Ereta’s body collapsed to the ground. With a thud, the sound of her body hitting the floor echoed, and all the members of the traveling party turned their heads to look at Ereta.
Unconscious and fallen, Ereta lay still, seemingly shocked by what she had seen, as she remained motionless in a faint.
Leaving behind the eerie wailing of the fire-casting spider, Ereta faintly lost consciousness and did not awaken even as we moved further away.
Aslan glanced alternately between Ereta and the procession, clicked his tongue lowly, and spoke.
“Lord Lumel, please check on Ereta’s condition. Tiamat, Phey, come here and assess them.”
“Assess what?”
“Equipment, status, numbers—anything!”
Phey blinked twice while looking at the procession, and Tiamat clicked her tongue and closed her eyes.
Between Phey’s murmurs and Tiamat’s calm counting of numbers, Lumel’s voice calling out to Ereta could be heard.
“Ereta… Ereta! Come to your senses!”
Lumel was shaking Ereta’s shoulders, trying hard to wake her up, but Ereta remained limp and unmoving.
Aslan briefly glanced at such an Ereta and gripped the iron bars tightly due to the unexpected appearance.
Not long after, when the procession finally disappeared from sight, the dragonkin and the elf finally spoke.
“All are well-armed. They seem to be priests or devotees. And this smell… it’s a torch made with lime and sulfur.”
“The numbers are considerable. There must be at least fifty. Moreover, their steps are heavy and exude a great deal of pressure. They’re all well-trained.”
Consecutive reports. Upon hearing these reports, Aslan lowered his head with a sorrowful expression and leaned it against the iron bars. The coldness of the iron flowed through his heated scalp.
“Hell, priests, carts, fifty men… damn.”
The situation was dire. Through the information relayed by the group, Aslan had guessed the purpose of the Artist.
The Artist clearly seemed to have come deep into Olpasbet to find something.
The torches made with a mix of lime and sulfur were for exploration in damp spaces where poison gas had accumulated.
The fifty or so trained priests and followers were likely there to deal with any monsters they might encounter while exploring the depths.
Through all this information, one fact became clear.
The Artist was searching for Judgment.
The Artist had come to Olpasbet to find it.
And the Artist knew that Judgment was the only thing that could stop them.
‘Valerie…!’
There was only one other entity besides Aslan who could have all this information.
The daughter of the goat, Valerie, who somehow knew about Aslan being Lee Hyun-woo.
Holding the iron bars, Aslan clicked his tongue lowly. A crackling sound echoed as the iron bars trembled slightly.
“To suddenly have to change our objective like this…”
Suppressing the rising frustration, Aslan sighed.
Originally, Aslan’s plan included smuggling white steel to craft equipment for his companions.
Considering the extremely sturdy and excellent properties of white steel, merely equipping everyone with armor made from it would significantly increase the group’s survival rate.
Even in the game, during this main quest, it was common practice to equip oneself with white steel gear.
However, now, Aslan felt the need to completely abandon this plan.
It was none other than the existence of the Artist.
How quickly the Artist could find Judgment was unknown, but it was certain that it wouldn’t take long.
The biggest obstacle in exploring the depths of Olpasbet was the poison gas left behind from the death of a deity.
Taking into account that the high priest of the End Basis, who is immune to poison and can spit it, was personally leading the search, finding Judgment would not be difficult at all.
If we linger, we risk being preempted.
Then we’ll end up having to fight a much stronger Artist.
Since they aren’t the type to rely on tricks like Ash, they will surely prepare various tactics based on their overwhelming power and challenge us to a fight.
In that case, Aslan’s chances of winning would diminish.
It was truly the worst-case scenario. Feeling the need to revise the entire plan, Aslan sighed.
The original plan was as follows:
Enter as prisoners, and once Maria secures enough supplies in the city, receive those supplies through Catherine, whose stealth capabilities surpass even Phey’s, despite lacking in attack and ambush abilities.
Using the supplies and equipment thus obtained, Aslan, who knows the depths of Olpasbet well, would lead the way to secure Judgment.
This plan had a few issues, though minor ones that weren’t really problems originally.
First, this plan could only be used once. After Aslan’s group disappears, suspicion would inevitably fall on Maria, who betrayed them.
Considering that the plan could only start after Maria and Richard leave Olpasbet, this plan couldn’t be reused after execution.
That is, there would be no more supplies or equipment after the plan was carried out.
Second, this plan takes a lot of time to execute.
Securing equipment secretly and gathering supplies would take even longer.
Herein lies the problem.
Aslan had to find Judgment before the Artist does.
Thus, there was no leisure time; neither could he prepare thoroughly nor make meticulous preparations.
Aslan leaned his head against the iron bars and closed his eyes. Various thoughts raced through his mind.
‘Should I rush in with minimal supplies?’
No, the depths of Olpasbet are far from easy, even with minimal supplies. Considering the possibility of encountering the Artist along the way, it would be dangerous.
‘Should I fight the Artist head-on?’
No, since the strength of the Artist is currently unknown, rashly confronting them could result in significant losses. If even one member of the group dies, the overall strength would decrease considerably.
‘Or should I pursue the Artist from behind?’
This might be the best option so far, but ultimately, I must maintain a distance close enough to intercept Judgment as soon as they find it while keeping a safe distance from the Artist.
Recalling that most of the opposition are priests, this wasn’t realistic. While they require less rest, our side would become exhausted and worn out without proper breaks.
Most importantly, since we don’t know when or where the Artist will enter, it’s impossible to decide rashly.
Which plan to choose, or whether to devise a new plan altogether—Aslan hesitated as time continued to pass, bringing the moment closer.
Dong, Dong, Dong!
The bell tolls at intervals. The labor bell ringing for the prisoners. Opening his eyes, Aslan sighed deeply.
“Ah…”
At the same time, Angie sighed as her cell door opened, and the guards entered from outside. Watching the carts being wheeled in by the guards, Aslan shook his head.
‘There’s no time to think.’
The guards distributed picks and weapons, forcing the prisoners into the mine shafts. Aslan watched this with deep irritation in his eyes.
The group, confused and trying to figure out what was happening, was observed by Aslan, who supported the fallen Ereta.
“That bell is the labor bell. It means we have to go into the mine shafts to do some mining.”
“Mining?”
“They want us to dig up some white metal pieces.”
Tiamat asked, and Angie answered. Angie looked at the mine shaft familiarly.
Because only Angie had experience, she appeared to be preparing something amidst the group that was at a loss on what to do.
“Aslan said we need to mine some white steel. There’s a quota, so we need to go and dig a bit. Phey, you go with Angie. Tiamat, you go with Lord Lumel. I’ll take Ereta.”
“Why Angie?”
“Phey has excellent perception. Tiamat is similar. Lord Lumel just needs to dig where Tiamat indicates.”
Lumel blinked awkwardly, and Aslan nodded slightly to him, gently shaking the supported Ereta and added,
“We need to keep a low profile until the plan is finalized, so don’t stir up trouble unnecessarily. Just focus on meeting the quota.”
Ereta didn’t wake up. Aslan looked at Ereta with pity and gave a nod to the group.
“It’s not that hard. We’ve done it a few times already.”
Though Angie sounded confident,
“Ugh… I don’t know about the kid, but this old man is done. Old man doesn’t do labor like this…”
“I’ve never held a pickaxe before. Will I be okay…?”
Lumel and Tiamat each expressed their concerns with worried faces and awkwardly scratched their heads.
They clearly didn’t want to do it, but Aslan shook his head as if to say there was nothing he could do.
Eventually, they gave up and picked up the picks dumped from the cart and headed toward the mine shaft.
As the dragonkin and the woman entered the mine shaft, Phey waved goodbye to Aslan heading toward another mine shaft.
“See you later!”
With Phey’s cheerful farewell in the background, Aslan supported Ereta and entered the mine shaft.
*
Fortunately, it wasn’t too difficult. Whether it was because Aslan was proficient in all sorts of skills or because his luck stat had reached the level of precognition, it was unclear.
Aslan quickly completed the quota for two people.
He even considered digging more in case others hadn’t dug enough, showing how much leisure time he had.
However, before he could act on that leisure, someone woke up. The eyelids that had been gently closed began to glow pink in the mine shaft, causing Aslan to stop his swing of the pick at the vein.
Ereta slowly opened her eyes and looked around. Despite being surrounded by dirt on all sides, the woman showed no signs of confusion, blinking her eyes before raising a sad expression.
Aslan addressed her.
“Ereta.”
“…Asl…an.”
“Are you okay?”
“Okay…”
A simple worry without any additional words. Ereta seemed to want to answer that she was fine but opened her mouth only to close it again shortly after.
“Mother, go…”
Clearly, she wasn’t alright.
Pulling her legs close, soft skin was revealed, but there was no sign of impure thoughts. The scene she had witnessed earlier was simply too shocking.
We had anticipated that something might happen to the spider.
But reality had far surpassed our assumptions.
After all, it wasn’t conceivable to see something treated like livestock or beasts locked in a cage, dragged around like that.
Especially when its legs had all been cut off, leaving it wriggling like a pill bug—it was impossible for Aslan to associate this with the ancient evil deity.
A scene that evoked sympathy even from someone unaware of its nature as an evil deity. Even knowing it was an evil deity, Aslan had momentarily felt compassion.
If Aslan felt this way, how must Ereta feel?
Thinking of this, Aslan glanced at Ereta, who was hugging her knees with tears welling in her eyes, staring at the ground.
Looking as if she might burst into tears at any moment, Ereta distorted her innocent features and let the tears flow down her cheeks.
The large droplets of tears falling matched the size of her big eyes, rolling down her knees.
Seeing Ereta like this, Aslan couldn’t think the spider deserved its fate.
In truth, Aslan was not someone who could possess such cruelty.
For even if it was the end of an evil person, seeing such misery would inevitably evoke sympathy.
Sighing, thinking that this compassion might ruin things someday, Aslan caught Ereta’s gaze as she raised her tear-filled eyes to look at him.
The emotions entangled in the gaze that met his. Aslan stared back, yet the woman couldn’t utter a single word.
Even seeing Aslan’s compassionate face, Ereta couldn’t bring herself to ask for help to save her mother.
Because her mother was an evil deity, and she herself was a priest.
Priests always said that all evil deities must die.
Recalling Aslan, who repeatedly preached this, Ereta couldn’t bring herself to ask for salvation.
Even if he agreed to save her, what would happen afterward?
Ereta knew her mother well and understood what her mother intended to do.
From this, it was evident that her mother could not escape the death decreed by Aslan.
She had to save her mother herself.
But how?
As Ereta hugged her knees and cried, Aslan looked at her, guessing her thoughts.
To the extent that she requested a magical tattoo from Frida to avoid burdening Aslan, Ereta didn’t want to inconvenience him.
Even if her judgment was unreasonable, she didn’t want to cause trouble.
Ordinarily, he would have told her it was fine, hugged her softly, and consoled her, but this time, he couldn’t.
Because, as far as Aslan knew, the fire-casting spider was an evil deity.
An unquestionable evil deity.
A monstrous deity symbolizing the end of the universe.
Aslan believed all evil deities must die, and there could be no exception for the spider.
This was Aslan’s rule, the rule that allowed him to remain Lee Hyun-woo.
If he crossed this self-drawn line, he would no longer be Lee Hyun-woo.
So far, Aslan had mercilessly killed every enemy that came his way.
He had not tolerated any evil acts before his eyes.
He had never spared an evil deity or a priest within reach.
There was no reason for the spider to be an exception to this rule.
Even if he decided to spare it, what then?
Would he rehabilitate it and turn it into a benevolent deity?
Aslan knew very well that this was impossible.
Aslan pursued humanity and believed in it but did not blindly trust it out of complacency.
Even if some evil deities were relatively human-like, they were still evil deities.
Their existence was created solely for the destruction of the universe.
While complete rehabilitation might not be entirely impossible, achieving it through mere human actions was unlikely.
Therefore, the spider had to die.
Choosing the lesser evil to avoid the worst was Aslan’s way.
And Aslan thought,
When Aslan decides to kill the spider, how will Ereta react?
In the city of wizards, she had said it was okay to kill, reasoning that since the spider had taken so much, it was fair for it to lose everything.
But whether she could actually stand by that belief at the moment of truth was uncertain.
What if Ereta stood in the way?
What if Ereta tried to protect the spider?
What if she pointed her axe at Aslan and tried to kill him?
What if she became a priest again?
What would Aslan do then?
Lee Hyun-woo pondered this.
A fleeting thought passed, and Lee Hyun-woo was certain:
If Ereta chooses her mother, Aslan must kill Ereta.
But he didn’t want to.
More fundamentally, he didn’t want to fight at all.
Conflict was exhausting.
Death was repulsive.
Fighting was frightening.
Yet, necessary actions had to be done.
Aslan wasn’t shameless enough to look away from what only he could do.
As always, after much deliberation, Aslan returned to the starting point and thought:
If it comes to that, painful as it may be, a choice must be made.
Having made the decision, Aslan spoke.
“Your mother… I can’t save the spider.”
Ereta quietly lifted her eyes to look at Aslan.
Her emerald eyes lacked any hostility, filled only with fatigue.
Her expression was heavy with pain and anguish, and her downturned eyes hinted at regret.
Yet beneath it all was a clear resolution.
Ereta realized what Aslan hadn’t said and clenched her lips.
Several emotions flickered across Ereta’s eyes.
Guilt, apology, affection, betrayal, frustration, disappointment.
All mixed together chaotically, overflowing to soak her knees.
Ereta looked at Aslan through her tears, and Aslan met her gaze.
Because the fluctuations in emotion were so intense, Aslan hesitated before speaking.
“I will kill the spider.”
A softer tone, but the content was painful for Ereta.
As Ereta clutched her knees tightly and cried, Aslan averted his eyes to the sky covered in dirt.
Fixating on one corner of it, he sighed.
“But… I’ll allow you to talk to the spider before it dies. I’ll give you sufficient time for your farewell.”
“Why?”
A voice clouded by crying. A heart-wrenchingly painful voice. Aslan bit his lip. Seeing this, Ereta felt even more distressed.
She felt like she was troubling Aslan.
Caught in this chain of mutual distress, Aslan finally said,
“It’s all I can do for you.”
Ereta raised her head. Her tear-streaked face was red, and she wore a complex expression.
Unable to articulate anything, the woman gazed at Aslan, locking eyes with him.
“I promise.”
A breathless utterance. A desperate effort not to drift away. A tender word floating softly.
Upon hearing it, Ereta looked at Aslan and realized she shouldn’t say what she wanted to say.
So she closed her mouth.
Even Aslan, who already knew the content, pretended not to notice.
He simply spoke.
“So, stay by my side.”
Contrary to how it sounded, it wasn’t a particularly romantic statement.
With Ereta silent, only Aslan’s sigh echoed in the mine shaft.
