The city where the roar echoes. The deafening sound accompanying the blossoming of death instilled an indescribable perplexity and fear into the heart of its master.
Anna suffered from a dizzying sensation along with relentless migraines. With her temples incessantly pressed by the flow of blood, the woman swallowed hard as she followed someone’s back.
The owner of that back was small—small enough to be called a girl.
In this cacophony, the girl who should have been powerless, cowering in fear or hoping to survive by lying prostrate, walked boldly.
The only proof that the girl was a warrior were the two short swords gently swaying behind her back.
This made the woman unbearably anxious.
The nearly 200 years of loss that had torn at her heart and mind made the woman want to cry silently as she looked at the girl.
Could this girl really fight?
Why would she fight if she might get hurt?
What if she injures her arm, leg, eyes, or even suffers a fatal head injury—why would she fight then?
The rising worry turned into bitter saliva that tickled her mouth, and the woman heaved lightly between the urge to vomit and overwhelming unease.
Even the mere assumption that this girl might die in battle drove the woman to her mental limit.
The thought of losing someone again plunged the woman into despair.
Of course, Anna Helmenius knew this girl wasn’t her daughter, and that her real daughter lay asleep within a pendant.
But the woman couldn’t discern the difference.
Unconsciously clutching the pendant, the girl glanced back at the woman before moving forward again.
Thinking about it, it was true. The woman remembered what the girl was doing the first time she saw her.
She held a dagger, aiming precisely for the woman’s carotid artery.
That familiar and practiced ambush far surpassed even skilled assassins.
Yet it didn’t make sense. How could such a small girl be a warrior? Conflicted between her knowledge and emotions, the woman stumbled forward and accidentally bumped into someone’s back.
“…Ah.”
“Is something wrong?”
At the unintentional exclamation, the man asked.
Unlike the girl leading the woman, this man radiated a strong aura of a warrior.
Despite his masculine features, his face bore deep concerns, and his green eyes complemented that solemnity. Standing tall with a sturdy build, the woman involuntarily opened her mouth but quickly closed it.
Suspicion soon appeared on her face.
“…How do you know this city so well? This is your first visit, isn’t it?”
The woman, Anna Helmenius, doubted Aslan.
Since she had been mayor for fifty years, there was no reason for this man to know the city unless he was colluding with the priests invading it.
Were they in league with the priests who sent people inside to scout the city beforehand?
If not, there was no explanation for the man’s extensive knowledge of the city.
As the woman’s green eyes shimmered with mana, Aslan silently met her gaze and smiled faintly.
And he just smiled, without answering. Aslan resumed walking, and the elven girl Phey followed him without a word. Realizing she had no other choice, the woman moved her feet as well.
There was more than just suspicion. The man seemed to have anticipated the attack by the priests.
Without any signs of panic, he led the woman and the girl somewhere.
Only now did the woman realize that the path led to her laboratory.
Aslan’s confident guidance of the way to the lab puzzled her.
If there was only suspicion, it would have been manageable. Guarding against betrayal, the woman slowly gathered mana.
She had to ask.
Even though the girl would dislike it, if betrayal occurred, she planned to subdue the situation quickly and flee with the girl.
Just as she was about to ask…
Aslan suddenly stopped, facing an open plaza with a blank expression as he gripped the hilt of his sword.
Before Anna could inquire about the reason, Aslan finally drew his sword—a unique blade resembling carved stone—and stared intently beyond the plaza with it in his left hand.
Anna eventually turned her gaze toward the plaza. Thinking it was empty, it wasn’t.
The pale sunlight split apart, revealing several shadowy figures emerging through the seemingly empty space.
They were gasping, exhausted priests.
Among them were those who had lost arms or legs, yet their unwavering determination kept them standing.
One-legged and trembling with fear, these were undoubtedly priests.
Their sudden appearance startled everyone.
With the priests stationed across the plaza, Aslan spoke.
“I know you suspect me.”
At this unexpected statement, the woman looked up at Aslan, whose back remained turned to her as he rested the sword on his shoulder.
A heavy sigh flowed between his words, and despite the lack of cold weather, his breath visibly steamed.
“The notion that my ancient deity’s prophecy isn’t safe, or that I may have conspired with an evil deity—you’re right to think that. Even if… the basis of your suspicion stems from my failure to save your daughter. It’s wise to be cautious.”
The priests slowly turned their gaze toward Aslan’s direction and began to approach. As the woman prepared to cast a spell, Aslan turned around and grabbed her hand.
He interfered with her attempt to gather mana by holding her hand.
His skillful interference in her mana flow was astonishing, leaving the woman speechless with wide eyes.
“But even if you harbor hatred and remain suspicious, it won’t stop them from coming, nor will it reverse the impending disaster.”
Aslan’s piercing green eyes caused Anna to instinctively close her mouth, and after observing her reaction, he released her hand. The priests continued to approach.
Aslan let go of the woman’s hand and faced forward again.
The approaching priests—they were terrified, but not of Aslan.
Observing the scene, Aslan idly twirled his sword with his wrist and stepped forward. His muttered words revealed something else following closely.
“The research lab has likely already been destroyed by my companion. Thus, your goal cannot be achieved through escape.”
“…What?”
The woman’s voice. Unintentionally uttering these words, Aslan glanced back briefly and responded.
“Go and see with your own eyes. Go and end it. Nothing will change if you don’t confront it.”
Though incomprehensible, the woman soon began running. Without realizing it, she sprinted toward the direction of the lab.
Her desperate figure gradually faded away, and the elven girl watched her go before glancing at Aslan.
The elven girl immediately understood Aslan’s intent. Since Aslan formed the foundation of her world, it was impossible not to understand. The girl ran after Anna, catching up swiftly while the priests and Aslan observed.
“Well…”
The priests blinked and stared at the retreating figures, bewildered, until Aslan’s voice reached them.
“Purity.”
Poof!
And upon turning to look, the priests saw Aslan wielding an unidentifiable, bizarre sword.
The blade resembled that of a greatsword, but the handle looked broken-off or unfinished, being unusually short.
The priests could feel divine power coursing through the sword.
The force of the merciful veil that corroded space. Despite the freezing energy swirling around, the blade burned fiercely through the cold.
By the time the priests recognized the man, he had already begun speaking.
“I won’t let you pass. I am…”
Before his words fully emerged, a chilling presence gripped their hearts.
A foreign sensation as if something physical squeezed their hearts filled the priests with dread. They gasped, and Aslan frowned at the growing fear on their faces.
Aslan’s qi reacted shortly after.
Like flames roaring, the reacting qi sent shivers down spines. Yet, his heart raced wildly. Instantly, Aslan raised purity in front of himself.
At the moment the priests’ mouths opened in shock and horror,
Crack!
The three priests lined up in front of Aslan exploded simultaneously.
One split vertically, separating into upper and lower halves rolling on the ground; another split horizontally, spilling intestines everywhere.
The last one was worse. Reduced to a bloody pulp, spraying flesh and bone fragments all over.
As the meaty chunks hit the ground and the bisected priests expelled their final breaths or waste, someone approached from behind.
“You were told stopping means death.”
A soft-spoken voice. That of a young woman. Aslan looked up toward the plaza’s edge upon hearing it.
A being was walking towards them.
The rippling aura consumed and eroded buildings and lifeforms it passed, leaving dents or abrasions wherever it went. The spear in its hand hadn’t shed a single drop of blood but reeked heavily of gore.
Its lavender-tipped hair and cosmic eyes marked it as clearly non-human. Upon seeing it, Aslan furrowed his brow, and his complexion stiffened when he noticed what it held.
The being carried a person—or rather, what was once a person.
It lacked a lower body, either cut off, torn away, or frozen and shattered. Its ribs ended smoothly rounded below.
Its arms were definitely torn off, showing jagged bone fragments and crushed flesh, frozen solid.
Aslan silently gazed at the pitiable remains. After a long pause, he realized it was half a torso, neck, and head of a human, barely alive.
This was some kind of artistic exercise of power.
Teeth clenched, neck tensed, goosebumps raced down his spine as muscles seemed to swell.
Seeing Aslan suppressing his anger, the being turned its gaze toward him.
“Hm? Why are you just standing there, sir?”
A leisurely tone. As if out for a casual stroll, inappropriate for someone carrying a dying human.
“Ahh, perfect timing. There’s something I’m looking for, so…”
“Why is that person in your hand?”
Unable to contain his rage, Aslan interrupted with a downward glance. At his murmured question, the woman widened her eyes and looked down at her hands.
“Oh, this one?”
The shape of the thing that mouthed “Kill me” was described simply. As if responding to an ordinary question, the woman offered a faint smile.
“My toy and guide. Anyway, what I’m looking for…”
Thud!
Deciding she’d said enough, a dagger flew and ended the human’s life. The feather-shaped dagger Aslan threw pierced the human’s head, causing the “toy and guide” to tremble lightly before dying.
Deep gratitude reflected in the fading eyes. The woman observed the dead human for a moment before raising her head.
“Ah, my toy.”
A dry tone devoid of attachment. The woman casually tossed the human behind her and looked at Aslan.
No trace of humanity lingered in the eyes that met Aslan’s gaze. Only a cosmic cruelty seemed to reside within.
The vividly glowing eyes twisted into a smirk.
“Really, today it’s nothing but rude mortals.”
With that twisted smile, the woman’s aura flared violently.
And as the aura flared, the plaza filled with the deafening roar of tearing spacetime.
