The sticky sensation underfoot. Aslan frowned amidst the vivid tactile sensations.
All these sensations were the dying screams and corpses of what were once souls, piled up and swirling around Aslan’s feet, emitting ghostly wails.
Aslan crushed yet another soul in the melee, reducing it to nothingness without a sound—another death.
The residue of the annihilated soul scattered on the floor, and Aslan irritably wiped the dark smudge of a soul from his cheek while frowning.
Aslan was dealing with every soul that lunged at him in this place.
These souls were the assaults of evil deities, an annual event carried out by those deities who had failed to seduce Aslan.
It was only when he saw the incoming souls that Aslan realized he had been unconscious.
Though he didn’t know how much time had passed or when it began, one thing was certain:
He was still alive.
But that was the only fortunate thing. Another soul came rushing in like a falling comet, its tail trailing behind as if clinging desperately. With a slanted stance, Aslan kicked off the ground.
With a splash, Aslan’s leg swept through the gushing stream of souls, tracing an arc resembling a full moon.
When the head of the crushed soul crumpled, Aslan stomped on it again as he landed. There was an illusion of a watermelon cracking, and another soul merged into the stream.
This was one of the reasons Aslan hated sleeping.
The evil deities did not merely attempt seduction. Those who failed often lusted after Aslan’s soul, sending waves of recycled priestly souls to swarm him.
At least this space was within Aslan’s dream, where he neither tired nor got injured. Thus, Aslan could endlessly kick, strike, and kill souls forever.
For how long had Aslan been battling the charging souls? The remains of the souls pooled thickly on the ground like a black reservoir.
After shattering another soul, Aslan glanced around with an irritated expression.
In Geladridion, dreams weren’t just illusions conjured by the brain; they opened the soul, making it more receptive to others.
Considering that even in the game ancient deities contacted the “protagonist” through dreams, this phenomenon wasn’t strange.
What was strange was the persistence of the evil deities toward Aslan.
Even the scenery of this dream made it clear. Dreams in Geladridion should have shown vast starry skies, but Aslan’s dreams were always an endless abyss devoid of stars.
And Aslan knew exactly why. After scrutinizing his surroundings for a moment, he shouted,
“How long do you plan to keep watching from there?”
No one answered, but the intensity of the gaze increased.
“Are you holding back because you don’t want to end up like a spider? Do you think you can capture me without letting go of what you’re clutching?”
Spreading his arms wide, Aslan yelled toward the sky.
“I’m here! Either come down and fight me, or all of you leave!”
The voice filled with anger sent ripples through the entire universe.
The violently trembling air caused Aslan to glare upward with a furrowed brow as the heavens split open.
Beyond the opening lay countless gazes.
Countless eyes, skins, tentacles, legs, sensors, and more stared at Aslan.
Their flickering gazes devoured Aslan, not like dying stars but like darkness consuming them.
Feeling the flashes akin to the cries of dying stars, Aslan smirked.
As the dream’s landscape slowly collapsed, Aslan muttered, sensing the receding gazes.
“Cowards.”
And then Aslan woke up.
Upon waking, the first sensation was sunlight. The bright rays seeped through his eyelids, tickling his retinas.
Opening his eyes, Aslan blinked at a ceiling that was unfamiliar yet slightly familiar. He rolled his eyes to assess the situation.
There, he saw several messages.
[LEVEL UP]
[ONGOING MAIN QUEST]
[Travel to the city of wizards to interpret the dream.]
While leveling up was welcome, the quest was less so.
Sighing, Aslan placed his arm over his forehead.
‘The quest order is messed up as expected. How many steps have I skipped… It’s going to be a bit annoying.’
Still, leveling up was good. Unconsciously extending his left arm, Aslan flinched.
‘Why is this here?’
Confused, he blinked, when suddenly a joyous, shrill cry sounded beside him.
“Aslan…!”
It was a woman’s voice, one Aslan knew well. Surprisingly, he turned his head to see Ereta.
Ereta, who had confessed countless times to Aslan, was covering her mouth while looking at him.
Recalling those thousands of confessions calmly in his mind, Aslan felt embarrassed. Attempting to speak as he sat up, he was interrupted when Ereta embraced him.
A soft sensation pressed against his chest, and through the thin fabric, he could feel her rapid heartbeat. Clad in only a thin layer of cloth, Ereta clung tightly to Aslan, pressing her cheek against his.
The warmth of her cheek and the sizeable bosom pressing against him left Aslan momentarily startled.
Those thousands of confessions were clearly from a vision, not reality. So, while Aslan could feel some familiarity and embarrassment toward Ereta, her actions were incomprehensible.
It was as though she thought he had died and come back to life.
Realizing this, Aslan blinked and glanced at his left arm.
If memory served, his left arm had cleanly disappeared. Moreover, during his final act of driving Pure Will into the enemy, Aslan had already lost consciousness.
If Eternal Dominion were a game with a level-up recovery system, this situation would make sense, but such a system didn’t exist in the game. Thus, Aslan’s current physical state was clearly abnormal.
His brain should have melted away, and his left arm should have vanished entirely. Yet his body was perfectly intact.
Judging by his presence here, Aslan had won despite losing consciousness at the last moment.
This couldn’t be a hallucination seen while dying since evil deities were present in the dream, confirming it was reality.
Considering all factors, Aslan couldn’t understand his current physical condition.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Aslan… I’m sorry…”
Patting Ereta’s back as she apologized tearfully, Aslan tried to grasp the situation but eventually gave up and opened the system window, hoping reviewing completed quests might give him a clue.
Upon opening the system window, Aslan saw something unexpected.
[Aslan]
[Strength 2] [Agility ■] [Health 2]
[Mana 7] [Will 7] [Luck 10]
Frowning, Aslan noticed the Health stat showing ‘2’ instead of the usual black box.
‘Why is this 2 points? How?’
He hadn’t acquired any new wild magic, nor had he boosted his health like Angie. The system window remained unresponsive even when he hovered over Strength, Agility, and Health.
As Aslan pondered, Ereta pressed her cheek against his face. The sweet scent of her body tickled his nose, but Aslan ignored it and thought.
The conclusion came quickly.
Ereta’s reaction was indeed that of someone greeting someone resurrected from the dead.
Aslan hesitated, asking Ereta nonetheless.
“Ereta, wait a moment…”
“I’m sorry…”
“No, um…”
The strength in the arms hugging him was considerable. Thanks to her enhanced strength from Bijou, Ereta clung tightly to Aslan, altering the shape of her bosom pressing against his chest.
“No, hold on. Can you let go for a second? I need to say something…”
“I won’t! I’ll never let go again…”
I can’t even ask a question. Aslan thought while patting Ereta’s back. Well, if she thought he’d died and come back, her reaction was understandable. Even Aslan himself wouldn’t have spared his brain if Ereta had seemed about to die.
It didn’t sit right to forbid others from doing what he himself would do. After pondering briefly, Aslan sighed.
Ultimately, he had no choice but to take a firm approach.
Grasping Ereta’s cheeks and pulling her away, Aslan watched as she snapped back to reality.
Breaking the embrace, Aslan met Ereta’s eyes. Almost forehead-to-forehead, he held her small face and gazed steadily.
“Ahh…”
Unable to look away, Ereta met Aslan’s gaze, her ears turning red with embarrassment.
Until now, Ereta had been overjoyed by Aslan’s awakening, but now her excitement took a different turn.
As their eyes met, their lips drew close, and with a premonition of something good about to happen, Ereta closed her eyes. Watching her, Aslan spoke.
“Ereta.”
“Yes, yes.”
Ereta opened her eyes. Her pink irises showed clear signs of excitement and arousal. Seeing this, Aslan gave a bitter smile, feeling apologetic for dashing her hopes.
“Did I… drink dragon’s blood by any chance?”
Ereta blinked at the question, a slight hint of disappointment crossing her face before she replied.
“Yes…”
Despite the simple affirmative answer, Aslan sighed deeply. His expression fell, revealing his perplexity as he released Ereta’s cheeks. She watched as Aslan rubbed his temples and sat back on the bed.
“You mean… I drank it?”
Checking her expression, Ereta nodded slightly.
“Yes.”
With that answer, Aslan exhaled sharply.
“Troublesome…”
Barely suppressing a curse that reached “shi-“, Aslan grabbed his aching head. Since all this was in Korean, Ereta couldn’t understand it, only sensing something was wrong.
Dragon’s blood.
It was Belus Alphen’s national treasure, the sole item of its kind.
Had it been anything else, Aslan might not have cared much. However, the reason Aslan sighed now was due to its effect.
Dragon’s blood, capable of reviving someone on the brink of death, doubled the drinker’s health stat.
If one’s health was originally 10 points, it would become 20 with the addition.
While Aslan had considered acquiring it for later use, he never intended to consume it himself.
He planned to give it to Angie, granting her regenerative capabilities akin to Ereta’s high-priestess days, thereby significantly enhancing her combat abilities.
“My plans are off track.”
Of course, it was understandable. Considering that Ereta had fed it to Aslan based on his condition before losing consciousness, giving it to him was the right choice. Without it, his injuries would have been fatal.
The problem was that Aslan regretted using it on himself.
To newcomers encountering Geleridion through the game, wasting it on someone with only 1 health point resulting in merely 2 points afterward was undoubtedly wasteful.
True, there were additional benefits.
While some of them might be useful to Aslan, given the minimal effect achieved, he couldn’t help but feel it was wasted.
Exhaling, Aslan dropped his hand from his forehead and slumped his shoulders. Ereta, hesitant, asked,
“Aslan… Are you okay? Is anywhere uncomfortable or painful? Should I call someone?”
“No, no… I’m fine.”
Since it was already consumed, there was nothing to be done. The best course was to maximize its usage. Now that his health was at 2 points, he wouldn’t need to reinforce his legs when invoking Thunder anymore, which was a positive development.
Additionally, the special benefit of dragon’s blood, known as Dragon Bloodline, offered quite practical effects. It granted high resistance to flames and a one-time critical injury prevention.
Having obtained it, Aslan’s duty was to utilize it effectively, and his characteristic was not to dwell on past regrets.
Turning his eyes to the system window, Aslan allocated his stats.
Angie had put 2 points into Agility and 1 into Strength, while Aslan poured all his points into Mana. Once this process was complete, a few lines of messages and images appeared.
[Mana 10 Achieved]
[Special Ability ‘Unique Magic’ Generated]
[Generated Unique Magic based on Acquired Magic Systems and Highest Magic Skill]
[Select Your Unique Magic]
The messages revealed unique magics that surfaced upon reaching Mana 10, exclusive to each player. They were powerful and distinct, so much so that mages or magic-swordsmen builds were said to truly begin only after choosing their unique magic.
Thus, Aslan deliberated over the list and glanced at the moist gaze directed at him.
It was Ereta.
Ereta was staring at Aslan intently. Their eyes met, and Ereta lowered her pink gaze before raising it again to meet Aslan’s.
Her wet, fiery eyes brimming with mixed emotions reminded Aslan of the Ereta from his visions.
An indeterminate number, but certainly in the thousands, she had confessed to him. A number impossible to overlook.
Aslan contemplated. The dying voice in his ear refused to fade easily.
After much deliberation, Aslan gestured to Ereta.
“Come here.”
Though it carried meaning, Ereta flinched.
“At, at will you hit me? Or…”
Ereta’s anxious expression and reluctance to approach puzzled Aslan, who tilted his head in confusion. Ultimately, Ereta relented, cautiously stepping closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, and closing her eyes.
Still too far.
Watching her, Aslan said,
“Come closer.”
Ereta trembled lightly.
Her tremor was a mix of anticipation and worry, incomprehensible to Aslan. Eventually, Ereta resigned herself to moving closer, prompting Aslan to smile faintly.
Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her close into an embrace.
“Ahh.”
Ereta’s voice, heard near his ear, was damp unlike in his visions.
Hearing it, Aslan pulled her head to rest against his chest. Gently brushing the white strands of hair from her eyes and stroking her hair, he continued.
“I understand your feelings.”
At this, the trembling ceased momentarily before resuming.
“But… For now, please bear with this.”
Does he really understand? Ereta thought as she attempted to lift her head but couldn’t due to Aslan’s gentle voice. No, it wasn’t the voice.
“I need time too. There are circumstances.”
Usually, Ereta initiated the embrace, but now Aslan embraced her first. This fact made Ereta’s heart race wildly, preventing any coherent thoughts. Trying to quiet her pounding heart, Ereta took a breath, though it ended up sounding ragged.
“Can you understand?”
Released from the embrace, Ereta looked at Aslan with a flushed face before covering it with her hands.
“Neh…”
“Thank you.”
Aslan’s soft smile. Unable to meet it directly, Ereta simply squeezed her eyes shut, barely managing to breathe as her heart felt like it would leap out of her mouth.
Listening to Ereta’s labored breathing, Aslan turned his head just as distant running footsteps approached.
Recognizing them, Aslan exhaled softly and said,
“It seems they’ve arrived.”
The sounds belonged to a girl who was extremely impatient and highly reliant on Aslan, according to a battle veteran’s analysis.
