Rumel van Holrn. Master of the spear. As she gazed upon her, Aslan recalled her background as the daughter of the Holrn noble family and a lady in her own right.
To Aslan’s knowledge, the Holrn family had remained vital until the very end in the game.
There had been no significant issues or happenings, and there was neither a bad relationship with the priests nor a close one.
Thus, under normal circumstances, the Holrn barony should not have collapsed.
“But it did.”
That collapse had also happened recently and quite swiftly. Aslan remembered hearing about a year ago that the Holrn barony had met a terrible end after being defeated in a territorial battle against the Ira barony.
Nevertheless, at that time, he hadn’t paid much attention to it.
There had been countless such ‘differences between game and reality,’ and Aslan couldn’t find a reason to care about each one.
But now, it was different.
Rumel van Holrn was a comrade whom Aslan needed to recruit, and her situation was soon to become his as well.
In that sense, it wasn’t unusual that Rumel van Holrn was here.
The land once held by the Holrn family, Gerne, wasn’t far from Asan.
Considering that the current ruler of Gerne was the Ira barony, it would make sense for Rumel to be here seeking revenge.
Aslan glanced at the lady’s appearance and spear, recalling all that information, and inwardly nodded.
Rumel was here to take revenge against her enemy, the Ira barony.
The noble who was likely dead must have been connected to the Ira barony. It was an obvious conclusion that Rumel was the perpetrator.
And Aslan had no intention of obstructing Rumel’s revenge.
While revenge wasn’t necessarily the right thing to do, if Rumel testified that the Ira baron was a devotee of the Supreme Divinity, considering that, there was no reason to hinder her revenge.
“Rather, it might be better to help.”
Although the plan to escape the city had been delayed, there wasn’t much deviation from the original plan.
Aslan finished his thoughts and, noticing the trembling knife aimed at him by Rumel, withdrew it and returned it to his cloak.
When Rumel’s eyes widened in surprise at his decisive action of putting away the weapon, Aslan smiled as he deflected the spear tip aimed at his neck with his gauntlet.
“It’s been a while.”
A friendly greeting, a gentle tone. Seemingly startled by his calmness, Rumel blinked before she lowered her spear.
“Yes, it has been a while.”
But she had only lowered her spear; Aslan could sense an uncomfortable hesitation in Rumel’s voice.
Despite the doubt in his mind, Aslan made an effort to smile.
“It seems you’ve been doing well.”
“Yes, thanks to you. How has Lord Aslan been…?”
Rumel paused, seeming accustomed to expressing the polite greeting, but then stopped as she noticed Aslan’s left eye.
That eye was trembling slightly, and Aslan soon realized that she had caught on, which surprised him lightly.
“It seems you haven’t been doing too well. Lord Aslan.”
“…That’s correct.”
His left eye’s vision was blurry. Thus, his reactions were slower. It was a level of vulnerability that an elite fighter might not catch, yet she did.
As Aslan was taken aback by the fact he had been seen through, Rumel stared blankly, lost in thought.
Various emotions flickered in her gaze, and though no words were exchanged, the direction of the emotions shifted. Aslan tilted his head in confusion at the scene, and Rumel subconsciously reached out.
Her hand stopped just before touching Aslan.
Withdrawing her outstretched hand, she sighed.
‘What is she thinking?’
Aslan couldn’t discern her thoughts. He blinked.
Unaware of what delusion was filling Rumel’s mind, she remained quiet, and the silence, wrapped in the thick darkness of the alley, hung heavily. Unable to endure that silence, Aslan felt compelled to change the subject.
“Is your revenge going well?”
“…Ah, yes?”
“I meant your revenge. You came to this city to take revenge on the Ira barony, didn’t you?”
At his smiling inquiry, Rumel, lost in her thoughts, suddenly regained her composure and stammered.
“How did you…?”
Her voice was a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sensing her faint wariness, Aslan extended his hand.
“Just now, a mercenary you dealt with was brought to the outpost. There was a mark left by a spiral spear. That’s how I realized.”
Of course, there were other clues, but mentioning them wouldn’t help his persuasion. Even if intentionally hidden, the reasoning was sufficient, and Rumel’s reaction was immediate.
“I… I haven’t killed anyone in this city.”
And that response was different from Aslan’s expectations.
Aslan expected her to question how he knew, that her claim might be valid too.
Just when Aslan was about to question her answer with curiosity, an eerie feeling flowed through him.
A chill of sorts. A unsettling sensation running down his spine. Aslan turned toward the presence that accompanied that sensation.
Both Aslan and Rumel looked in the same direction, behind Rumel. In that direction, something emerged from the dark alley.
It was a hand-sign user holding a spear in one hand.
His entire body was covered in an exoskeleton typical of insects, but there was a scar on his neck.
His clothing and armor were tattered, and oddly enough, only the forearm wearing the spear’s exoskeleton was larger than the opposite arm.
Aslan looked at the hand-sign user, feeling a disturbing familiarity, and Rumel gripped her spear, showing displeasure and rage.
“You…!”
The sour tone of the lady’s voice dripped with anger. Aslan heard that voice, looked back at the hand-sign user, and recognized who it was.
It was Thor Mull.
Another spear wielder adept with the spiral spear, once a master of the spear, and a traitor who had betrayed the Supreme Divinity.
Aslan deduced that Rumel had been attacked the moment she turned her back to him and spoke of not having killed anyone.
It was nothing more than a deduction, but it was enough. Aslan was a priest-killer, and a priest was right before him.
Aslan moved quickly. He drew the storm sword from behind him and gripped it under the unsharpened blade. With that paired sword gripped firmly, he took a sideways stance.
“I’ll take care of him. You deal with the hand-sign user behind you.”
Rumel didn’t respond, but that was sufficient. Aslan rushed forward in a low position, while Rumel adjusted her stance and extended her spear backward.
The sounds of metal clashing with wood, metal against metal echoed as Aslan raised his paired sword like a spear.
Clang!
The space was narrow. The alley was only about a meter wide.
Under normal circumstances, it would be hard to swing a great sword, but that didn’t apply to Aslan.
If there wasn’t enough space, all he had to do was grip the lower blade and swing it; and if a direct attack path didn’t appear, he could restrictively move his body.
With that limited movement, he thrust, raised, and swiped with the hilt. The incoming thrusts came furiously four times in a breath, extremely quick.
Countless thrusts, created by the harmony of technique and physical ability, rushed at Aslan’s vital points, stitching them tightly.
Clang!
However, he didn’t get hit. Each strike of the sword he swung as he stepped forward blocked three spear thrusts, while he changed the position of his hand to swipe the spear across.
As the spinning motion was interrupted, the spear thrust gently bounced back. In the moment the blade and spear crossed, Aslan solidified his gaze and repeated inwardly.
‘Call the thunder.’
Boom!
The instant he deflected the spear, the blade spun forward, causing a hazy cloud to envelop it as it struck the wall with acceleration. At the end of that fierce acceleration, the blade was nearly invisible.
Thud!
As the accelerated tip, almost invisible, pierced the palm, the former hand-sign user trembled with a repulsive buzzing sound. The ensuing spear thrust was a crude attack aimed at knocking Aslan away.
And Aslan would not let that opportunity pass.
Dodging to the side, Aslan rolled and charged forward.
‘Pierce the heart.’
The blade trembled lightly and ignited, expelling a fierce wind as it pierced through the wall.
Bang, smash, bang!
Then he hurtled through the shards of stone. With a sudden slicing movement, Thor Mull attempted to retreat too late, but it was no easy feat.
Smash!
His arm, allowing the heavy cut of the paired sword, was cleaved away, and Thor Mull emitted a buzzing cry as his spear thrust forward.
However, Aslan, who retrieved his horizontally held sword and gripped it in reverse, pushed the spear shaft away, tearing through the air.
Even if it spun, after the rotation ended, it was just a matter of restraining it.
With the spear forcefully pushed aside, Thor Mull attempted to make a counterattack; however, Aslan smiled.
Clang!
In that limited space, piercing strikes executed with a limited body were incredibly vulnerable.
Aslan guided all of that, grasping the spear tip with his gauntlet made of the Dragon King’s scales, pulling it to a stop, while taking his paired sword back.
Then, in that instant, a shadow flickering below Aslan vanished.
‘Shadow Flip.’
Swoosh!
Next came a two-hit combo. Strikes almost indistinguishable to even a hand-sign user transcending humanity, a near-perfect combination. The two diagonal strikes from both sides split Thor Mull’s throat, causing his severed head to lift for a moment before dropping.
Too weak. Although he thought that momentarily, Aslan moved quickly. He released the grip on the spear and seized the storm sword with both hands. Just as he was about to unleash mana and shoot the wind.
“Aslan, the spear…!”
As Rumel called out, glancing back, another hand-sign user appeared.
A typical hand-sign user without any weapon. That hand-sign user picked up Thor Mull’s fallen spear.
Seeing that, Aslan understood it was a warning to be cautious and withdrew the storm sword for a thrust.
The hand-sign user who had seized the spear thrust toward the storm sword, and as spear met blade, sparks flew around upon impact.
As that happened, Aslan felt the spear’s rotation.
It wasn’t just some natural movement of the wrist while simply thrusting the spear.
It was the spiral spear.
‘How?’
A technique arriving unexpectedly. The blade was forced back, revealing an opening.
Seeing the spiral spear rushing toward his chest, Aslan intertwined the wings of Steamfalos into its trajectory.
Clang!
However, the spear, infused with enough rotational energy, pushed Aslan back, and he was flung backward without a chance to resist.
“Aslan!”
Aslan hurtled out towards the alley’s exit. Rumel reached out and caught him, and the two tumbled out onto the ground.
Suppressing the urge to vomit while rolling and enduring the rising pain, Aslan quickly stopped. As he did, he extended his hand to brush off his cloak.
“…It’s gone?”
No one was in the alley.
The body of Thor Mull, whom Aslan had just killed, was nowhere to be found. Only the scattered insect fluids on the ground bore evidence of the fight.
Dismay. Aslan frowned as sounds of hurried footsteps approached.
“Stop, stop! There, the armed duo, put down your weapons and surrender!”
They were the guards.
They had rushed over from the commotion right in front of the outpost.
As they aimed their spears and halberds, Aslan scanned his surroundings with a troubled look.
There was no sign of the hand-sign users.
Aslan and Rumel were two well-armed individuals.
They could only appear to be suspects. Aslan let out a quiet sigh.
He couldn’t understand how the situation was unfolding. Why had the hand-sign users disappeared suddenly, and how could a different hand-sign user use the spiral spear, not Thor Mull?
Countless things were incomprehensible; however, amidst his unease, Aslan could affirm a few things.
This was not ordinary, and it was not simply a typical priest’s scheme.
And this arrest was also something the hand-sign users had aimed for.
As Aslan dropped the storm sword to the ground, Rumel, lying beneath him, reluctantly released her spear.
Then the guards surrounding Aslan and Rumel approached, one hand holding a rope for restraining.
