She was someone he hardly knew. Aslan and Anna were completely strangers to each other.
Of course, Aslan knew roughly what kind of person Anna Helmenius was—knew as much as one could from the game.
But Anna knew almost nothing about Aslan. All she knew was that he had been at the center when Beryl fell long ago and might be an ancient deity or one of its associates.
So Anna felt awkward summoning Aslan. The awkwardness was obvious to anyone who saw it, and Aslan could sense it too.
The reason was clear.
She was someone who had maintained limited human relationships for two hundred years, and the current relationship they had established was strange.
Thus, the ensuing silence was natural, and Aslan uncomfortably smiled amidst the unease.
“So… Is there something you’d like to do? It seems like whatever requires my presence involves three people.”
Aslan spoke first. Once he did, the great wizard who had lived for two hundred years nodded awkwardly.
“Yes, it’s an action requiring your presence because of your closeness with Phey. However….”
The hesitant expression of the great wizard was hard to reconcile with the fact that she had bombarded him with spells just yesterday. It was clearly unexpected behavior.
But Aslan wasn’t fazed. Since the actions of a madman are unpredictable, Aslan didn’t try to predict them but simply smiled serenely.
“Yes.”
“…I want to cook.”
“Cook?”
The great wizard nodded, and Phey’s eyes lit up at the mention of cooking—an uncharacteristic reaction for an elf girl who didn’t need to eat, drink, or rest.
“Phey approves.”
With those words, they moved on, heading toward the city market.
The market district was far richer in variety than Aslan had expected.
Contrary to the assumption that it would only have magical items, there were also quite a number of daily necessities.
Certainly, compared to a regular market, there were more magical items, reagents, and scrolls—but given the nature of the city, this was understandable.
Aslan wandered through the market holding Phey’s hand, while Anna led the way.
Despite her plain attire, Anna was a well-known figure in the city, so Aslan thought she would attract a lot of attention. But surprisingly, there weren’t many stares.
Aslan found the cause in the magic Anna had used.
A powerful illusion spell cast by a highly skilled veteran magician obscured recognition of the woman’s face.
Too potent to have been cast by someone mentally unstable, Aslan contemplated the potential behind it while moving forward. Meanwhile, Anna occasionally smiled as she observed the pair.
If her daughter had been alive, she might have been like them. Though it was an event that never actually occurred, Anna overlaid the vague memory of her family onto the sight of Aslan and Phey, finding some satisfaction.
Thus, the gentle smile on Anna’s face seemed to carry a hint of unease. Phey noticed this, approached her, and gently took Aslan along.
“Anna is Phey’s mom today, so let’s hold hands tightly.”
The approaching elf girl extended her free hand, and Anna, who had been lost in her memories, widened her eyes in surprise.
For a moment, Anna seemed flustered before extending her hand to take it.
Phey’s hand was softer yet cooler than Anna had imagined, and perhaps due to that chill, Anna quickly regained her composure and smiled warmly.
“Thank you, little one.”
Afterward, Aslan, Anna, and Phey reached their destination—a shop selling food ingredients.
“Is there anything you can’t eat?”
At the shop, Anna asked, and Aslan shook his head since he lacked taste buds altogether.
“Phey eats everything well.”
Given that elves don’t need to eat, Phey responded briefly. Anna relaxed upon hearing this and smiled softly.
“In that case… Would you mind if I prepare the dish I want to cook?”
“Yes, please go ahead.”
As Anna left to prepare, Aslan signaled Phey to help her. Fortunately, Phey understood the gesture and trotted over to Anna, cradling the groceries she had purchased while chatting animatedly.
Anna watched Phey, who looked like a child chattering away, and her face lit up with joy.
Aslan observed her and momentarily felt a pang of sorrow before suppressing it and heading towards a store selling several magic scrolls after some consideration.
When Aslan finally bought a few scrolls and tucked them into his arms, the woman approached.
“Accelerated equalization, a few mutation school spells… What do you plan to use them for?”
Having finished purchasing the ingredients, the woman carrying a hefty load approached Aslan.
Aslan tried not to appear surprised by her question and replied.
“It’s nothing special. Just for personal use.”
“Personal use…”
The woman blinked while holding her bundle and added,
“If you’re planning experiments, you can borrow my lab. I haven’t used it in quite a while.”
“That’s…”
Aslan was about to decline but then seemed to recall something, closed his mouth, and bowed slightly.
“I appreciate your kindness.”
It was evident that he was hiding something. Just as Anna was about to ask, Aslan quickly interjected.
“May I inquire what dish you plan to cook? I don’t have any restrictions, but I do have preferences.”
Though it was a lie, Anna had no means to detect falsehoods. Instead, she smiled contentedly, either pleased that someone showed interest in her cooking or satisfied by the domestic scenario unfolding.
“Northern Empire-style lamb stew, Alpine root vegetable steam, and grilled fish.”
It was an overly homely selection of dishes. Recalling them made Anna smile brightly.
“Something I’ve always wanted to try… It’s modest, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Her seemingly casual words carried a faint trace of sadness. Aslan quietly closed his mouth and smiled gently.
“I’m looking forward to it. Phey will like it too.”
Hearing this response, Anna smiled back.
*
Frost swirled, and with the cool air came a handful of icy particles drifting around.
What initially seemed poetic transformed into a fantastical atmosphere with the addition of certain elements.
The countless droplets floating in the midst of these swirling ice particles were the main actors.
Like a photograph frozen in time, hundreds of thousands of droplets suspended mid-fall reflected the sunlight, proving that this space was once an ocean.
If a man known as the Priest Slaughterer had been present, he would have undoubtedly declared:
This space was the Veil of Mercy, where her body briefly descended.
A fragment of the universe that perished due to her existence.
However, Aslan was absent, and thus those gathered here regarded the phenomenon not as cosmic death but as a gospel.
Among them, one human stood out.
No older than seventeen or eighteen, the girl had long limbs that gave her a good proportion, but her excessively pale skin evoked a feeling beyond mere illness—it induced outright rejection.
The girl was dressed extraordinarily lightly, especially considering the cold that heralded cosmic death.
Her feet were bare, clad in no shoes, and her clothing was minimal.
The thin cloth draped over her shoulders barely served its function, revealing glimpses of her skin underneath. Her nearly nude appearance was met with a calm expression as she casually held a long spear.
Already extraordinary, the girl radiated an overwhelming presence among the prostrate worshippers, bearing some form of proof.
Unlike ordinary humans—or even priests—she possessed something akin to radiant light.
Stretching from behind her back to above her head, this circular aura eroded its surroundings. Moving with her every motion, it scattered a cold death wherever it touched.
And this radiant light was no ordinary glow.
It was a trace of frozen spacetime, a distortion marking the universe’s flaws.
A symbol of death, representing the universe’s demise.
Such was the embodiment of universal death standing there.
The High Priest of the Veil of Mercy.
The girl soon spoke.
“Lord, was it necessary to activate ‘Sacrifice’ here?”
“I-I apologize! My haste…!”
“Tsk. I’m not angry.”
To the immediate apology, the girl smiled gently, placing her index finger over her lips.
The finger resting on her pale lips was colder still, white as frost, and her voice carried ease and benevolence.
The priest involuntarily looked up at her kindly face, her ash-colored hair flowing freely, tinged with lavender at the ends. The priest’s lips twitched upward.
Was it forgiveness?
Just as the priest thought so, the girl’s other hand vanished momentarily before the priest’s head exploded, leaving only the jawbone.
Thud!
Thus, one priest died. The prostrated priests trembled more deeply, and some even wet themselves.
The girl observed them for a while before smiling faintly.
“It’s merely disappointment at how useless you all are.”
The spear she swept aside was pristine, devoid of even a speck of dust. The girl stroked the immaculate blade with her fingertip and spoke.
“The Lord Himself deigned to descend, yet you failed to guide events as He wished and allowed His footsteps to be avoided by the leeches of time. I consider this a complete failure. What say you?”
There was no answer. The struggle of those who understood they would die if they responded was palpable. The girl gazed silently at them, turned her head, and looked toward the coastline where the continent met the sea.
The divine power she sensed emanating from the coast appeared to her as leeches.
The girl pondered while sensing the presence of these leeches.
Sending these useless ones would be meaningless.
Wouldn’t it be better if I, the Lord’s right hand, took on the arduous tasks myself and assigned simpler ones to cattle?
Her contemplation was reasonable, and the girl soon reached a conclusion.
Amidst the trembling priests, she sighed deeply and began to speak.
“Since I know you cannot handle even the simple task of dealing with the leeches, I’ll assign you an even simpler one. Please do not fail this time.”
Or else I will be greatly disappointed. At the added remark, the priests shivered again. The girl nudged the kneeling priests with her toe.
As the priests lifted their heads, the girl stretched out her leg toward the city.
Though it might stir lascivious desires, the men prostrated before her looked at her toes with fear instead. The girl smiled easily despite their gaze.
“Go. Run.”
As the men struggled to rise, the girl added with a grin.
“You die if you walk or stop.”
Only then did the priests start running. Terrified and stumbling, these powerful priests who froze space-time itself headed toward the wizards’ city.
Each step they took froze the sea beneath them, turning it into a platform, and each breath they exhaled left trails of thick mist.
The girl watched these priests disdainfully for a while before turning away.
Step by step.
Wherever the girl’s foot touched, pure death blossomed, and she hummed a tune.
On her path were thirty priests of the Immovable One, all about to die.
