The method the Artist intended to use. It wasn’t much different from the method Aslan had used when he sought out the formless one in Cardi.
If there was any difference, it was that the side taking the lead had changed.
Aslan had once drawn out the long-forgotten divine power and purity of this world to find the formless one in Cardi.
Drawn by that unfamiliar divine power, priests and followers had revealed themselves, and Aslan had hunted them down.
So, it was clear that the Artist was using a similar method.
How or why the idea came to mind wasn’t clear, but such things weren’t important.
What mattered was that the Artist was trying to uncover the Verdict using fire-weaving spiders.
Once an evil deity who had fallen into obscurity, these creatures were now being used to track down the strange divine presence.
It was akin to releasing a dog with a keen sense of smell to search for something.
Considering that the fire-weaving spiders had no resistance to poison, the chances of success weren’t very high, but for the Artist, it probably didn’t matter.
Success would be good, but failure wouldn’t be disappointing—because it would cost the spider its life.
Aslan distributed white steel armor he had taken from the guards among the traveling party and prepared to descend into the mine.
Fire, antidotes, rations, spare armor, extra water, and even white chalk to mark the way down—all preparations were swiftly completed despite the ongoing rebellion.
But Aslan had neither time to hesitate nor wait; he had to move as quickly as possible.
Issues arising from the rebellion or matters after it weren’t as important compared to what was about to happen immediately.
The real problem would arise if the spider found the Verdict.
The method by which the Poison-Spitting Dragon had devoured the giant.
Even though it had only consumed one corner of the three evils, it had gained power comparable to other evil deities.
That secret was none other than the divinity of the ancient gods.
In the mode where Aslan had briefly played, the player could strengthen themselves using the divinity of the ancient gods, just as the Artist was strengthening the evil deity.
How or why it was possible wasn’t important.
What mattered was that if the Verdict were consumed, it would grow beyond Aslan’s ability to handle, becoming the basis for the apocalypse.
The birth of an overwhelming god that not even other evil deities could restrain—a powerful evil deity emerging that understood humanity, comparable to the Veil of Benevolence.
It was the worst-case scenario leading inevitably to catastrophic consequences.
While it wasn’t certain whether that rule had fully entered Geladridion, assuming the worst was necessary to prevent it.
Not even other evil deities could stop such an act because they existed in separate worlds and couldn’t directly harm each other.
That all evil deities still existed despite the possibility of stopping it if they could was proof enough.
Thus, Aslan alone could block it.
Ironically, the means to prevent all this was also the Verdict—or rather, the power contained within it.
With that in mind, Aslan took up a torch and a sword and headed toward the mine, followed by the traveling party, who carried their own torches and weapons as they descended.
Deep within Olpasbet. The colossal cave formed from the remains of a god welcomed the group with its vast maw open wide.
Thick poisonous fumes coiled in the darkness, and occasionally, the living beings hiding within emitted eerie cries as they fled the light.
The tunnels stretched so far that they could hardly be called mines anymore.
Unlike typical mines blocked by piles of dirt on all sides, this place extended infinitely in every direction, welcoming the travelers like arms spread wide across an unfathomable depth.
It was a landscape that seemed to have turned the inside and outside of the mountain upside down. The strangely protruding trees along the winding paths left a striking impression.
At first glance, it looked less like a cave or mine and more like a misty forest trail in a hillside.
Given the potential for misunderstanding, Angie spoke up.
“Uh… did we come back outside?”
Some in the group looked up at the sky upon hearing her words, wondering if it was true.
A scene resembling a moonless night filled with thick darkness.
The towering ceiling above, making it seem like the sky, added to the illusion.
Its height, invisible to the eye, resembled the heavens, confusing human senses.
It was understandable to make such a mistake, especially with the thick poisonous fumes obstructing their view.
However, this was not the outside.
Shaking his head, Aslan quietly replied.
“No, this is the real Olpasbet.”
“…Are you saying this is underground?”
“Yes, Mr. Lumel. This is the deepest part of Olpasbet.”
The deepest depths of Olpasbet, already located within a mountain and thus underground, harbored a massive cavern carved out by the god-killing poison melting the floor and the divine remains.
Within its vast expanse, dark enough to resemble a moonless night, Aslan led the bewildered group deeper.
Navigating the highly toxic tunnels, they approached a pool of poison neutralized by the god-killing toxin.
Crossing through the dense poisonous fumes that even blazing torches couldn’t burn away, the group pinched their irritated noses and continued down the mine.
After descending for quite some time, Aslan suddenly stiffened before stopping.
“What is it? Why are you stopping, kid?”
Tiamat’s worried voice. Without answering, Aslan silently recalled the sensation drumming heavily in his mind while sweeping his tongue over the roof of his mouth.
The heartbeat thumping rhythmically. A sensation tapping along his spine in sync with the beat—not pain or touch but a higher-dimensional premonition.
It was luck.
A warning delivered in a way different from usual responses.
Not a sign of impending death but a premonition warning against some wrong move. Stopping abruptly, Aslan slowly turned his head to look behind him.
“Why are you stopping?”
Tiamat, who had asked again, was now wearing armor and covering his nose, unlike earlier when he had shed his outerwear upon entering.
Glancing at Phey next, Aslan noticed a similar reaction. Phey, with an uncomfortable expression, covered their mouth and scanned the surroundings.
Their appearances gave Aslan a thought: Tiamat, whose detection was rendered meaningless by the clothing, and Phey, whose detection seemed impaired as they nervously looked around.
‘Why aren’t there any traces?’
Of course, the mine wasn’t a single path. There were several routes leading to the deepest part, but none of them were completely isolated.
They intersected in several places, and there were common chambers where all the tunnels converged.
Yet, there were no traces in any of those places.
Even if the Artist were meticulous, it was impossible not to leave some inevitable traces.
This realization hit Aslan strongly.
It was strange. Strange that not a single trace could be found. Strange that neither Tiamat nor Phey could detect anything.
Seeing Aslan’s serious expression, the group grew wary and looked around.
Lumel drew his spear and crouched into a defensive stance.
Richard blinked confusedly, unable to pinpoint the source of tension.
Ereta, axe in hand, eyes lowered, and Angie, adopting a ready position while glancing around—all members of the group showed signs of caution.
As silence broke into fragments amid the bubbling sound of the poison, Aslan thought of something.
If Aslan were the Artist, how would he act?
If the Artist knew Aslan was coming, having learned much from Valerie, how would they behave?
Setting aside how they knew, if the Artist were aware of Aslan’s approach, what would they do?
The answer came quickly.
‘If I were the Artist and knew… Aslan was coming, I wouldn’t rush down but wait.’
An Artist possessing both human traits and the strengths of a priest would undoubtedly do so.
Aslan, renowned for embodying both the words and actions of the ancient gods, would surely know the location of the Verdict or at least related information.
The Artist could deduce that much.
Having reached this conclusion, Aslan lifted his head and glared into the darkness behind the group.
Beyond the sloping path flanked by a gentle cliff, the approaching darkness swayed.
“I know you’re there. Come out.”
The darkness rippled.
The ripple became a sound.
Clang, clang.
The approaching sound was the noise of chain armor.
Contrasting with Aslan’s furrowed brow and exposed killing intent, the figure emerging from the darkness wore a bright expression.
Calm and cheerful.
Their face reflected happiness.
Clap, clap, clap.
The sound of deliberate applause. Seeing the revealed Artist, Aslan sneered.
High-ranking priests generally don’t use items not granted by their deity.
Whether this was due to pride or practicality was unclear.
Ash acted this way, as did the Dragon King and the Supreme Divinity’s Sword—high-ranking priests typically behaved this way.
Perhaps the only exceptions were the Artists and the Three Evils.
These were human-like high-ranking priests who utilized whatever tools came to hand.
The gleaming black chainmail beneath the tattered red surcoat the Artist wore was no exception.
The chainmail originally belonged to the son of Eternity and Night, the God of Thieves.
Once worn by the great merchant Blaz, this chainmail silenced all sound according to the wearer’s will—the Thief’s Sin.
It made perfect sense considering the Poison-Spitting Dragon devouring the earth-shattering giant.
That high-ranking priest must have been slain by another high-ranking priest, and their belongings naturally fell into the Artist’s possession.
Aslan thought this while glaring at the Artist, then heard the sound of footsteps rushing from behind the Artist.
Well-armed priests appeared.
Priests wielding maces dripping with poison, axes, swords, spears, and others—lesser followers equipped with armor and weapons.
Even lizard-like monsters roamed among the feet of these followers.
“Damn it…”
There were easily dozens of them. Sensing their overwhelming presence, Phey stiffened, and Tiamat cursed under their breath.
Indeed, it was as they feared.
[!– Slider main container –]
