Creak
Aslan picked up the executioner’s sword from among the piles of blood-soaked rocks.
The executioner’s sword, made of an unknown brass-colored metal, was an exquisite piece with a wide yet razor-sharp blade and a long handle.
It was only natural that there wasn’t a single mediocre weapon among the items used by the martial monk.
Aslan frowned as he turned the sword over in his hand.
“…”
The heavy weight flowed through his wrist.
‘Approximately 5kg, I’d say?’
It was quite substantial whether considered as a regular sword or as an executioner’s weapon. However, Aslan understood upon observing the user’s build.
Nearly 3 meters tall, with six arms.
Judging by its long handle, it seemed even a martial monk would have wielded this with both hands. He had also witnessed the precise manipulation of all six arms during combat.
For someone of such proportions, 5kg was a negligible number. Aslan detached the leather scabbard from the fallen martial monk’s body, slid the sword in, and fastened it to his waistband.
Though it added some weight to his hips, it wasn’t significant enough to bother with. The heightened morale would surely keep him moving despite the fatigue brought on by the heavy weapon.
“Ah.”
Just as Aslan was feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction after securing the weapon, Angie suddenly gasped. It was a sigh filled with regret.
When Aslan turned his head, Angie was looking at the axe in her hand with a disappointed expression.
“Damn it, my axe…”
It was expected, given the axe wasn’t of particularly high quality to begin with, but the one Angie had embedded into the martial monk’s spine was completely shattered—both the handle and the blade.
It was a loaned prisoner’s axe, so the broken handle wasn’t surprising, but the shattered blade caught Aslan off guard as he glanced down at the martial monk’s corpse.
The part of the martial monk’s exoskeleton where the spine connected to the neck was pierced, revealing the pinkish flesh underneath.
‘To break the supposedly sturdy exoskeleton of a martial monk and deal effective damage…’
While Aslan stared in amazement, Harrod, who had been flung away by a spear earlier, approached.
“We actually won. I knew you were strong, but I didn’t think it would be to this extent…”
“It went according to plan.”
“…Yeah, it’s fortunate that your plan worked out.”
This was Aslan’s strategy:
Aslan would appear threatening while searching for a way to disarm the shield and spear.
Once disarmed, Harrod would use them to block attacks and create an opening. While Aslan engaged the enemy, Angie would join in and attack.
If the martial monk became startled by Angie’s attack or appearance, Aslan would finish him off.
Simple in theory, but Harrod seemed incredulous that the plan had actually succeeded.
They thought the mere appearance of a slum girl would startle the martial monk, but the reaction was far more intense than anticipated.
Coupled with the effectiveness of Angie’s attack, the martial monk was left with no recourse and perished.
Harrod looked at Angela Tail, holding the spear-pierced shield, with a curious expression.
‘She wasn’t this skilled before… or was she holding back until now?’
Despite his questions about Angela Tail, Harrod approached Aslan.
Aslan pulled the broken spear from the shield and handed the remaining blade, which resembled a glaive with an 80cm blade and a meter-long shaft, to Angie.
“Here, it’s yours.”
Her eyes widened as she took it.
“Huh? What is this? Is it mine?”
Her voice was brimming with joy. Aslan nodded lightly.
“You did well, so you deserve something. There should be rewards for everyone.”
What Angie had accomplished was astonishing even to Aslan.
Dealing an effective blow to a veteran martial monk using just a handaxe was an incomprehensible feat.
Even Aslan couldn’t do it without the help of combat techniques and ultimate specializations.
There, Aslan saw potential. While dexterity aided by strength and agility played a role, it was Angie’s instinctive movements targeting the exact center of mass that revealed possibility.
Considering her future growth, this potential could become the greatest asset they might encounter.
In terms of surviving Gelladridion, this reward—a broken spear—was hardly excessive.
Aslan handed the remaining shaft, slightly over a meter long, to Harrod.
“What are we going to do now?”
Taking the shaft, Harrod rotated it in his hand before asking.
“Hmm, I was thinking we should head towards the Calus Empire.”
“And what about me?”
At that, Aslan finally looked up at Harrod Crow. Harrod was gazing at Aslan with a serious expression.
“That’s something you’ll have to figure out yourself.”
Harrod let out a low hum without much response, seemingly expecting companionship.
But that wasn’t possible. Given the upcoming main quest, Harrod wouldn’t contribute much anyway.
At best, he’d serve as a meat shield, which Aslan found undesirable.
“I don’t want unnecessary casualties.”
The ideal scenario was solving problems with minimal injuries and deaths. In Geladridion, where such cases were common, parting ways made that possible.
Thus, Aslan declared their farewell.
“You remember what I said at the beginning, right? Your service to me earned you freedom. You’ve gained your freedom.”
Considering Harrod Crow’s surname and his discovery in Olpasbet, Aslan continued.
“There are many precedents of people expelled from Belus Alphen who return. Though it may seem distant now, building reputation and honor will eventually allow you to return.”
Upon hearing this, Harrod’s usually stoic face showed vivid surprise.
“How did you know? Most Clows visible outside are exiles. And since you were a prisoner, it’s not hard to infer.”
“Ah… I see.”
Though Harrod momentarily appeared uncomfortable, he didn’t press further, seemingly pondering Aslan’s words.
With no further interruptions expected, Aslan opened the system window.
[Ongoing Main Quest]
[None]
[Completed Main Quests]
[! Defeat the Priest and Survive]
[LEVEL UP]
As expected, his level had increased. Aslan distributed the stat points evenly.
To Angie: Strength, Agility, Health.
To himself: Mana, Will, Luck.
As mana surged through his body, the lingering fatigue disappeared.
Luck hadn’t manifested yet, but Aslan reasoned it might take time.
Angie, sensing something different, shrugged her shoulders before abruptly turning her head.
She was staring at the severed head of the martial monk, whose compound eyes were wide open as it stared at Aslan and Angie.
Only then did Aslan detect a vague presence akin to every hair being brushed.
The sensation came from afar, intensifying as Aslan looked skyward though seeing nothing.
He understood what the dead martial monk was doing.
Whispering to his god about the ancient deity of speech and combat.
Futile, of course. The gods already sensed the growing power of the ancient deity.
A foreboding chill hung in the air where Aslan gazed upward.
“Why is something wrong, sir?”
At Harrod’s question, Aslan remained silent, continuing to look skyward.
“It’s the effect of luck…”
An unsettling feeling enveloped him. Aslan felt the gaze of the gods as if his sixth sense was burning.
This was the true beginning of the main quest, both in the game and reality.
Recalling the reasons, Aslan smiled bitterly.
Once, these gods left indelible marks on the world, slaughtering countless humans and ancient deities.
Yet, they refrained from interfering directly through priests because of this:
The last ancient deity, the goddess of sorrow and death, realizing she was about to be slain, decided the world must be closed off.
Being death itself, she grew stronger and managed to seal the world before her demise.
However, her power wasn’t enough to fully close it, as the gods were too powerful.
Thus, the world was ambiguously sealed, allowing gods to interfere only through priests.
The gods wanted to completely reopen this ambiguous seal and needed the power of an ancient deity to do so.
The sole ancient deity’s power in the world.
From now on, the gods would target Angie, who possessed the power of the ancient deity.
“And the first attempt will likely come from the Supreme Divinity.”
Aslan instinctively knew he would soon meet the envoy of the first attempt.
His intuition proved correct not long after.
*
The sound of armored riders echoed, followed by the thunderous galloping of horses weaving between trees.
Soon, several soldiers, a knight, and wizards materialized.
“Are we surrounded?”
Harrod wore an uneasy expression as he glared through the bushes, while Angie looked irritated.
Only Aslan maintained a calm demeanor.
The wizards dismounted and began channeling mana, the knight signaled the soldiers from atop his horse, and the armored regular troops tightened the encirclement, weapons drawn.
Through the gaps, Aslan spotted their leader.
A man with platinum-blonde bangs, neatly trimmed mustache and beard, wearing a short fur draped over his shoulder and a glossy black doublet.
The man stepped forward past the soldiers, placed his hands behind his back, and addressed them.
“Greetings, esteemed individuals. Might we have a word?”
Aslan remained silent, merely lowering his gaze and extending a palm to block Angie and Harrod.
“If you’ll excuse the abruptness of this… encirclement, I hope it isn’t too unpleasant. My name is Cornil Ashuld, of the Ashuld family.”
Receiving no response, Cornil Ashuld smiled knowingly while staring into the shadows where Aslan’s group hid.
“I understand if you’re not in the mood for introductions. That’s reasonable, considering the armed reception. But please understand, it’s for my safety. Now, onto the main matter!”
Clapping his hands lightly, the man grinned.
“We detected a powerful vibration nearby. Something we simply couldn’t ignore. Though I may not look it, I’m an imperial investigator responsible for probing suspicious incidents within the empire and handling or reporting them accordingly. I’ve come here to investigate, fulfilling my duty.”
Though lengthy, the gist was simple: you look suspicious, so we’re investigating.
Cornil Ashuld added briefly, perhaps to emphasize his point.
“Would you kindly step out and assist with the investigation? I’d like to hear your testimony.”
His smile radiated arrogant confidence.
Listening to this, Aslan paused to consider.
He knew this man well, recognizing every lie spilling from his lips.
That’s why Aslan hesitated.
The next main quest started because of this man.
More specifically, due to his dazzling betrayal.
Knowing about the betrayal beforehand, understanding how to handle it, along with the motives, goals, and backing, made it fearless to Aslan.
Rather, he could extract numerous benefits during the process leading to the betrayal.
So Aslan deliberated.
Ultimately, after contemplation, Aslan gestured to the girl.
Upon seeing the signal, Angie rose from the bushes first, followed by Aslan stepping out from the tree shadows.
As Angie led and Aslan trailed, Cornil Ashuld’s smile widened as he extended a hand.
“Ah, finally, you’ve emerged. There’s no need to be frightened. These are merely my guards…”
His confident tone faltered as his gaze shifted from Angie to Aslan, choking mid-sentence.
As if a dam holding back thoughts and emotions, his expression slowly crumbled.
The crumbling revealed astonishment, confusion, and a dash of fear.
Completing his expression, Cornil Ashuld gasped.
“Emperor… assassin?”
Hearing this, Aslan sighed, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Though merely leaning his wrist on the weapon, Cornil Ashuld nervously swallowed.
In contrast, Aslan watched the spreading fear emanating from Cornil Ashuld like an infectious disease, quietly urging him.
“Go on.”
Silence fell. Not even the sound of drawing weapons or swallowing broke the absolute stillness.
Tilting the sword hilt, Aslan nodded toward Cornil Ashuld.
“Tell me what the emperor’s hunting dog desires.”
At this, the pupils of the man called Cornil Ashuld, the emperor’s hunting dog, trembled violently.
