Phey and Ereta wore worried expressions. The difference was that Phey was entirely focused on the worry, whereas Ereta was also deep in thought despite her concern.
Chin resting on hand, arms crossed, eyes closed in deep contemplation—this naturally settled behind the look of worry.
Tiamat’s reaction wasn’t much different from those two. Perhaps interpreting Aslan’s mention of the afterlife differently, Tiamat scratched at the scales on their jaw while letting out a sigh.
Angie observed the group’s demeanor, blinking her eyes a couple of times. Why were they acting this way? The question that arose in the girl’s mind soon turned into words directed toward Aslan.
“So? What are we supposed to do when we get to the afterlife? What’s the plan?”
A natural question. Since Aslan had said they needed to go to the afterlife, it was only logical for this follow-up inquiry to arise. However, upon seeing such a straightforward question from the girl, Tiamat shook their head.
“Kid, what Angie just said means there’s no way out, so we’re screwed. You go to the afterlife when you die, right? That’s what Aslan was trying to say in a roundabout way.”
Upon hearing this explanation from Tiamat, Angie looked at Aslan with a blank expression before exclaiming softly.
“Oh, is that what you meant?”
Meanwhile, Aslan seemed to wonder if that was indeed what they had intended to convey, widening their eyes in surprise.
“No, I really did mean we have to go to the afterlife. Is that what everyone thinks?”
At this, Tiamat’s expression shifted from one of sympathy toward a colleague struggling to come up with a solution to something akin to “This kid has lost it.”
Tsk tsk, the sound of disapproval carried a heavy sense of regret. Even if there were no solutions, it wasn’t necessary to spout such nonsense, was it?
“Aslan… are you feeling alright? We didn’t realize…”
“It’s fine; Phey still loves you even if you’ve changed.”
Ereta, perhaps showing her own concern, softened her gaze and said gently, while Phey, seizing the moment, spread their arms and added, “How about a hug?”
Not needing someone’s embrace, Aslan shook their head and gave a bitter smile. It felt somewhat unjust. To suggest traveling through the afterlife in a world filled with evil deities and magic, only to be told it was strange.
But on the other hand, this reaction was understandable.
For sorrow and death had long since faded, and the afterlife was more like an abandoned soul-processing facility. There was little public knowledge about the afterlife, but it was certainly something people avoided. Among them, perhaps only Boren, who lacked fear, might know its location or workings.
Thus, the afterlife was a taboo—a forbidden place.
Aslan understood their companions’ reactions. Only Angie, lacking the same erudition, failed to grasp Aslan’s meaning, while the rest fully understood.
“But this is the only way.”
Aslan was certain. The only method to cross over to the city of wizards now was the fast travel system known in games.
Though unusual by Geladridion standards, it wasn’t strange at all by Aslan’s. Recalling the details of the process in their mind, Aslan pondered how to explain it, then slowly curved their lips into a gentle smile.
No matter how much they explained, it would likely be meaningless without credibility. Showing rather than telling would be best.
The gazes of their companions, always inclined toward the correct choice when directed at Aslan, were now filled with doubt and curiosity. Understanding this, Aslan spoke.
“Come along. We need to find a quiet place.”
*
In the game Eternal Dominion, set against the backdrop of Geladridion, fast travel existed.
However, unlike in other games where it could be used haphazardly, fast travel in Eternal Dominion worked differently.
It was a feature unlocked after crossing to the southern continent, hunting ancient deities, and completing trials at the Temple of Prosperity during the mid-to-late stages of the game.
Primarily, it was used to move between regions, traveling from the southern to the northern continent. It wasn’t a system to pinpoint specific locations but rather one that facilitated movement between temples.
But given that Geladridion had become Aslan’s reality and Eternal Dominion their quest, the function couldn’t possibly remain the same. Just as precognition had evolved from merely adding modifiers to actions into a skill capable of simulating the future.
Recalling the detailed settings for fast travel at the cemetery, Aslan mused.
The technique of surpassing space using the power of the ancient gods, the domain of sorrow and death known as the afterlife.
Ordinarily, acquiring the divine essence of hunting and prosperity would grant the necessary knowledge to use this ability, but Aslan already possessed all the knowledge required within their mind.
Knowledge was present; what remained was materials. With the protagonist wielding the power of the ancient gods and the purity imbued with their strength, Aslan recalled the sigils needed to open the gates of the afterlife while walking through the cemetery.
The issue lay in the process of fast travel itself.
Having finished his thoughts, Aslan stopped in front of an uninhabited rock. Their companions followed without any signs of alertness.
“To think I’d be opening the gate to the afterlife in a cemetery.”
There was no response to Aslan’s muttering. A cool breeze from the night sea swept past, chilling the air. Tiamat yawned widely, perhaps feeling cold and sleepy.
Had this been a world with necromancy, zombies, or undead, the group wouldn’t have been so relaxed. But Geladridion lacked necromancy.
Aslan thought that if even one person from the same world had been present, they might have remarked on the absurdity of performing rituals at a grave.
“…What are you doing? Writing letters? Need help?”
“No, it’s fine. This sword needs to be used.”
“Is that so? Well, good luck… This old one will take shelter from the wind.”
As Tiamat moved away, Aslan carefully carved the runes.
The characters etched with the blade of purity were ancient imperial script, the precursor to the written language created by the war and knowledge deity after the ancient gods had forged the world. These symbols, imbued with immense power, could only be wielded by the ancient gods themselves.
And because the modern language derived from the ancient gods’ script, some of the characters were familiar to the group watching idly as Aslan worked, despite most being obsolete.
While densely carving the runes, Aslan glanced at the white flames flowing from the purity.
Both inscribing the characters and infusing them with power would rely on the purity, which retained a strong remnant of the ancient gods’ strength. If the process failed to open the gates of the afterlife, there’d be no choice but to ask the clueless Angie to somehow channel the power of the ancient gods.
Aslan spent a long time carving the runes, and the group grew weary watching the tedious process. Some slumped on the ground, leaned against trees, sat on the shoulders of a giant leaning against a tree, or simply found spots nearby to sit.
When Tiamat’s expression finally soured from Phey’s restless foot tapping against their chest, Aslan had finally finished inscribing all the characters.
A massive circle composed of 48 characters. Aslan stared at it for a moment before embedding the purity at its center.
The sword pierced the rock as though cutting through empty air, causing the surface to ripple. The ripples gradually spread and dispersed, leaving no fragments of stone—only countless crystalline pathways resembling shattered amethysts.
These pathways extended inward deeper than the surface area of the rock allowed, yet revealed no traces of the outside world within.
After withdrawing the purity, Aslan gazed silently at the portal, while the group approached with confusion, astonishment, and intrigue painted across their faces.
“It works.”
With an awkward laugh, Aslan returned the extinguished purity to their waist, sharing the same surprise as their companions. Given that fast travel in games was typically limited to temple-to-temple movement, the possibility of failure had seemed quite real.
“Let’s go inside.”
The elongated passage emitted an ominous glow. Leading their companions, who either appeared uneasy, expressionless, or intrigued, Aslan stepped into the gateway to the afterlife.
As if tearing through a water-filled membrane with their foot, Aslan entered the afterlife.
The afterlife was unique.
Violet mist filled the skies, which resembled cracked amethyst with fractured surfaces.
The ground stretched endlessly, composed of deep violet hexagons.
Amidst these, shadowy buildings dotted the landscape, recognizable enough that even the nearsighted Tiamat could identify them as structures from the city of Hatun they had left moments ago.
Streams of liquid flowed smoothly across the surface of this shadowy city, despite the absence of elevation—an intriguing sight.
Seeing the water, Tiamat attempted to mask their unease.
“Even here, water flows. Our water supply must be…”
“That’s not water. It’s souls.”
Just as Tiamat was about to fill his empty leather flask, Aslan’s clarification startled him, eliciting a sharp “Ugh!”
His scales bristled in response to the sudden chill, detecting countless movements around them.
All these movements were streams of water. Countless streams carrying innumerable souls, too many to count. Tiamal grimaced and stammered.
“G, great…”
The expression behind his grimace asked, “How does this kid know all this?”
Their discomfort was evident. Tiamat voiced it openly.
“So, now that we’re here in the afterlife, what do we do next? I’d prefer to leave quickly.”
The prickling sensation running along his scales suggested he wasn’t the only one affected. Phey clamped a hand over their mouth, wrinkling their brow.
Unlike Angie, who marveled at the surroundings and reached out to touch the flowing souls before retracting her hand, or Ereta, who curiously examined everything, both Tiamat and Phey wanted nothing more than to flee immediately.
Something invisible filled the space, watching them intently.
“They’re watching us. There are… too many. Can’t Kitten and Ereta sense them? So many, and they don’t notice?”
A number of gazes so overwhelming that even someone immune to motion sickness would feel queasy. Every inch of space visible to Tiamat’s senses was saturated with these watching eyes, clinging to the group.
Through the rising nausea, Tiamat spoke.
“Since it was hard to get in, let’s hope getting out is easier. Let’s hurry; I’m feeling sick.”
Still, Tiamat chose not to share the information they had deduced, unwilling to cause unnecessary panic among the group. Instead, they masked their feelings with vague remarks, prompting Aslan to glance at them briefly before responding with an apologetic smile.
“Getting in was relatively easy compared to getting out. Sorry, but we’ll need your patience for a bit longer.”
Tiamat’s face contorted further, and Phey looked ready to vomit, but Aslan had no other options. Though their intuition reacted sharply, they could only ask for patience. For to leave the afterlife, they needed a guide: someone close to them yet possessing a resilient soul unyielding to the afterlife’s influence.
In the game, naming the destination to the summoned guide completed the fast travel.
The problem was the scarcity of deceased individuals who were both close to Aslan and possessed such a resilient soul.
If this were a game, calling a fallen comrade or an NPC destined to die in a main quest would suffice, but in the middle stages of the main quest, there were no guaranteed fatalities among NPCs.
Thus, Aslan had only one name to call.
Fortunately, forgetting that name was impossible. Recalling it brought a throbbing ache to their chest, churned their stomach, and evoked a faint sense of longing.
Taking a deep breath, Aslan raised their head and called out.
“Come forth now. You can see we’re not priests.”
To Aslan’s words, a form gradually materialized.
It was an existence cloaked in a massive sheet-like shadow, resembling something entirely non-human. More like a colossal shadowy snail than a human. The only hint of humanity was two thin, frail hands.
The overseer of the afterlife.
When this embodiment of the self-aware realm of sorrow and death turned its gaze on Aslan, Aslan glared back and shouted.
“I shall summon a guide to lead us!”
The overseer showed no reaction, but Aslan proceeded to utter the name that caused their chest to ache each time they called it.
“The guide I summon is Lewena, my wife Lewena!”
Silence followed.
The shout that had filled the vast expanse dissipated without a trace, leaving only the silence of the dead in its wake.
Aslan realized something was wrong. Normally, upon being summoned, the soul should appear instantly, looking exactly as they did in life.
But nothing came. Aslan struggled to steady their labored breathing, trying to ignore the growing unease.
Despite the name having been called, no presence emerged, and eventually, the overseer tilted what might be its head slightly.
“The living cannot summon.”
The voice resonated directly in Aslan’s mind. Upon hearing it, Aslan’s eyes widened.
Staring blankly, Aslan fixated on the overseer. Various emotions swirled in their vacant expression.
Confusion mingled with fear. Opening their mouth to speak, Aslan hesitated, unable to find words.
Unable to comprehend the claim that the woman whose throat they had severed was alive, Aslan remained speechless.
