A cool breeze swept through the shattered plaza, causing Tiamat to shiver with her exhausted body.
The others were in similar conditions. Angie was breathing heavily while clutching her broken arm, and Ereta, appearing worn out, leaned against her axe and sighed deeply as if she wished the ground would swallow her up.
Among them, Aslan was in the worst state. Absentmindedly feeling the missing right arm, he moved his lips slightly.
“Let’s go back.”
Blood trickling from his eye had made his neck sticky, and dark frozen blood droplets from the torn-off arm fell onto the ground.
Even though such a person spoke indifferently, the group exchanged glances briefly before nodding at Aslan.
With Aslan, who was most injured, remaining calm, they dragged their tired and wounded bodies in the direction Aslan led.
As they walked across the collapsed and broken plaza, there were occasional traces of crushed humans.
“How terrible.”
The red-scaled dragon-person spoke, and an agreeing silence spread faintly around.
Indeed, it was a terrible sight.
Ash’s halo served both as indiscriminate attack and defense, not leaving anyone it swept up unscathed.
There were numerous scattered remains of those who had tried to intervene or pass by during the fight, and Aslan’s expression, though indifferent, carried a sense of desolation.
To the point where the blood streaming from his eyes resembled tears.
At that moment, Aslan suddenly looked up and saw someone approaching from afar.
“Aslan! You lost your arm again!”
“…Again?”
It was Anna and Phey.
Phey, seeing the familiar scene, smiled joyfully, while Anna approached with narrowed eyes at Phey’s reaction and words.
Noticing Aslan’s gaze towards their necks, Anna instinctively touched hers and gave an awkward smile.
Whether it was out of embarrassment or apology was unclear; only the green pupils faintly glowing in that bashful gaze hinted at something.
Aslan said nothing, and neither did Anna. After all, whatever they intended to say would have been interrupted by Phey stepping forward anyway.
“No arm, no eye… Perfect match with Phey!”
Phey approached Aslan, pointing at her own frozen, non-functional eye for some reason, and grinned widely.
Various emotions flickered in the girl’s smile, but the main one was a joyful sense of unity.
The rest could be defined as trust in Aslan.
Aslan, who had been injured, broken, and torn countless times in every battle so far, was likely assumed by Phey, who had fought alongside him for a year, to recover once more.
“Will the eye heal with magic?”
A casual question accompanied by a slight smile. Aslan couldn’t honestly answer.
Equalization—a magic that evenly distributes damage throughout the body. Though it has severe side effects, its effect is immediate and absolute.
It could perfectly improve any injuries caused by loss due to damage.
But Aslan knew. This vision deterioration wasn’t a loss due to damage but closer to an abnormal condition.
Clearly, it must be brain damage caused by precognition. Aslan didn’t want to reveal this vision deterioration, which couldn’t be cured without resurrection, not because it was a weakness but because he didn’t want to worry others.
Aslan forced a smile and lied.
“Yeah, it’ll heal with Equalization.”
At the mention of Equalization, a magic typically used on experimental subjects rather than humans, Anna’s expression changed. But only for a moment; quickly regaining composure, Anna spoke.
“Aslan-san.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for protecting the city. Without you, the lineage of the wizards’ city would have fallen into ruin, and I might have died too. As the master of the city, I am ashamed of my behavior during the time when I should have protected it.”
An odd behavior? What odd behavior? Angie’s voice questioned, but Aslan simply nodded, accepting Anna’s gratitude and apology.
Having no interest in exposing others’ mistakes or inappropriate behavior, Aslan then smiled faintly at Anna’s next words as she bowed her head slightly.
“Please recuperate here in the city and receive the city’s gratitude. We wish to compensate for the damages and injuries you’ve incurred from this incident.”
That statement wasn’t solely filled with gratitude.
It also contained the woman’s desire to spend more time with Phey.
Aslan observed that the woman wasn’t indulging in a futile obsession.
And it seemed Aslan wasn’t the only one to notice, as Phey pouted her lips.
“Phey wants to stay with Aslan a bit longer.”
Not the usual act of coquetry but a sincere tantrum. Aslan had no choice but to accept it.
“When you get better, let’s do that.”
“Really? It’s a promise with Phey?”
“Yeah, a promise.”
With Aslan’s clear smile, Phey beamed back, and Ereta, leaning against her axe and gasping for breath, seemingly decided she couldn’t lose and blatantly moved closer to Aslan, pressing her body against his.
Her warm breath tickled Aslan’s neck, and when Aslan turned his head, Ereta looked up at him with half-closed eyes.
“I worked hard too. Don’t I get anything?”
It wasn’t an incorrect statement. Ereta had indeed worked hard—killing several priests and fulfilling her role in the battle against Ash.
Deciding some reward was necessary, Aslan nodded.
“Alright, let’s go out together once, Ereta.”
Whether going out counted as a proper reward was debatable, but Ereta seemed satisfied as she smiled.
With two women speaking up, naturally, the next look went to Angie.
Angie, noticing the gazes of Ereta and Aslan on herself, widened her eyes momentarily before exclaiming,
“I… Since I did what I had to, I don’t need anything like that…”
“The kid’s shoes are completely ruined. In this elder’s opinion, you should come along.”
As Angie hesitated while trying to politely decline, Tiamat stepped forward.
Tiamat’s words stiffened Angie, who glanced at Tiamat for a brief moment. Tiamat smirked and shrugged at the girl’s sharp gaze.
When the sharp gazes between the dragon-person and the slum girl of the dragon-person’s city faded, the girl declared with a determined expression,
“…Yeah, I need new shoes. Look at this. They’re all torn.”
Indeed, the girl’s shoes were horribly torn, practically making her barefoot.
Seeing this attempt, Aslan smiled faintly, and Angie made a sullen face at Aslan’s smile.
“Alright, let’s go.”
With the positive reply, the girl smiled slightly, and Phey, observing her, muttered,
“You’re stupid. If your shoes keep tearing, just don’t wear them.”
“What? If I don’t wear them, my feet will get dirty.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
As other members chuckled or smirked at the confrontation between the two girls, Phey crossed her arms confidently and announced,
“You’re not a cute elf, that’s why. A cute elf doesn’t need shoes.”
Phey stood barefoot on the ground while Angie glanced at her own feet, frowning.
Anna laughed at the sight of Phey and Angie. When the group turned to her upon hearing her laughter, Anna struggled to suppress her smile and said,
“I apologize. It was just too adorable…”
But the full smile remained despite her attempt to control it. Lady Anna Helmenius was smiling.
After observing the group’s appearance for a moment, she spoke.
“You all seem tired. Wouldn’t it be better to rest first before doing anything else? I’ll arrange a place for you to rest.”
A markedly different demeanor from what had been seen earlier. Perhaps this was her true self. Thinking so, Aslan glanced at his comrades who desperately needed rest and treatment.
“I appreciate it.”
“No, I should be the one to express gratitude. Once again, thank you for fighting for the city despite my inappropriate behavior.”
The woman’s expression, freed from a 200-year obsession, appeared very peaceful.
*
After the group followed the lady to rest, Aslan left them behind and headed toward the lighthouse.
Once actively utilized, the lighthouse now lay abandoned due to the arrival of the priests and the frozen sea.
One could infer it had been used until recently due to its relatively clean state, but Aslan thought no one would come immediately.
Gazing at the darkness and starlight beyond the setting sun, and sensing some kind of energy farther away, Aslan sat still for a while.
After sitting motionless for quite some time, Aslan moved shortly afterward. He covered his left eye and looked ahead, then covered his right eye and viewed the world through his left.
Thanks to the Equalization he had used, both arms were intact, and the left eye that had been bleeding was completely healed without a scratch.
`I can’t see.`
The left eye barely saw anything.
The view was blurred, like a mirror or glass in a humid environment.
With faint colors floating and a blurry background, Aslan exhaled a shallow sigh.
“Can’t see with the eye?”
While Aslan was idly watching the dusk blending into twilight, Tiamat approached.
Appearing at an unknown time, Tiamat held an unidentified jug and watched Aslan while sipping from it. The steam rising from the jug carried a faint honey scent.
Upon hearing Tiamat’s sudden appearance and question, Aslan closed his mouth.
And that silence was sufficient response.
Tiamat scanned the surroundings with a disinterested expression before leaning on a table presumably used by the lighthouse keepers. The wooden furniture groaned under his bulky weight.
“Why did it happen? I’m nearsighted myself, so I don’t see much, but I didn’t think you injured your eyes.”
Aslan hesitated, fidgeting his lips before smiling, and Tiamat took another sip at that painful smile. The steam rising from the jug carried a faint honey aroma.
As silence lingered between them, Tiamat stared at the silent Aslan and spoke.
“This old man has been thinking about various things while traveling with you. About what you do, what you think, and your abilities.”
Tiamat leaned forward, causing the table to creak.
“Are you really human? Are you even originally from here?”
Aslan’s eyes widened briefly at the sharp question, and Tiamat leaned back, reacting somehow to that response.
“Are you some kind of divine warrior created by a deity?”
Subtly probing, Aslan hesitated for a moment before smiling faintly and shaking his head.
“At least… not from Geladridion.”
“Not from Geladridion.” Tiamat tilted the jug, rolling his golden dragon eyes over Aslan, where various assumptions raced chaotically.
“Come to think of it, the ones you’re trying to kill also came from somewhere else, right? Crossing people is probably easier than crossing deities.”
Ordinarily, one might dismiss this as nonsense or a joke out of reluctance to talk, but Tiamat accepted it lightly and placed the jug back on the table.
“So, this isn’t your land or your hometown, then?”
“…Do you believe me?”
“Well, I believe you. Considering what you’ve done, I’d be more surprised if you were from here.”
With a chuckle, Aslan scratched his cheek sheepishly, and Tiamat looked at him and said,
“When you mentioned having a wife alive in the afterlife… why did you say that?”
“…Because I killed her.”
“Hmm, is that so?”
At the muttering of killing yet having a living wife, Aslan’s complexion darkened.
From that expression, Tiamat, though not fully understanding Aslan’s character, could guess his actions.
He could also deduce what kind of person Aslan’s wife was.
There wasn’t much to imagine. It was obvious.
“So, that’s why you don’t accept… that brat or Ereta?”
“…Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
Tiamat picked up the jug again, but upon feeling the cold sea breeze atop the lighthouse, he set it down. His hand, which had been holding the jug, felt warm, so he brushed it against his scales.
“Rather than not accepting, wouldn’t pushing them away be better? Then…”
“…I’m human too.”
In response to the comment made while brushing the scales, this rare emotional reply came.
Tiamat glanced at Aslan’s bitter smile and hummed.
“I sometimes long for human warmth or kindness. I can’t ignore my feelings… or others’ feelings enough to cruelly push them away.”
Tiamat quietly contemplated this statement.
Just as the silence was about to be broken by the wind, Tiamat concluded his thoughts and spoke.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I won’t say anything more.”
With that, Tiamat rose from his seat and got closer to Aslan.
Dragon-people have poor eyesight anyway. But sometimes, you need to get close to truly see.
Looking closely, Aslan seemed to be dying from within.
Only the surface appeared scar-free.
Tiamat, recalling comforting words and dismissing them, indicated the jug on the table with a nod of his chin.
“It’s warmed liquor I received in exchange for carrying luggage earlier. If your body gets cold, you won’t recover quickly, so finish it.”
Then, as if heading down the stairs, Tiamat paused abruptly.
Realizing Aslan was looking at his back, Tiamat slightly turned his head and said,
“A presumptuous suggestion, but kid, use us more. This ragtag group of veterans won’t function without you.”
Rough words, but heartfelt. Unable to respond, Aslan watched as Tiamat flicked his tail and continued,
“Well, don’t die. Don’t overexert yourself. Use these guys better. I’m going to sleep.”
“Guys.” Clearly including himself in that term.
With that clumsy care, Tiamat descended the stairs. The cold wind blowing from the frozen sea swirled around the lighthouse.
