The incident happened suddenly. Until then, the woman had been sipping her drink and looking around for Aslan, but she was the quickest to notice the change right there.
A scream escaped. Not from the woman, but from someone else. Ereta, upon hearing the scream, put down her glass and looked in the direction it came from.
In that direction stood a priest.
“Ah…?”
Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Ereta’s mouth hung open.
If it had been an ordinary monk, she wouldn’t have given it much thought, but what she saw before her eyes was not a monk.
It was a priest of the Poison-Spitting Dragon.
Several priests wielding specks dripping with poison gripped their weapons tightly. When they appeared in the banquet hall, Ereta blinked and followed the screams with her gaze.
People pierced by the priests lay sprawled on the floor. Whether from the deep wounds or the poison, they no longer moved.
There was no sign of the palace guards. In fact, some of the priests were even dressed as palace guards. They began swinging their spears and halberds, cutting down or stabbing those inside the hall.
“Aaaah! Monsters, monsters!”
“Guards, where are the guards!”
Frantic cries filled the air. Only after seeing people fleeing and the approaching priests did Ereta finally grasp the situation.
For some reason, unknown how, priests of the Poison-Spitting Dragon had invaded.
The reason was easy to guess. Though the priests of the Evil Deity may be weak, since they rarely deviate from human form, they’re quite adept at infiltration.
Even during her time as a high-ranking priestess, Ereta had repeatedly used this strategy, so it made sense that the same thing was happening now.
‘Haven’t seen them around for a while, and they’ve been preparing this kind of trick.’
Narrowing her eyes, Ereta looked at the priest charging toward her.
The spear tip, dripping with poison. Even a shallow stab could be fatal.
Seeing the spear coming closer, Ereta threw the glass she was holding.
Clang!
As the glass flew toward the face of the priest who was pulling his spear back at close range, shards of pottery mixed with alcohol scattered upon impact.
Through the swirling shards of broken pottery, the distorted face of the priest in pain came into view.
Before the priest could recover, Ereta moved. She reached out, grabbed the back of the priest’s neck, pulled his green-scaled neck toward her, leaned in, and kicked him.
With the sudden movement, the sound of her dress tearing could be heard, and her long, white leg swung out, sending the priest flying helplessly across the floor.
When the priest who rolled on the ground didn’t get up, the other priests glared at Ereta.
The eerie purple light in their eyes flashed ominously, and Ereta mirrored their glare, her own eyes glowing purple as she smirked.
“I’m a veteran too, you know?”
Though no one asked, she replied anyway, and the priests charged.
Despite lacking weapons, Ereta was indeed a veteran, as she claimed.
Moreover, she wasn’t entirely unarmed. As she swept her skirt, two weapons emerged in each hand.
One was a hand axe, and the other was a hammer. Two small weapons barely fitting in her hands.
Ereta twirled the two weapons lightly in her hands before gripping them firmly and rushing toward the priests.
The first to charge was a priest wielding a halberd. Strangely, the priest wearing both helmet and armor thrust the halberd straight forward, and Ereta sidestepped to avoid the weapon aimed at her forehead.
Clang! The halberd sliced through the air with a strength unbecoming of a priest, even causing his stance to waver. Upon seeing this, Ereta half-closed her eyes and struck the priest’s chin with her hammer.
Crack! The priest collapsed unconscious with teeth flying everywhere. Ereta deflected the next priest’s attack with her axe and dodged a spear aimed at her neck by leaning sharply.
Something felt off. While dodging countless weapons aimed at her, twisting and swaying her body, Ereta noticed the oddity.
‘They’re too weak. And their numbers keep increasing.’
No matter how skilled the priests of the Three Evils were at disguise, this number was excessive. It was as if they were being conjured on the spot.
Considering their weakness despite being priests, only one conclusion came to mind.
They were flooding this place with hastily assembled priests to kill Ereta.
What’s more, Tiamat, Angie, Lumel, Aslan, and Phey were nowhere to be seen. Only priests kept relentlessly surrounding her, though those she had felled remained motionless.
‘This is definitely a trap set for me.’
Of course, the reason was unclear. There was only the phenomenon occurring. Ereta slammed the head of a charging priest with her hammer and trampled on the fallen one, grabbing his dented helmet.
‘I’m not planning to die here.’
The woman, determined to survive, exhaled the breath she had deeply inhaled and glared at the charging priests.
At that moment, part of the encircling priests crumbled as if bursting apart.
Simultaneously, three figures came into view.
Two priests with bare fists and one wielding a mace dripping with poison. Their sudden appearance startled the priests about to charge at Ereta, causing them to hesitate momentarily before redirecting their attacks towards these three figures.
Just as the weapons of those charging emitted a chilling green glow, Ereta paused at this sudden internal conflict among the priests. At that instant, the leading figure of the trio rushed forward and collided bodily.
With arms folded close to his body, he charged straightforwardly. Though simplistic, the result was immense.
Kwaang!
The clamor of the charging priests’ weapons being deflected and armor being crushed reverberated loudly. Ereta watched in astonishment.
Did priests of the Poison-Spitting Dragon possess such monstrous strength?
At least, to Ereta’s knowledge, they did not. Perhaps priests of giants might.
While observing the mysterious display of brute force by the priest, Ereta suddenly felt a sense of unease.
Upon reflection, it was strange.
Suddenly, the number of priests of the Poison-Spitting Dragon had increased dramatically.
Moreover, just moments ago, the number of people inside the banquet hall seemed to have decreased.
Not due to death, but rather, they had vanished without a trace. No one had fled either, as the door was behind the trio of priests who had just burst in.
Having experienced numerous battles as a high-ranking priestess, Ereta finally grasped what was happening. Taking advantage of the frightened priests stepping back, she approached the aforementioned trio, her lips tightly clenched, tension evident on her face.
Approaching Ereta, who was visibly tense, was the tallest of the trio. What if they weren’t who they seemed? As worry clouded Ereta’s features, the tall priest extended a hand.
The pale hand rested atop Ereta’s head, and the sensation of scales was distinct under her touch.
Recognizing the clear texture, Ereta gripped her hand axe tightly as the priest stroked her head. The gesture of smoothing her white hair brought a sense of familiarity.
Definitely Aslan’s touch. Realizing this, the purple haze in Ereta’s pupils dissipated, breaking her hallucination.
Once freed from the illusion, Ereta saw many things.
First, the trio that appeared to be priests were not priests at all.
It was Aslan, Angie beating up the palace guards, and the Emperor.
And the ones Ereta had just been assaulting were mostly palace guards or retainers brought by the guests.
They lay on the floor, either toothless or with bulging eyes trembling uncontrollably.
Though none were dead, most would likely have trouble chewing food for a while.
Since it was obvious who was responsible, Ereta awkwardly smiled and returned her weapons to her skirt.
“Aslan, it’s been a while. How have you been…?”
With a perplexed expression, Ereta averted her eyes, and Aslan smiled faintly.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes…”
*
After reuniting with the group, Aslan quickly scoured the castle to find the rest of the party.
The main reason was that among the remaining members, there were several individuals who, if affected by the illusion magic, could cause massive casualties.
Another reason was that he needed to locate Lumel, whom he had sent ahead earlier.
Hoping that Tiamat hadn’t shot anyone and Phey hadn’t snapped someone’s neck, Aslan searched the castle.
He soon realized that he didn’t need to worry. Due to Tiamat and Phey’s exceptional senses, the illusion magic hadn’t affected them.
Finally, in a large guestroom, Aslan posed a question, to which Tiamat and Phey responded in turn.
“To such a shallow magic, old man, even this kid wouldn’t fall for it.”
“Yeah, when what you see and feel are different. Phey isn’t dumb enough to fall for something like that. Just close your eyes and open them again!”
“That’s true. If what you feel is different, you should be able to notice, right?”
Exchanging natural replies, the two suggested methods seemingly simple, yet in reality, not so straightforward. Aslan chuckled wryly and turned his gaze to the approaching Lumel.
“Master Aslan, I’ve subdued and gathered them as per your orders.”
Inside the vast guestroom were several people. Some, like Frieda and the chamberlain, were unharmed, while others still trembled with purple light in their eyes.
And those whose eyes glowed purple shared a common trait: they had already collapsed once, missing some teeth or sporting lumps on their heads.
Among them were those Angie had beaten and dragged along the way, still under the influence of the illusion.
Lumel, reading Aslan’s gaze, sighed heavily and spoke.
“However… the magic refuses to dissipate. We’ve informed them it’s an illusion and even made physical contact, but instead of fading, they seem increasingly terrified. We’ve tried everything, but it doesn’t seem to work.”
Aslan smiled gently and shifted his gaze. Far away, the emperor was shaking his subordinates, and nearby, Angie occasionally glanced at Aslan.
Meeting Angie’s eyes, Aslan waved at her and spoke to Lumel.
“There’s no helping it. Rowena’s illusion magic is extraordinary because it deceives all the senses completely… Unless one possesses exceptional senses like Tiamat or Phey, there’s almost no way to escape it on their own.”
Of course, it was actually an issue of stats.
In the game, fighting the Black Witch was a battle where resistance to illusions depended on luck or morale, and dispelling the magic required high mana; otherwise, there was no choice but to succumb.
Thus, Angie fell victim due to having all mental stats at 1, whereas Tiamat and Phey resisted.
“What will you do then?”
Taking the opportunity, Ereta squeezed between them, clinging to Aslan’s forearm as she asked. Ignoring Ereta’s grip on his arm, Aslan replied.
“The caster must either be killed or forced to retreat.”
In this case, it was Rowena.
Aslan knew where Rowena would be.
“While I deal with it… the rest of you stay here and watch over those affected by the illusion magic. Keep an eye out for any other enemies.”
“…Are you going alone? Rather, shouldn’t we all go together…?”
Lumel attempted to object, but Aslan shook his head, silencing him.
“Only I can counter Rowena’s magic. If I approach closely, she’ll undoubtedly unleash a mass illusion. To withstand it requires both keen senses and magical prowess.”
The others seemed convinced, showing expressions of regret, but Lumel stared intently at Aslan.
“Is that really true?”
After a brief silence, Aslan had no choice but to tell another lie.
“It’s true.”
“I see. Then… please return safely. We’ll handle things here.”
Lumel, seeming to have caught on to the lie, and the others who hadn’t, watched as Aslan smiled apologetically and patted Angie’s head as she approached late.
“Eh, what? Where are you going? I want to….”
As Lumel stopped Angie from following, Aslan left the group behind and exited the guestroom. Climbing the spiral staircase leading directly to the top, Aslan sighed deeply.
In truth, there was no need for him to go alone.
It was true that illusions would be cast, but resisting them didn’t require magical ability.
Phey and Tiamat could have easily endured it, so ideally, he should have taken at least them along.
However, Aslan chose not to. He had to go alone after lying to the group and gaining Lumel’s understanding.
Because if he didn’t, Rowena would flee without hesitation.
Aslan took out the talisman while ascending the seemingly endless spiral staircase.
This talisman was essentially an invitation.
A love letter requesting a private meeting from Rowena.
Clenching the talisman tightly, Aslan believed this was the best course of action.
Of course, he still harbored lingering feelings for Rowena.
But beyond those feelings, Aslan needed to uncover information about the mastermind during this meeting and conversation.
He had to extract information and assess the situation.
There wouldn’t be another chance like this.
It was somewhat disadvantageous, and he had to lie to Lumel, but it was a necessary falsehood.
At least, that’s what Aslan believed.
By the time he reached the end of the spiral staircase, Aslan hoped his judgment wouldn’t prove wrong.
According to Emperor Ilyena, this tower led to a spacious aerial garden.
Slowly opening the door leading to the aerial garden, Aslan faced the wind blowing gently.
Amidst the wind carrying petals, a single woman bathed in the soft moonlight.
The woman sat astride the tower railing, her body facing Aslan while her head tilted slightly upward toward the moon.
Though her face was veiled, her entire body concealed in a dress that revealed not a hint of skin, Aslan felt an agonizing sense of déjà vu upon seeing her.
Even the scent tickling his nose was familiar—a damp, pleasant smell akin to earth after rain, always emanating from her.
As the wind changed direction, blowing from the high tower, the woman’s black hair fluttered, lifting the veil.
The revealed face—purple irises with a bewitching aura, a somewhat languid expression.
With those languid half-open eyes, the woman glanced sideways at Aslan before turning her head.
A seductive smile graced her lips, and their eyes met.
“Hello, Hyun-woo.”
Lee Hyun-woo lowered his gaze and smiled sadly.
