Ereta and Aslan returned rather late, having poured out a quantity of white steel that slightly exceeded the quota, and were looking for the traveling party. By the time they found them, the group was already gathered, waiting for Aslan and Ereta.
The group appeared to be without much trouble.
At least Angie and Phey seemed so.
Lumel was gazing down at his own hands when he suddenly lifted his head upon sensing Aslan’s approach.
There was a faint glimmer in his eyes.
“Lord Aslan… um, it seems like mining might actually suit me.”
“…Pardon?”
Aslan drew near, only to be greeted by this unexpected declaration. Confused by Aslan’s lack of understanding, Tiamat shrugged and interjected.
“Would you believe it if I told you this young lady fulfilled two weeks’ worth of another person’s quota in just one day, and that too after working for only a short while?”
“What?”
Two weeks’ worth?
Aslan looked at Lumel with an expression filled with doubt, and Lumel met his gaze, staring at her hands as if they belonged to some kind of monster.
“I didn’t even realize… and before I knew it… it was already done…”
Though her words trailed off, Aslan was already speechless.
Considering the many prisoners who suffered due to their inability to meet their quotas and barely managed to survive, this was undoubtedly an extraordinary talent.
‘Could it be that her talent isn’t limited to spearwork?’
After all, Aslan had seen her decapitate Thor Mull with a sword the first time they met. It wasn’t exactly surprising now, so Aslan let it go.
Learning from spiral spears would likely be more accurate and easier than excelling in mining.
“You must be a genius.”
“A-ah, is that so?”
While patting the still-confused Lumel on the shoulder, Aslan slowly surveyed the group before speaking.
His message was straightforward:
An artist had revealed themselves, and their goal coincided with the group’s objective.
It was possible the artist might achieve their goal first.
They couldn’t afford to delay any longer or risk everything going awry.
However, rushing into things without proper preparation would surely result in bloodshed.
Although the explanation wasn’t simple or immediate—it required substantial prior information—the group listened quietly or asked questions about parts they didn’t understand. By the time Aslan finished speaking, everyone wore thoughtful expressions.
Once the discussion concluded, Aslan brought up a simple question:
“What should we do now?”
Rarely did Aslan seek the group’s opinion instead of making decisions himself. Though one might expect joy under normal circumstances, the gravity of the situation prevented anyone from feeling happy.
Instead, they frowned in discomfort or tapped the floor irritably with their bare feet.
When the tapping sound persisted, Angie suddenly spoke with a furrowed brow.
“Why don’t we just take them all down?”
Confused by this sudden suggestion, Aslan struggled to comprehend initially—until realizing whom Angie referred to.
“Olvasbet?”
“Yeah.”
Angie crossed her arms with an air of nonchalance and nodded toward the outside.
“Just wipe them all out, prepare properly, and head down in peace.”
“All of them?” Aslan guessed she meant the guards and wardens collectively. Realizing this, he felt the weight of her suggestion despite his awkward smile.
With strength rated at 8, Angie’s formidable power had long surpassed human limits. Considering she was nearing a special promotion, her words carried considerable weight.
Even if Angie fought all the guards alone, she wouldn’t sustain a single scratch. And even if she did, regeneration would make it inconsequential.
It was practically a risk-free operation, so Aslan saw a high likelihood of Angie’s plan succeeding. But…
“It’s too reckless.”
Such an approach would create complications they couldn’t handle later. Shaking his head, Aslan was about to speak when—
“You’re an idiot.”
“What?”
“You can only think of stupid ideas.”
“But why are you picking a fight?”
“Well… Phey thought the same thing as you right now.”
“Eh?”
Before Aslan could respond, Phey spoke first. Aslan closed his mouth and glanced at the emotionless elf who seemed slightly annoyed.
The elven girl explained while crossing her arms similarly to Angie, meeting Aslan’s gaze.
“The biggest obstacle blocking your current plan is the rules of this prison itself. So breaking those rules would be the easiest solution. Far easier than confronting a high-ranking priest whose skills are unknown.”
She was right—if not for one assumption. Aslan sighed and shook his head.
“Dealing with nobles isn’t easy. Even if it seems simple now, it will become troublesome later.”
Thus, overthrowing Olvasbet was out of the question. With unwavering certainty, Aslan voiced his decision, causing Phey to fall silent but Angie to grumble unusually.
“Can someone who killed two emperors say that?”
“…Killed emperors?”
Following Angie’s muttering came Lumel’s voice. Her wide-eyed shock turned into disbelief as she stared at Aslan.
“Twice? Both from different empires…?”
“No, twice within the same empire.”
“My goodness…”
Angie’s addition left Lumel astonished, covering her mouth in confusion. In contrast, Tiamat seemed unfazed.
“Yes, this guy was called the Emperor Slayer.”
Rather than stopping there, Tiamt added the title enthusiastically. Ereth’s cheeks flushed red in response.
“I witnessed it the first time I met him… He was on his way out after killing the emperor.”
At this revelation, everyone’s attention shifted to Aslan, accompanied by an uneasy silence.
Scratching his head uncomfortably, Aslan explained.
“It was only possible because the situation supported it. The first time, Barmanz and Calus Empire were at war, and a priest interrupted mid-battle, creating chaos. Everyone scattered, which made it possible.”
During the ensuing chaos, the fleeing emperor dismissed his guards, leaving himself vulnerable while holding a hostage in front of Aslan. Aslan still remembered the arrow meant for a knight piercing the emperor’s heart, prompting him to sheepishly admit,
“The second time was similar. All conditions aligned perfectly. The emperor lacked information about me and was complacent. Knowing his intentions allowed me to catch him off guard. But… things are different now.”
Seeing Lumel still shocked, Aslan turned his gaze to the others.
“Ordinarily, nobles, emperors, or kings aren’t easily killed unless the situation supports it.”
“So what if we just beat them and seize their position instead?”
“That won’t be easy either. Considering all the guards in this city belong to Lord Olvasbet… Unless we kill every single one of them, it won’t resolve quickly.”
If they proceeded with such actions, they’d antagonize the Calus Empire and lose a crucial ally necessary for achieving their goals. Sighing deeply, Aslan continued,
“Most importantly, I don’t want to kill people like that. It doesn’t sit well with me.”
If absolutely necessary, he’d do it, but if not mandatory, he preferred avoiding murder. Most of the group expressed surprise at his consideration now.
Regardless, Aslan wanted to uphold the ambiguous line he had drawn. Acknowledging his stance, Lumel finally spoke after some contemplation, twirling her braided hair and slowly raising her eyes.
“…That shouldn’t be a problem. Lord Olvasbet may be a noble, but he’s not an ordinary one.”
Not an ordinary noble. When the others looked at Lumel to grasp her meaning, she elaborated.
“Olvasbet’s power and titles were granted by Count Scherlukunde. This was because the ancestor of the Olvasbet family, who owned the Olvasbet barony, didn’t want to engage in meaningless skirmishes. Since then, Olvasbet has acted more like a landowner within the count’s territory rather than a vassal.”
Listening intently to this unfamiliar history, Aslan met Lumel’s gaze as she softly smiled, her gentle tone adding emphasis.
“Because of this, the Scherlukunde family doesn’t have good relations with the Olvasbet family. In fact, they’d likely seize the opportunity to confiscate their lands at any moment. Thus, even if something happens to Olvasbet, Scherlukunde probably won’t care. Moreover…”
“Moreover?”
“Scherlukunde is in turmoil following the assassination of the count. They’re likely too preoccupied with internal matters to concern themselves with this. Even if they had the resources, they wouldn’t waste them here. Therefore, I believe it won’t be an issue. Who owns Olvasbet ultimately doesn’t matter.”
An irrefutable explanation fitting the chaotic state of Geladridion, especially within the Northern Continent’s Calus Empire.
Speechless, Aslan contemplated instead of rebutting. After careful deliberation, he believed Lumel might be correct. Even disregarding these reasons, Aslan found himself drawn to the plan.
Considering his unpleasant memories associated with Olvasbet during the game, it wasn’t a place he particularly liked. Moreover, the presence of the artist left no room for delay or hesitation.
Concluding his thoughts, Aslan spoke with a somewhat reluctant tone.
“Then… is it rebellion?”
“It appears so.”
Lumel’s indifferent reply left Angie confused as she alternated her gaze between them.
“Why not just wipe them all out?”
“You’re an idiot; you don’t understand. What you’re suggesting is rebellion. We’re prisoners.”
As Phey pointed out, they were currently prisoners. Although Angie’s strength could break their shackles and grant them freedom anytime, their current status remained unchanged. Plotting the overthrow of Olvasbet from such a position constituted rebellion.
What benefits would they gain from rebellion?
Normally, gathering equipment and supplies would take considerable time, but successfully rebelling would eliminate the need for secrecy, drastically reducing the preparation period. They could prepare in half a day at most and descend into the depths afterward.
Furthermore, Maria and Catherine could provide assistance for the rebellion itself.
Acknowledging this as the best course of action, Aslan pondered, nodding his head slightly.
Perhaps this was the only way.
*
The issue lay with the artist.
Their strength remained unknown.
No matter how strong they were, they likely weren’t as powerful as the Dragon King, though even reaching Midal-level strength would be sufficiently threatening.
If discovered during the rebellion, it could lead to a major crisis.
With an adversary of unknown strength, rash actions were unwise. It might undo all their preparations.
Thus, Aslan decided to complete both the rebellion and preparations within a day after the artist headed towards Jija.
Even arriving a mere day earlier would allow them sufficient time to intercept and repel the artist or find the verdict beforehand.
Aslan was thoroughly familiar with the path to the verdict, its location, and all enemies and traps along the way.
So what needed preparation?
Power.
A force to join in the rebellion, subdue Olvasbet, and support Aslan’s descent into Jija.
In the long term, a foundation to potentially draw the Scherlukunde county into alliance.
Among all forces in Olvasbet, the Northerners were the most viable option.
On the northern continent, there existed a nation neither truly northern nor an empire—a country akin to the Holy Roman Empire. Calling themselves descendants of an ancient empire, they claimed the name Empire, and since they resided north of the ancient empire, they became known as the Northern Empire.
These were people with complex coastlines and barren territories.
People living on the edge of the northern continent across the sea, the Northerners.
To survive in their harsh and inhospitable land, they chose piracy.
Sailing across the seas, they reached the Calus Empire to plunder.
Captured or unable to escape during these raids, they ended up in Olvasbet.
Most prisoners in Olvasbet consisted of such Northerners.
Based on what Aslan had observed and experienced within and around Geladridion, he anticipated the Northerners had formed factions among themselves.
Considering these were the ones they needed to recruit for the rebellion, it was quite fortunate. Thinking they might be able to recruit them all at once, Aslan opted for tailing.
Believing there must be a hideout or meeting place somewhere, he targeted an appropriate individual for tailing.
A youth with crimson hair and green eyes, thin from malnourishment but carrying a blade-like object. That crimson hair symbolized the Northerners.
“Perhaps Angie also has Northern blood.”
Golden eyes, though rare, occasionally appeared among Northerners, making it highly plausible Angie shared Northern heritage.
During the pursuit, Aslan briefly glanced back and noticed Angie hiding some distance away, shoulders hunched. Spotting Aslan, she subtly waved.
Her waving hand accompanied by flowing crimson hair and gently curving golden eyes reminded him of colors he frequently encountered while working in the North.
Though not entirely convinced by racial or national stereotypes, Angie certainly exhibited a bold personality reminiscent of the rough Northern terrain.
Growing increasingly curious whether she truly had Northern ancestry, Aslan thought,
“One day, we should visit the Northern Empire together to verify.”
Though unlikely to uncover significant secrets about her lineage, there was a chance.
While contemplating these random thoughts and trailing the Northern youth, Aslan noticed him gradually entering a dim alley leading to a street lined with warehouses.
Under the swaying crimson glow of lanterns, the man’s hair seemed to spread everywhere.
This spreading color halted at a certain point before hastily darting into a warehouse built by excavating stone hills and setting foundations. Of moderate size yet considerable height, the warehouse seemed suitable for accommodating several people.
Certain of his discovery, Aslan signaled to the group following behind, who quickly caught up. Forming a line, Aslan swiftly approached and entered the warehouse.
Creak!
Upon forcefully opening the door, startled individuals turned to face Aslan.
“What is this?!”
“Eh, eh?”
“What are you doing here, you brat! Do you know where this is…!”
Amidst the clichéd exclamations, panic surged through the crowd. Immediately upon entering, Aslan blinked in surprise.
There were many people.
Too many.
And not only numerous, but diverse in composition.
Black skin, white skin, black hair, crimson hair, men, women—all gathered in a broad circle as if in some sort of meeting.
“…There are quite a few.”
Behind Tiamat’s alarmed voice, a deep, metallic-laden voice emerged from the panicked crowd.
“Mel, you bastard… Did you betray us?”
“Ah, no, it’s not me! There’s no way I’d betray…!”
“So you must’ve been tailed, you idiot…!”
The owner of the deep voice was a towering middle-aged man roughly Aslan’s height, likely the leader of the Northern faction. While glaring at Aslan, Aslan quickly scanned the warehouse.
There were stockpiled weapons.
Some held crude daggers fashioned from broken picks, ready to confront them.
Prepared for battle.
Others wore makeshift armor crafted from crudely processed white steel, patched over rags, as if preparing for combat.
Clearly not all were Northerners; regular criminals or individuals from other ethnicities were mixed in.
Furthermore, members from various ethnic backgrounds occupied distinct positions.
Observing all this, Aslan confirmed:
They were already preparing for rebellion.
And he was perplexed.
In the current situation, his group could only appear as lackeys of Lord Olvasbet.
Realizing this, an involuntary groan escaped Aslan’s lips.
There was no time for explanations; they likely wouldn’t listen anyway. Assuming a defensive stance, Aslan watched as the burly middle-aged man brandished a newly drawn dagger, shouting at his followers.
“What are you standing around for, you fools! Take them down!”
With that, the dagger-wielding group charged toward Aslan and his companions.
