Prison City Olpasbet. Although it is located within the Calus Empire, due to the civil war that recently occurred, it has become a city and barony that can no longer be said to truly belong to the Calus Empire.
It is a massive city encompassing an entire mountain range, filled with an unrestrained dampness, unlike the city of Asan, known for its indulgence.
Aslan gazed at the approaching city after a long time, taking in the changes with his eyes.
First, there appeared what could be called city walls adorning the entrance.
It was unclear how effective they would be for defense or who would even attempt to attack this place, but there were indeed some walls that could be said to exist.
‘Is it because of the civil war?’
Considering that just recently the Calus Empire and the barony were embroiled in civil war, these walls were likely built in anticipation of such conflicts.
Olpasbet, which generally had an abundance of labor throughout the year, would have had no issues constructing them.
Another noticeable difference was certainly the significantly reduced number of visitors.
The stark emptiness was felt distinctly right from the main gate.
Recalling how many wanted to enter the city when Aslan first arrived in Olpasbet, this change was quite astonishing.
It was probably due to the civil war as well. Or perhaps because Count Scherlukunde was murdered.
Aslan observed Maria, who was talking with the captain of the gate guard, believing either possibility to be plausible.
Various words were exchanged, and Maria took hold of a purse filled with the estimated value of prisoners.
Richard, standing next to Maria, awkwardly pulled a few coins from the purse, prompting the gatekeeper to stop him.
However, after repeated offers, the middle-aged man who seemed to be the gatekeeper reluctantly accepted the silver coins and, without checking the prisoners behind him, shouted.
“Open the gate!”
Then, the heavy gate slowly opened with a thud, thud sound.
Prison City Olpasbet. A prison where no one in history has ever escaped, claimed to be impossible to break out from.
At that moment, Aslan was feeling some emotions.
“Wow… I’m back here again.”
A girl with scarlet hair whispered beside him, and Aslan nodded in agreement with her words.
Olpasbet. A city of prisons, a remnant of law and order. Aslan looked at the city he revisited after a long time, feeling an inevitable sense of longing.
Just as the journey on Eternal Dominion began here, so did Aslan’s journey.
The fact that he returned to this place was almost a sign that Aslan was doing well, and he felt a certain quiet satisfaction about it.
The difference was.
“If it weren’t for this rags and this damned collar, it would have been better.”
As the girl said, it was the mana restraining collar around his neck and the rags draped over his body.
“It’s refreshing, it feels nice. Anyway, the little one isn’t using mana or anything.”
“Does that even matter? I’ve got this crappy thing around my neck.”
The one chuckling was Tiamat. Clad in barely enough leather to cover her upper body and wearing pants on the verge of tearing, she was a dragon.
The companions following behind Tiamat showed negative expressions, as if they could not agree with her opinion.
One of them, Phey, who exuded an expressionless aura, fiddled with the rags around her body and frowned.
“The foolish lizard doesn’t understand Phey’s feelings. Phey… lost the dress and the sword I liked. I’m just an ordinary and cute elf now. I’m not Phey.”
With a somewhat melancholy expression, Phey spoke. The elven girl, who had lost the dress and sword that Aslan had once gifted her, looked noticeably gloomy.
However, she did not appear to be uncomfortable with her situation, unlike Ereta and Lumel, whose expressions were different.
Ereta appeared to wear a look of anxiety, while Lumel’s expression blended unease with discomfort, approaching embarrassment.
Aslan suddenly turned to look at Lumel and then realized the reason.
“…Ugh, d-don’t look at me.”
Lumel’s clothing was overly revealing.
The rags could not adequately cover her fairly large frame for a woman, leaving parts of her thighs and buttocks exposed.
As she bent her body forward to cover up, her ample chest was pressed against the rags, revealing a glimpse of her skin.
So when she tried to cover her upper body with her clothes, her buttocks were clearly visible.
When she pulled the clothes down to conceal her buttocks, the outline of her cleavage and the spot in the middle of her chest became starkly visible.
Even when she pulled it down, she could not hide her healthy thighs.
“Stop looking…”
In a situation that could hardly be dubbed a dilemma, Lumel tried to hide her face with her remaining hand as if trying to conceal herself from Aslan’s gaze.
‘…For some reason, it looks lewd.’
It had an opposite effect. Covering her eyes rather made her appear more lascivious.
While Lumel was truly embarrassed, Tiamat clicked her tongue and took off her outer garment.
“Here, wear this. At least this way, you can hide one part.”
“Thank you, Tiamat…”
Lumel received Tiamat’s ragged clothing and finally managed to cover her lower half, letting out a sigh of relief.
Despite this, most of the traveling party was uncomfortable or anxious about the current situation.
However, that discomfort was something they had to endure.
Disguising themselves as prisoners for sale was the easiest way to infiltrate the city.
Of course, this was not the only method.
Finding the escape route that Aslan, Angie, Harrod, and two other prisoners whose names he could no longer remember had taken after escaping from Olpasbet was also an option.
But Aslan did not pursue that.
Despite Lumel’s pleading gaze for him to reconsider, Aslan firmly pushed forward with his plan, refusing to wear the rags as a noble.
The impossibility of finding that escape route in the mountains of Olpasbet and the uncertainty of whether it would still be intact if they did find it were reasons behind his decision.
Thinking about how the collector arrived right after Aslan escaped from Olpasbet and how the evidence against the baron was blatant, it was highly likely that the escape route had already been sealed off.
There were no other infiltration routes, and regardless of how strong the veterans were, they could not confront an entire city, making a frontal assault impossible.
So, there was only one remaining option.
The party had thus become prisoners.
With mana restraining collars and barely covered in rags.
To proceed solely according to Aslan’s plan.
Maria, chatting with the gatekeeper, returned, and the party entered the city under the escort of her guards.
The city they stepped into felt starkly desolate compared to when they last saw it.
It used to be a place where those with wealth wandered, taking advantage of prisoners, but now Olpasbet seemed lifeless and void of any essence.
The palpable desolation was primarily filled by guards.
Unlike the previous vibrant gloom of Olpasbet, they wore expressions as if they were fearful of something.
What was happening? As Aslan attempted to gauge the situation with his eyes, he noticed a man surrounded by guards approaching from a distance.
A middle-aged man carrying something resembling a riding whip at his waist and holding a flail in his hand.
Upon seeing a figure that anyone could recognize as a head jailer, Maria smiled brightly and welcomed him.
“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Meland. Is this the group of…?”
“Yes, these are the prisoners brought for sale. We captured them wandering in the Bandit’s Forest.”
“Hmm, prisoners… but the composition seems a bit… diverse.”
It was no surprise to capture prisoners in the Bandit’s Forest, which was rife with bandits.
What was strange was the composition.
With scarce elves and dragons mixed in, and more females among the prisoners, the head jailer frowned, seemingly suspicious.
“Indeed. Is there a problem?”
As a royal of a kingdom, one could not press the issue with a woman possessing significant influence over the entire northern continent.
Ultimately, he forced a smile to hide his discomfort and spoke.
“No, there are no problems. I will take over from here.”
“Thank you. May I take my leave then? I would like to enjoy the city a little.”
Casually leaning against Richard and smiling sweetly, the woman prompted the head jailer, who returned her soft smile and bowed his head. It was a clear act of submission to Maria’s intentions.
“Of course. Please enjoy the city.”
As the head jailer bowed and straightened up, Maria quickly cast a glance at Aslan before disappearing into the city.
Once the guards following behind vanished, the head jailer licked his lips and led Aslan’s party.
His threats were trivial, directed to ensure they didn’t attempt any funny business, emphasizing how he had seen many like them.
Aslan attempted to appear begrudgingly compliant without letting on too much, satisfying the head jailer’s whims, and he guided Aslan’s group to their cell without any further incident.
The cell they reached was nearly indistinguishable from the one Aslan had previously visited.
Sturdy iron bars embedded in rock and an indiscriminate scattering of passages, with weary prisoners slumped or barely catching their breath.
Once they entered that dreary scene, the head jailer fell silent and retreated, while the guards stepped aside to return to their duties.
With the absence of attentive ears, Aslan sighed and turned.
“What’s wrong, Ereta?”
Throughout all the paths and conversations, Ereta had been wearing a constant look of anxiety.
As if something inevitable was approaching.
Ereta flinched at Aslan’s question, biting her lip and shaking her head before stopping.
“Is something wrong?”
At Aslan’s inquiry, Ereta glanced up slightly. The tightly-fitting rags around her body accentuated her thighs, and her expression was one of distress rather than anything sordid.
“I… I don’t know. I just feel anxious, like something is off….”
It was a vague statement. It made Aslan’s expression one of confusion.
For a moment, he wondered if it were merely luck’s reaction, but that could not be the case.
Recalling Ereta’s game stats, she was not particularly lucky.
Perhaps, just like the poison-spitting dragon swallowed giants, she worried that even a spider might be swallowed. Just a nebulous thought, Aslan sought to comfort her at that moment.
“Hey, rookie.”
Tiamat’s voice echoed as a commotion broke out outside the cell.
with the sound of a heavy gate opening, a multitude of footsteps followed.
If it were merely travelers entering, the guards would not have appeared so anxious, yet the guards outside held their weapons tightly, clearly apprehensive.
What was coming? As Aslan peered into the passage leading to the gate, he soon understood the reason.
A procession of sorts walked along the exposed corridor.
At the very front of the procession stood a figure that was exceedingly familiar to Aslan.
Having appeared in the game, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize them.
An old man draped in a tattered surcoat resembling that of a sorcerer, adorned with dark armor shaped like a humanoid skull underneath.
On his back, he bore a magnificent flail and shield, walking with an air of grace and madness palpable on his face.
Aslan recognized who that old man was.
Not only Aslan, but Ereta also recognized him.
A woman at the bars was gripping the bars with trembling eyes, staring at him.
“The Artist.”
The words escaped her. It was a word that only Aslan, standing close by, could hear, truly whispered from her lips.
Just as she said, that old man was indeed the Artist.
The high priest of the poison-spitting dragon, which served as the cornerstone of the current catastrophe.
Aslan watched the procession of priests and followers following him with a nod.
He presumed that the anxiety that Ereta felt stemmed from this encounter.
That thought was soon simply dismissed.
As the priests and followers advanced, and the Artist’s procession gradually moved away, the rear of the group became visible.
In the back, primarily filled with carts and such, there were several cages.
Among them, there was a cage made of white steel.
Inside that cage was something.
Something that even Aslan could not immediately recognize, so damaged it appeared.
It was something that harbored burning flames within its form.
It possessed a translucent white body, blatantly displaying those flames.
It had many legs and was divided into what could be described as three large masses.
So, it could be said.
“Oh my, you…?”
It had to be the flame-spitting spider.
Listening to the words that leaked from Ereta’s mouth, Aslan carefully observed the creature struggling within the cage.
With all its legs severed, only the flickering flames roamed its body—the size of a large dog, an evil deity.
Reduced to a state where it could barely be recognized, even without its divine essence, it writhed in the cage.
Having abandoned its divinity to save its daughter, the evil deity had descended upon Geladridion and ultimately fallen.
Ereta’s eyes trembled fiercely, her breath becoming ragged as the cage slowly receded.
By the time the cage vanished beyond the corridor, Ereta clutched her chest and staggered before collapsing.
