumpled. It seemed to have hit something very hard and bent until it broke.
The scattered bronze-colored metal fragments. Only then did Aslan realize.
That was not a scale.
It was a fortress resembling a scale.
That fortress, sporting a kind smile, murmured quietly.
“Oh dear, I’ve been found out.”
