The sword in Aslan’s hand changed.
The transformation was not dramatic. It simply appeared there, as if following some natural law.
The sword that emerged had a blade glowing with platinum light.
It looked as though it was forged from burning white flames or tempered with them, emanating a white aura. The blade seemed inscribed densely with patterns or letters.
But upon closer inspection, one could see that these were not letters or patterns but the flames themselves.
Beyond the light of the seemingly unsubstantial blade lay something resembling a halo, embodying the non-existent weight of the blade.
It appeared to be present yet composed only of light. Such was the Sword of Purity, formed from the essence of fire.
Thus, when the commoners and dragon knights saw this sword, it felt to them like something out of a fantasy.
It felt unreal, non-corporeal.
But the sword was undoubtedly there.
“O great flame…”
Only one being could craft such a sword: the deity of fire and metallurgy. The dragon knights, holding their weapons, dropped them one by one, expressing their awe through words and exclamations.
They were dragon knights.
Whenever a trial by duel took place, they were always present, either watching or hearing tales about it.
Since they were Clow, they held deep respect for the Dragon King, and with that respect came feelings of betrayal and gratitude.
They weren’t particularly close to the commoners; they merely happened to be stationed at the entrance of the tail district, reacting sensitively due to the large number of priests appearing.
Before them now stood Purity. They saw clear evidence of the choice made by the ancient deity and deeply trusted Aslan because of it.
On the other hand, the commoners were ignorant.
Though they knew the sword before them was special, they did not understand why or its significance.
Their ignorance made them sensitive to the reactions of the noble dragon knights.
Surely, they thought, this sword must have been sent by an ancient deity.
To anyone who saw it, it was a masterpiece of the divine. Thus, they focused on Aslan’s next words.
“This is the sword given to me by the ancient deity, the deity of fire and metallurgy. When the Dragon King, who had deceived the city, fell and I, his champion, faced execution, this sword was bestowed.”
Amidst the silence, Aslan subtly grasped the sword of purity, its radiant holy presence illuminating the dimming watchtower.
“This sword cuts only those who harbor enmity or doubt towards priests or the ancient deities. It does not harm those who do not.”
In reality, this wasn’t entirely true. Divine rank was not like a convenient bread knife, and Aslan knew he could cut anything with it.
But Aslan understood well: deception is one of the most useful tools in combat.
He was skilled at it.
Aslan’s gaze turned to Angie, who blinked.
“I will cut Angie now. If she is not cut, then Angie is not a priest.”
Before people could fully process his words, Aslan firmly gripped the purity and turned toward Angie.
Only Angie and the commander of the warrior corps, Karl, saw his face.
He was smiling faintly, as if to instill belief.
Angie raised her arm without hesitation, moving it aside to make cutting her torso easier.
Whether his words were true or not didn’t matter to the girl. All she thought was that Aslan was important to her, and he likely felt the same.
With that understanding alone, faith or dispute became irrelevant.
Thus, without exchanging a word, Aslan and Angie moved after meeting each other’s eyes.
Late into the action, Angie noticed the blade of Aslan’s sword had turned black.
“Knight Slayer.”
The sound of the blade tearing through the air. Beyond the streaks of light flowing along the rushing blade, the seemingly non-existent blade turned black.
Its target was Angie’s waist. But it didn’t truly cut. Aslan’s excellent swordsmanship guided the blade to pass through her skin.
“Knight Slayer.”
And once again, he used the special skill. If he used Knight Slayer just once, it would merely sever Angie’s intestines and spine. What was needed was complete passage—a deception that Angie hadn’t been cut.
The swift movement of the blade, almost imperceptible even to Aslan’s perception, led him to instinctively mutter as soon as he realized the Knight Slayer had disappeared after passing through the spine.
“Knight Slayer.”
After using it three times in total, the purity finally exited Angie’s body without touching any internal organs.
For Angie, who somewhat understood how Knight Slayer worked, it was a precarious act, but she didn’t care, slightly calming her elevated breathing.
As soon as the purity passed through Angie’s body, Aslan withdrew it and placed it on his shoulder.
To the unknowing commoners and dragon knights, it truly seemed as though the blade had passed through Angie’s waist and exited cleanly.
A mixture of suppressed shock, silence, and admiration disturbed the crowd, prompting Aslan to turn around to face them without showing any tension.
His confident demeanor, Angie’s unwavering actions—both convinced the commoners and dragon knights that Angie was not a priest.
Just as everyone marveled at the proven innocence through false testimony,
“Wait!”
Gail, hidden among the crowd, suddenly shouted.
As all eyes turned to him, Gail glanced around at others’ expressions.
“Is that sword really the deity’s? Isn’t it just a fake that looks impressive? Frankly, couldn’t you be the priest? Aren’t you just pulling off a fancy scam to cover for your fellow citizens?”
Gail’s abrupt speech caused Aslan to look at him steadily before approaching.
As Aslan approached, the crowd parted. Some feared they might get hurt if they touched the sword, while others stepped aside to let Aslan pass.
With several meanings, the divided crowd left Gail standing alone as Aslan extended the purity toward him.
“Eh, eh, wait, wait!”
This time, Aslan wouldn’t cut. He merely placed the purity against Gail’s palm, and Gail, feeling the sensation of splitting skin and intense pain, quickly retracted his hand as if burned.
“Ahhh!”
Blood dripped profusely from the split palm, and Gail stared at Aslan with confusion.
Aslan opened his mouth with the same expressionless face he had while walking over.
“Did you see that? This happened because of your lack of faith. If you had sufficient belief in the ancient deity, you wouldn’t have been cut. If you wish, I can test others as well.”
Some dragon knights were eager to step forward, but Gail remained silent, clutching his hand tightly shut.
Aslan observed the man’s form silently before speaking.
“Angie is a being chosen by the ancient deity, a powerful entity inheriting the will and divinity of the deity, just like me, fighting for the deity.”
With a calm explanation, as the divided crowd looked at Aslan, he planted the purity into the ground and continued.
“But Gail, you mocked and accused Angie, who is also your daughter, of being a priest. You pressured Angie by inciting the crowd recklessly and tried to deceive the noble and proud dragon knights. Your sin is grave.”
“Gomul Clo! What punishment befalls someone who falsely accuses an innocent person to satisfy personal desires?”
At Aslan’s call, a dragon knight flinched.
“Yes sir!”
The dragon knight named Gomul Clo, with green scales, glanced briefly at Gail with a contemptuous expression before answering.
“…Tongue removal.”
“So be it.”
Realizing the situation, Gail turned pale.
Fearing the impending punishment, he gritted his teeth, trying hard not to tremble. His appearance was pitiful.
Especially to Angie, it felt that way.
Angie had always feared her father.
When Gail smashed her mother’s head, she wasn’t just scared but utterly terrified, and whenever Gail swung his fists at her, she submitted.
Back then, Gail seemed so big and terrifying.
Now, this father who couldn’t argue back or resist Aslan in any way, appeared as nothing more than a small existence. In Angie’s words, a ‘rice cake.’
“…Let’s not cut out the tongue.”
So Angie spoke.
It was compassion.
He was a character who wouldn’t cause any harm even if left alone, and forgetting him wouldn’t bring any trouble.
All Angie felt was a slight embarrassment at having ever feared such a person.
She closed her mouth and looked at Aslan, who paused for a moment before finally speaking.
“Mr. Gail, in response to Angie’s plea… your punishment will be reduced. Instead, you’ll serve a month-long detention.”
There was no trace of mercy in his calm expression.
Angie was surprised that he readily accepted her request, and Gail, relieved yet amazed at how lightly his punishment was reduced, sighed.
Since even the dragon knights didn’t object, Gail cautiously glanced around before exhaling a sigh of relief.
A month of detention wasn’t bad. At least it seemed that way at first glance. Thinking about what to do after getting out, Gail closed his eyes, only to reopen them due to a sudden sense of unease.
Something felt off.
Looking at Aslan’s face to uncover the source of this discomfort, Gail widened his eyes and opened his mouth.
Aslan was smiling faintly.
Satisfaction flowed strongly from that smile.
His expression was akin to a hunter gazing at a trapped young deer.
That’s when Gail realized the situation.
A month.
Certainly not a short time.
More than enough for a headless organization to collapse.
During Gail’s absence of a month, the Tail Warriors could easily take control of the slums.
Even if not full control, eliminating Gail’s organization would be effortless.
Within the tail district, unless a priest was involved, matters often fizzled out without much consequence.
Clearly visible here with various forces of the slums gathered, Gail’s faction was the strongest power in the slums.
And Gail maintained it by keeping his organization perfectly under control.
Gail didn’t think his absence would be overlooked.
That was Aslan’s goal.
Gail was shocked realizing all of this.
If he were captured now, by the time he was released, Gail would merely be a vagrant, stripped of all influence and power.
Realizing this, Gail tried to shout.
Incitement, insults, curses, submission—everything he could think of—but he couldn’t.
The turquoise eyes looking down at Gail. The coldness in those piercing eyes struck him with severity.
Gail realized, looking at those eyes, that the being before him operated on a different level altogether.
Pressed down by that realization, Gail involuntarily swallowed his pride and quietly spat.
“Gomul Clo, take him away.”
“Yes sir!”
Gail, subdued, stared blankly at Aslan as the dragon knights grabbed his arms and led him away. Gail’s dragged figure was pitiful.
“Hold on.”
Before Gail was dragged completely out of the tail district, Angie stopped the dragon knights.
Without hesitation, Angie approached the dragon knights, who halted immediately recognizing her as Aslan’s companion.
As Gail, who had been dragged along the floor, sat up and looked up, Angie stopped in front of him.
“We may not be on terms to open up or forgive, but I understand my father’s thoughts.”
Gail frowned as Angie smiled faintly.
“Well, if someone suddenly appeared with monstrous strength and changed drastically, I’d probably suspect them of being a priest too. That’s natural. If you had genuinely believed I was a priest and tried to capture and kill me, I would have let it go.”
Then Angie stared directly into her father’s frowning eyes, unyielding despite his clenched teeth. Due to her crouching posture, their eye levels were nearly equal.
“But I know you well. My father Gail isn’t that kind of person.”
Dryly spoken words from Angie. Gail silently looked at Angie before speaking.
“You… are you really Angie?”
The Angie Gail knew wasn’t like this.
The Angie Gail knew was rough, distrusting of people, reckless, and impatient—someone incapable of doing such things.
She was naive and lacked composure.
But the girl before him now, though not necessarily achieving everything herself, was confident and composed.
She wasn’t the girl who would cringe and cry every time Gail raised his fist.
Gail couldn’t comprehend any of it.
Confused by Gail’s genuine puzzlement, the girl didn’t respond.
She just smirked and rose gracefully, similar to how Aslan would.
As the dragon knights resumed dragging Gail away, Gail helplessly looked back at Angie.
Angie walked towards Aslan, leaving the entire scene behind.
Her approach was like that of a puppy seeking approval.
Proud and confident, Aslan smiled slightly, causing Angie to beam happily.
*
The spacious corridor stretched endlessly, sharply blending the wild and highly advanced metallurgical techniques.
The girl’s eyes, like droplets falling from an anvil, shone blue amidst the gray steel corridor.
The expectation reflected in her eyes was so strong that those following her dared not say a word despite her quick pace.
Even without such expectations, they were unable to speak.
Considering her identity as the ruler of the empire with the largest size in the northern continent, it was understandable.
While hoping she would slow down just a little, they hurried to keep up with her brisk steps.
The girl’s name was Ilyena.
Ilyena of Ma’Kel.
She was the ruler of the Calus Empire and a distinguished guest visiting Belus Alphen for the peace treaty.
With the peace treaty successfully concluded and the meaningless civil war coming to an end, nothing could stand in her way.
When the trailing dragon knights began to feel troubled, the girl finally stopped, having found her target.
Far down the corridor, she spotted a woman walking towards her.
A striking woman with blonde hair, a missing eye, and tattoos covering her head and body.
Despite the cloth wrapped around her body, her muscular physique was impressively noticeable.
Seeing the expectant face of the young empress, the woman wore a perplexed expression.
The woman’s name was Frida.
She was Aslan’s sister.
Frida attempted to greet the approaching young empress but stopped when the empress started speaking immediately.
The mix of greetings and requests confused Frida, seasoned by countless battles, and she managed to give brief instructions to the excited young empress.
Thus, the young empress’s expectations were dashed.
“…You mean Mr. Aslan has already departed?”
“That’s right.”
Ilyena openly showed her disappointment.
Her drooping lips and downward gaze clearly conveyed her discontent.
Frida, seeing her dejected form, was unsure whether to console her or leave her be, ultimately staying until the young empress spoke again.
Driven by determination to at least find out the destination, Ilyena spoke, and Frida responded reluctantly, hiding her awkwardness.
“Did he mention where he was going?”
“He’s heading to the wizards’ city.”
A straightforward answer.
Ilyena’s eyes widened at the response.
Her surprise stemmed from the destination itself.
The wizards’ city was such a place.
A powerful city that asserted its independence despite being adjacent to the emperor’s direct territory.
One of the few functioning city-states in the northern continent.
Above all, a city predominantly inhabited by wizards.
Ilyena wondered why Aslan went to that city and what purpose drove him there.
Unfortunately, Frida didn’t know the answers, leaving Ilyena to walk away in deep disappointment.
