Thor Mull’s dumbfounded face was left behind as Aslan’s consciousness sank away. The rapid descent brought to mind the image of being dragged underwater by the foam of a submarine volcano.
The descending consciousness soon crossed over the boundary into unconsciousness and plunged deep beyond the surface of that water.
In Geladridion, unconsciousness was akin to the boundary of the soul, so Aslan could immediately recognize the place his soul had reached.
Beyond the creeping darkness threatening to engulf Aslan’s soul, he barely regained his senses to find indescribable entities clearly coming into view.
There stood Thor Mull.
It was Thor Mull as he appeared before meeting his first death at Lumel’s hands.
Aslan looked silently at him with steady eyes and discovered himself wearing only a simple leather armor and a shabby cloak.
There was not a single weapon in sight.
The armor and cloak wrapped around his body were far from thick enough to block any attack.
It was little more than being almost bare-handed. Aslan tapped his body to confirm this fact and then gazed steadily at Thor Mull.
Confusion and astonishment were twisted across Thor Mull’s face, where faint traces of wariness lingered.
It seemed he didn’t understand why Aslan had entered his mental world so confidently, gripping a spear.
Thoughts crossed his mind about whether there might be some hidden intention or purpose here, filling him with conflict. Nevertheless, he quickly shook off these doubts and lowered his spear.
In Thor Mull’s right hand was clutched a gleaming black spear — a partisan type of spear.
This black spear resembled the white steel spear once taken by Lumel and surged with a very familiar mana to Aslan.
That mana was undoubtedly Boren’s necromantic magic.
Still, it wasn’t entirely identical to Boren’s magic. There was a difference.
Unlike Boren’s necromantic magic, which typically lacked additional effects, this mana generated an effect akin to infection.
If pricked or cut by it, one would become Thor Mull.
More precisely, Thor Mull’s soul would be implanted, turning the victim into a puppet controlled by his will.
Thus, Thor Mull held an absolute advantage in this world.
Considering this was Thor Mull’s mental world, even if Aslan defeated him multiple times, a single mistake could still lead to defeat.
Moreover, as long as Thor Mull did not give up, the battle would never end. When Aslan realized this upon entering the space, it became clear that his chances of winning were almost nonexistent.
On the other hand, Thor Mull’s victory was easily within reach.
Upon stepping into Thor Mull’s mental world, opponents were stripped of their weapons and armor, leaving them with few means to resist.
Thor Mull was aware of this fact, and Aslan recognized it the moment he entered the space.
Countless souls had faded away in this space, giving Aslan insight into how many citizens of Ashan must have perished.
Facing an opponent who was once a veteran spearman, there was no way to win without weapons. Even a master of combat couldn’t fell someone who wouldn’t fall.
What was needed to bring Thor Mull down was simply to dispel the magic on the spear.
That was Aslan’s only chance.
Without even grazing him, Aslan had to seize the spear from Thor Mull.
Though extremely difficult, it had to be done.
Aslan raised his fists. He lightly bounced on his feet and then stood straight.
Thor Mull blinked upon seeing Aslan’s posture. The sight of him raising his fists without any weapon gave the impression of confidence that he could take on Thor Mull with just his bare hands.
The armor covering his body was meaningless. The moment it was struck directly by Thor Mull’s spiral spear, the leather armor would be easily torn apart.
Yet, still bare-handed.
Mocking Thor Mull, the champion spearman, with mere fists.
Recognizing all this, Thor Mull gritted his teeth.
“Are you mocking me… Aslan?”
Aslan didn’t reply. Quietly holding his fists, he stared intently at Thor Mull, whose calm and composed demeanor irritated him.
It felt like mockery.
Like feeling humiliated for being defeated by a woman who had only been wielding a spear for a year, newly crowned as the spear champion.
I’ll rip your face apart, scatter your soul, and eventually possess your body. With mounting curses expressed through grinding teeth, Thor Mull charged forward.
In the empty void devoid of wind, the spear thrust came flying. A starkly black spear that refused to blend into the darkness aimed for Aslan’s head, grazing a few strands of his hair as it pierced through where his head had been.
“Aaack!”
The spear, soaked in darkness, passed directly by Aslan’s head. Glancing at it briefly, Aslan glared at Thor Mull.
Whoosh!
Ducking slightly, Aslan avoided the spear blade slicing towards his neck. Dropping lower while dodging, he placed one hand on the ground.
Crack!
Pushing off with the hand planted on the ground, he leaned further back and kicked out. The kick rose from the ground and slammed into Thor Mull’s side.
“Ugh…!”
Thor Mull was pushed back. At the same moment Aslan stood upright, Thor Mull swung his spear wildly. A quick stabbing motion released with his left hand—an attack too fast for any novice warrior to dodge, even if they saw it coming.
Unlike Phey, Tiamat, or Ereta, this was a skill honed by someone who hadn’t been born with talent but had practiced tirelessly. Aslan honestly recognized the spear blade aiming for his head and narrowly avoided it by tilting his body.
The blade whistled past his eyes, pulled back for another swing. Aslan pressed forward.
The weakness of a spear is distance. No matter how great the wielder, the advantages of a spear diminish in close quarters.
Of course, the risks increase accordingly. Aslan and Thor Mull were in different conditions. Aslan faced overwhelming disadvantage—any touch meant death and soul theft. On the other hand, Thor Mull wouldn’t die no matter how much he was beaten.
The only chance of victory lay in weapon seizure.
Removing the spell on the spear was the sole method.
Avoiding contact and seizing the spear from Thor Mull.
Though exceedingly difficult, it had to be done.
Even with this slim chance, Aslan closed the distance and bent low.
At that moment, Thor Mull’s sweeping blade passed behind Aslan’s head.
The whistling sound of the blade moving horizontally and vertically. Aslan opened his eyes wide and moved to evade the dark blade.
Aiming at the advancing Aslan, Thor Mull stepped back, shifted his hand position, and struck downward. Before the strike connected, Aslan deflected the spear shaft with his elbow.
Recovering the spear, Thor Mull spun around, changed footing, and stopped, unleashing another strike. A handful of metal pieces surged forth, cutting through the air with a sharp whistle invisible to the eye. But Aslan was a master of combat.
Just observing the preparatory movements allowed him to anticipate what followed.
In that sense, Thor Mull wasn’t as challenging as the Dragon King.
The spear thrust, moving from above toward below. Aslan spotted the movement late but twisted his body to avoid it, pushing the spear shaft away with his knee.
As the spear twisted, so did the body. This was due to the full-weighted downward strike missing its mark.
“What…!”
Thor Mull’s voice of shock echoed through the abyss as Aslan swung his elbow and struck his chest.
Crack!
Before Thor Mull’s body could be pushed back, Aslan spun around and drove a punch into him. The sunken chest. While the non-existent flesh cried out in pain, Aslan moved.
Retrieving the punch, he flipped backward and struck Thor Mull’s face with the back of his hand.
“Ugh!”
After striking with the back of his hand, Aslan immediately extended his arm and caught Thor Mull by the neck. His aim was a suplex; afterward, he intended to break the arm and seize the spear. However, the spear blade blocked his attempt.
“Urgh.”
Swinging the spear like a dagger held in a short grip. Though a crude move, it was exactly what Thor Mull needed at that moment.
With the spear blade narrowly held, Thor Mull swiftly turned, leaving only an afterimage, and struck again.
A series of spear strikes closing the distance in four or five breaths. Aslan had to retreat to avoid the incoming spear blade, endlessly stepping back in the bottomless abyss while evading the relentless attacks.
Dodging the spear blade aimed at his head by tilting his head, he turned his body to avoid the following slash. Spotting the opening, he blocked the rising spear blade with a kick from his shin before it could hit him.
But simultaneously blocking it, Thor Mull swept the spear shaft, causing Aslan to stumble. Just as Aslan fell, the spear blade lunged toward his heart.
“Ugh!”
Catching the spear blade between his palms, Aslan stopped its downward plunge. Despite not breaking a sweat, a chilling sensation ran down his spine.
Clang!
As Thor Mull pressed down and Aslan pushed back, the spear blade ultimately embedded itself into the unseen floor of the abyss. Before Thor Mull could twist his wrist and slice Aslan’s neck, Aslan used his core strength to leap up and kicked him in the face.
Finally, Thor Mull dropped the spear and tumbled across the floor. Before he could rise, Aslan seized the spear.
The gentle flow of mana along the spear shaft. The structure of the magic resembled Boren’s necromancy—a harmony of the Variant School and Restoration School. Understanding this mana, Aslan attempted to immediately dispel it.
Before he could, Thor Mull collided with him.
Aslan and Thor Mull rolled together on the ground. Even as they rolled, Aslan tried to dispel the spear’s magic, while Thor Mull attempted to stab and infect him. The two incorporeal spirits rolled across the abyss and finally came to a stop.
When they stopped, the spear blade was deeply embedded in Aslan’s abdomen.
“…Damn.”
There was no pain. And that lack of pain terrified Aslan immensely.
Soon, Aslan’s self would be erased, and Thor Mull’s soul would possess his body.
Regret and fear swirled chaotically through Aslan’s mind as he solemnly stared at the spear blade lodged in his stomach.
“Haha! I won. I, I won!”
Thor Mull’s voice rang out in triumph. Unlike Aslan, he rejoiced exuberantly, while Aslan closed his eyes solemnly.
Preparing to accept death.
Waiting for the cold, desolate death.
But death did not come.
Aslan slowly opened his eyes, realizing neither his self had been erased nor had Thor Mull devoured his soul. He looked at Thor Mull.
Thor Mull looked down at Aslan with puzzlement. It wasn’t merely that Aslan’s transformation was delayed.
His expression suggested something had gone wrong.
Aslan frowned at such Thor Mull and then suddenly widened his eyes in response to a certain sensation.
A gaze was felt.
It wasn’t Thor Mull’s gaze. Thor Mull also sensed it and looked upward.
A piercing gaze coming from very high above.
It felt like the gaze of some colossal creature, or perhaps a malevolent glare filled with hatred. Both Aslan and Thor Mull looked up at the sky of the abyss.
Beyond it, something existed.
An overwhelming presence.
The obsessive fixation that overwhelming presence had on Aslan. The sticky emotion that felt as though it would crush and grind his body. Involuntarily, Aslan opened his mouth.
“The Dark Ram Herd…”
Beyond the abyss, something was there. That will and horizon of knowledge adorned like the darkest burning stars. As Aslan and Thor Mull met its gaze, the entity returned their look.
At the moment their eyes met, Thor Mull spoke.
“Ahh…”
Then knowledge flowed into Thor Mull’s mind.
The one imbued with the power of the ram herd pierced the one under its gaze, drawing that gaze.
By doing so, Thor Mull saw something he shouldn’t have.
The moment he saw it, Thor Mull knew it was something he shouldn’t have seen.
It was instinct.
An instinct deeply ingrained in all beings of Geladridion, evil deities, ancient gods, and monsters alike, those touched by its hand.
Thor Mull understood.
What that mighty existence was.
What this world was.
And…
“You… You…!”
What Aslan was.
Like a criminal hanging by the neck, Thor Mull rapidly nodded his head until it creaked. Various emotions flowed through his eyes as he stared at Aslan.
Shock, confusion, discomfort, followed by fear.
With his darkened, damp eyes, Thor Mull shouted.
“You, what are you exactly!”
Shouting even though he already knew.
Wishing to deny it, even though he’d seen the answer.
“What is this world anyway?!”
Wishing for someone to dismiss his acquired knowledge as absurd.
Struggling, shedding tears, he shouted.
“What am I even?!”
Black crystals sprouted from his entire body, and black blood flowed from his eyes. Coating himself in black blood, paying the price of immense knowledge, Thor Mull roared.
“Aaaaaaaah!”
Screaming, he pulled out the spear. Raising it high, he aimed it at Aslan and struck down. As Aslan barely managed to extend his hand in response to the sudden strike and situation,
Crack, snap.
Rumble!
With the displeasure of some entity, the world shattered.
Countless fragments of the abyss scattered like broken glass. Aslan plummeted endlessly through the gaps.
Falling back into reality at tremendous speed.
As Aslan collapsed upon returning to reality, Thor Mull’s body began to transform.
Bulging, beetle-like carapace-covered skin erupted and sunk in. As if being gnawed from within, trying to burst outward.
Thor Mull, swelling and shrinking like a pulsating heart, clutched his body and trembled.
“He, heeeugh.”
The sound of phlegm, the desperate wheeze of someone overcome by fear trying to exhale, the melting army.
No one could utter a word in the face of such overwhelming grotesqueness except to watch silently.
Lifting his head amidst the silence,
“Aaaah, aaaaah!”
As Thor Mull let out a bird-like scream and tried to say something,
Boom!
As if squashed by a giant finger, the insect-like Thor Mull exploded.
The splattered black liquid burned and vanished in mid-air, and the spear and army he held melted away.
The acrid smell spreading amidst the choking stench, something unpleasant none had ever smelled before. Everyone inhaled but couldn’t exhale at that moment.
Unconsciously, Aslan looked up at the sky.
There was nothing there.
Only the rising sun.
