Ereta swallowed hard, revealing a reaction that was obvious to anyone who looked. As everyone’s attention suddenly turned to her, she belatedly realized she had drawn too much attention to herself and exhaled the breath she had forcibly held.
That exhaled breath sounded suspiciously like a sigh, which only produced the opposite effect, but Maria, who had delivered the news, didn’t seem particularly concerned.
After all, she appeared to have known from the start that the woman before her—Ereta—was the Saint of Slaughter.
Thus, without any surprise, she added lightly:
“There’s no need to worry so much. The one devoured was the Giant Who Shatters the Earth, not the Spider Who Weaves Fire.”
“The Giant Who Shatters the Earth…?”
While Ereta openly sighed in relief, Aslan was the one now voicing doubts.
The Giant Who Shatters the Earth.
One of the Three Evils, possessing power akin to the Poison-Spitting Dragon—a deity whose feet are said to crush the universe back into nothingness.
It would be understandable if a weakened spider had been consumed, but the idea that the giant had been eaten was beyond Aslan’s comprehension.
Maria observed Aslan’s expression and spoke, her seemingly innocent face contrasting with a cold detachment.
“Yes, the Poison-Spitting Dragon devoured the Giant Who Shatters the Earth. Then the High Priest of the Great Merchant, Blaz, fought with an artist, resulting in Blaz’s death. Consequently, the inevitability of the universe has coalesced under the Poison-Spitting Dragon.”
Delivered naturally, this story elicited two kinds of reactions from most of the traveling party.
Those with some knowledge of the Three Evils were met with confusion and astonishment.
Those without such knowledge simply expressed consistent bewilderment.
Only Aslan and Ereta stood apart from these reactions.
Ereta, while visibly relieved, subtly gripped the collar of Aslan’s coat with a faint sense of unease. More precisely, she clutched a feather from Steamfalos’ wing, her trembling pupils betraying her anxiety as she gazed at Aslan.
On the other hand, Aslan thought of something entirely unexpected amidst the unclear truths.
As he tried to ascertain the veracity, Maria continued, carefully observing Aslan and Ereta’s reactions.
“Oh, by the way, after eating the giant, it seems the inevitability of the universe changed its name. I think it was…”
“Basis of the End.”
“You knew?”
Aslan’s response was followed by the emotionless tone of the woman. In fact, her attitude seemed to confirm Aslan’s suspicions, causing him to close his eyes.
With a sigh tinged with irritation, he massaged his temples. Even as the group watched for his reaction, Aslan remained unresponsive.
Because what was happening now was anything but ordinary.
This was, after all, something that didn’t even exist within the game—at least, not until it was applied.
‘Of all things…’
A sigh escaped him as Aslan rubbed his face, feeling an intense weariness.
What was happening now wasn’t rooted in official content.
It was user-generated content—an unofficial addition to the game: a mod.
And it was quite a famous mod, one that Aslan himself had played before.
The mod was called “Basis of the End,” which also happened to be the name adopted by the force that completed its growth within the mod.
Born in the Anglophone world, the mod allowed players to cultivate the relatively weaker forces among the evil deities, including the Three Evils.
Its popularity was significant. Not only did it enable players to recruit Ereta, a notoriously difficult boss, as a companion without cheats, but it also greatly expanded the content related to the evil deities, which was sparse in the original game.
The problem was that this element was unofficial—a mod.
This shouldn’t have been happening.
Though Aslan couldn’t definitively categorize what this world truly was, he knew this shouldn’t exist.
Certainly, Aslan hadn’t played Eternal Dominion since its official release.
It wasn’t uncommon for popular or well-liked mods to be reverse-engineered and incorporated into games, so perhaps it had been officially added.
However, during his 12 years living in Geladridion, Aslan had never once thought this world resembled a game.
Nothing here operated like a game except for the single system window Aslan possessed.
This flow of events felt deeply unsettling.
Simultaneously, another presence came to mind for Aslan.
A being with goat horns on their head, long, almost white hair wrapped around their neck like a muffler.
Most likely a high priest serving the Dark Ram Herd, a woman radiating an ominous aura.
Valerie, the daughter of the Goat.
Aslan wondered if the application of this mod’s elements without player intervention could be part of the Dark Ram Herd’s conspiracy.
After all, without the Dark Ram Herd’s assistance, it would be impossible for the Poison-Spitting Dragon to consume its equal—the giant.
Sensing the ominous machinations beneath the surface, Aslan slowly opened his eyes.
Maria was now staring intently at Richard, seemingly having lost interest in Aslan.
The moment their eyes met, something appeared before Aslan—a very familiar system window.
[Ongoing Main Quest]
[! Investigate Olpasbet]
Watching this quest window, Aslan widened his eyes, prompting Maria to raise an eyebrow across from him.
‘Why now?’
Choosing between Helsing Earldom or the Varmanz, enduring an attack by priests there, then proceeding with the investigation toward Belus Alphen.
Encountering the will of the ancient gods there, deciphering it in the city of wizards.
Leaving that city, acquiring divine power of sorrow at the Sanctuary of Sorrow, and finally, Olpasbet.
That was the original main quest line.
The issue was that he had already obtained that divine power.
Therefore, Aslan had no idea how the subsequent quests would unfold.
Still, he hoped for quests to appear and proceeded with whatever surfaced, thus covering areas corresponding to the original quest line.
So, while the appearance of this quest was welcome, there was an undeniable uneasiness about it.
There was even a sense of regretful flow, as though there was an intention to isolate Aslan by sending him to Olpasbet in the current situation.
Aslan quickly suppressed his bewilderment, calming his gaze and thinking.
Although the occurrence of this quest now was regrettable, it was still part of the original quest line.
Thus, regardless of how he felt about the current situation, Aslan had to undertake this quest.
‘Anyway, I have to go to Olpasbet.’
Even without the quest, Aslan needed to head to Olpasbet.
Just as Aslan finished his thoughts, Maria was speaking to Richard.
“The Duke of Helsing entrusted me with these words regarding your safety, Richard brother: ‘Leave the Helsing Earldom and escape as far away as possible to hide. Until the situation changes and you’re summoned.’”
“How bad is the situation? Is it really that bad?”
“It’s not that bad yet. For now, they’re surrounding Cardi, searching for you, Richard brother, demanding submission while encircling the castle, but that’s all for now.”
“And yet we’re told to flee…?”
As Richard’s expression darkened, Maria suddenly turned her head to look at Aslan.
“The Duke of Helsing wishes for his heir, Richard brother, to be safe. He promises full cooperation if you, Aslan the Veteran, assist with this. And this Maria Aureus Meland guarantees this promise in the name of Meland.”
Full cooperation from the Kingdom of Vida and the Duke of Helsing. Though it wasn’t a scenario Aslan desired, he still felt a pang of regret.
It wasn’t because he had to flee.
It was because this entire flow felt constructed, which was regrettable.
The timing of this quest appearing just as he needed to head to Olpasbet was unsettling.
In the midst of the standoff between Cardi and the “Basis of the End,” Aslan felt this quest was guiding him to Olpasbet.
To Aslan, this world felt like a trap set by the Dark Ram Herd—a metaphorical pitfall of sorrow and death. It appeared to him as part of some grand conspiracy.
In that context, the system window itself couldn’t be trusted. If the Dark Ram Herd created the world, they might have also created the system window.
Though the system window had never betrayed him so far, it might be building trust only to deliver the final betrayal.
But even so, Aslan had to go to Olpasbet.
What must be done must be done, and the quest must proceed.
If it was a trap, he could prepare for it.
If he knew where he was being lured, he could anticipate the trap.
And if he could anticipate it, he could prepare for it.
Above all, Aslan knew that the Dark Ram Herd only revealed themselves when he was cornered with no means of escape.
What the herd sought wasn’t Aslan’s meaningless destruction—if it were, they would have acted long ago.
Having reached this conclusion, Aslan looked at Maria, the woman who gazed at him with clear, transparent eyes.
“There’s no exact destination mentioned. Is that left to my discretion?”
“Do you know a good place?”
Her response was effectively affirmative. Aslan replied,
“I’ll go to Olpasbet.”
Upon hearing those words, the group reacted.
“Hey, kid. That… is that place right?”
“Aslan sir… isn’t Olpasbet a bit… problematic? Considering the civil war there…”
“Phey thinks it’ll be fine. Aslan must have everything figured out.”
Some approved, others disapproved.
“Uh, Aslan… uh, sir? You’re not planning to hand me over as a prisoner, are you?”
Richard brought up an improbable possibility.
“We broke out of there, didn’t we? Won’t we get caught again if we go back?”
Anji voiced her rising question, tilting her head.
Only two remained silent: Ereta, nervously biting her lips, and Maria, watching Aslan with evident interest.
After observing and listening to all the reactions, Aslan spoke.
“If the Poison-Spitting Dragon truly devoured the giant and became the Basis of the End, the forces currently facing off against Cardi, especially the artist leading them, cannot be defeated solely by Cardi’s strength.”
“Is that so? Cardi has tall walls, many wizards, and numerous soldiers.”
“That won’t be enough.”
“So, that’s why Olpasbet? But… what exactly can Olpasbet offer help with?”
A city that merely prospers from selling slaves and minerals. Good defenses, but nothing more. A city not particularly known for its military prowess.
Maria thought this and was correct.
“Why are you going to that city?”
Thus, Maria concluded that Aslan had another motive.
To which Aslan responded with a question.
“Are you familiar with the history of Olpasbet?”
“About as much as anyone else.”
“Have you heard that Olpasbet houses the remains of the deity of Law and Order?”
“I’ve heard rumors. But isn’t it just a story? Something more suited for fairy tales…”
Maria turned her gaze elsewhere as Lumel suddenly raised his voice in excitement.
“It’s not just a story. While the claim that Olpasbet holds the remains of the deity of Law and Order is considered folklore in the Northern Continent, it’s widely accepted as historical fact in the Southern Continent, where there’s a higher ratio of wizards and imperial historians. The last battlefield of Law and Order was indeed Olpasbet, which was originally just a cave…”
He abruptly stopped mid-sentence.
Realizing he was the center of attention after Phey elbowed him in the ribs, he closed his mouth and covered his eyes with his thick braided hair.
“I apologize…”
His voice carried a hint of shame, his ears turning red as he stumbled behind a tree. Watching Lumel disappear, Aslan smirked slightly.
“What Lumel says is true. This belief is already accepted in the Southern Continent. Olpasbet is the remains of the deity of Law and Order who fell to the Poison-Spitting Dragon.”
“Huh…”
Tiamat let out a sigh, Richard looked dumbfounded, and Angie’s eyes sparkled with interest. Aslan swept his gaze over them all before continuing.
“That’s why I’m heading to Olpasbet. Specifically, to the deepest part of it, where a spear lies surrounded by extreme poison that turns humans into a puddle of blood upon contact.”
“A spear?”
“Yes, a spear.”
At the mention of the spear, Lumel peeked from behind the tree. Aslan glanced at him as he continued.
“The spear is called Judgment. One of the twin spears of Law and Order, it symbolizes law. Without this spear, the artist cannot be defeated.”
If this sequence of events resembled a mod, then the spear used by Law and Order, Judgment, was the only solution. Without it, Cardi was doomed.
*
Inside a luxurious crimson silk tent, an old man held a peculiar dagger.
The dagger resembled either a whimsically shaped branch or perhaps a star.
Regardless, it was not a weapon meant for slaughter. It was an artistic tool.
The old man deftly carved something with quick movements, carefully trimming and meticulously shaping it. He smoothed it with downward strokes and hollowed it out with upward ones.
The sound of scraping sliced through the silent night. Amidst the scraping sounds, someone wiggled their toes.
The existence standing firmly, exuding a strong presence despite standing on soil soaked with blood, had perfectly clean, almost surreal feet.
Despite the firm presence of this being, the old man paid no heed to it and continued diligently refining his art.
When the old man finally unveiled his masterpiece after much carving, a satisfied sigh filled the silence.
The warm, heavy sigh was received by a skull.
A colossal skull, like that of a giant. Etched with geometric patterns, adorned generously with precious gems in the spaces between the patterns, and lined with thin metallic strips along the lines forming the designs.
The old man, steeped in red and brass armor imbued with some kind of sorcerous significance, stared at the skull and spoke.
“Do you think it’s strange that I have such eccentric hobbies?”
No answer came.
The woman in ornate white robes, with bare feet and goat horns, simply smiled quietly.
Apparently finding that smile sufficient, the old man continued.
“To some, it may seem surprising, but I was rather close friends with this fellow. This is my tribute to him. After cutting, grinding, and polishing, I inscribed an eternal beauty upon it.”
Indeed, as he said, the skull possessed a certain aesthetic quality.
A passionate yet serene demeanor. A balance of brutality and beauty that seemed to embody personal conviction.
Though the process and subject might be misguided, the old man was undoubtedly an artist.
“But… I never got along with the daughter of the spider. She was never human, after all. How could I possibly befriend her? It was natural to be closer to Blaz, who was originally human.”
Still, isn’t he part of the Three Evils? Despite this, the old man’s voice softened with nostalgia.
“We cooperated and formed friendships during the time when the Three Evils were still together. We exchanged good alcohol, helped procure decent weapons, and so on. He was quite a good cook, too.”
As a gentle smile graced his weathered face, pockmarked like it had been eaten by bugs, a rare warmth of old age emerged.
But soon that warmth faded, replaced by cruelty.
“So why did you accept the proposal?”
Clear, resonant, seemingly soft voice. No trace of curiosity or doubt, it sounded more like a confirmation of something already known.
The artist laughed.
“I wish for all my endeavors to be artistic. And isn’t that the essence of art?”
Placing the dagger on the table with a thud, the old man spread his arms wide.
“Exception, surprise, unexpected encounters! The novelty built upon restraint and limitations, and the brilliance of life it emits! Blaz’s battle was that restraint and limitation. Cutting down two-thirds of the Three Evils was an act of art.”
Though the answer seemed unrelated, the woman remained silent, smiling quietly.
Seeing her smile, the old man returned it.
“My patron respected my intentions, and because of that, they finally became complete. One cannot remain part of the Three Evils forever, after all.”
With a chuckling laugh, the old man picked up a mace and shield from a corner of the tent.
Both the mace and shield were made of white steel. They were densely etched with artistic patterns. Hanging them on his back, he adjusted his attire with graceful movements.
Surely, his technique in wielding these tools was also based on artistry. The woman standing before him realized this.
That the old man was known as an artist.
That this artist was once a master of blunt weapons 150 years ago.
Once a master, now a high priest and former noble bandit baron deeply connected to the Poison-Spitting Dragon.
Standing tall despite his age, the old man asked,
“So, Olpasbet?”
Instead of answering, the woman curved her lips into a smile, prompting the artist to say,
“It’s intriguing.”
His voice carried a deep sense of excitement.
