It had happened not long ago.
Aslan, who had been with them in a temporary employment arrangement, left, and shortly after, a martial artist arrived at the encampment where the mercenaries were staying, seemingly following Aslan.
Standing nearly 3 meters tall, with six arms, half of which held massive shields and spears, the martial artist, with a gleaming exoskeleton fitting his enormous size, came with a proposal.
If they chased Aslan and brought him back, the martial artist would spare the mercenaries, make one of them a priest, and offer a reward.
But if they refused, he would kill them all.
The leader of the mercenaries, a man named Yones Tail, did not refuse the offer.
Precisely because he knew well the fear the martial artist instilled, he couldn’t refuse.
If the martial artist wished, the slightly over 40 mercenaries could be easily dealt with.
And Yones Tail realized he was right, amidst the corpses of his entire mercenary group.
“…So, didn’t I say? If you catch him, you’ll live.”
And the one standing tall among the corpses spoke.
His voice carried a faint, inhuman noise, causing an eerie discomfort to those who heard it.
But no one dared to criticize him.
Precisely because they couldn’t.
Who could complain about a voice being unpleasant to a 3-meter-tall, six-armed insectoid monster?
Considering Yones Tail was the only one left alive, there was no room for consideration anyway.
As the insectoid monster swung the spear held by three of its arms, the blood-soaked fabric on the blade fluttered weakly.
“You promised to catch him too, didn’t think you’d fail, but it’s all for the best. To be embraced by the Supreme Divinity, what an honor, isn’t it?”
The martial artist’s lower jaw clicked as he spoke, but Yones Tail didn’t respond.
The martial artist’s words had already revealed the grim reality of what being embraced by the Supreme Divinity meant.
Anyway, the martial artist’s spear moved.
“Offer yourself.”
Without a sound, the swung spear blade severed the mercenary leader’s head. Moments later, the head fell, and the body collapsed lifelessly.
Where the mercenary leader fell, headless corpses lay scattered.
The heads were all in a sack tied to the martial artist’s waist.
*
Aslan had fled.
He escaped from the Frostwood Valley, where he had clashed with the mercenaries in a bloody battle, and headed southeast.
The reason was simple.
Aslan did not want to encounter the martial artist, a priest of the Supreme Divinity, unprepared.
The martial artist and the Supreme Divinity were not ordinary priests and deities.
Although all deities and priests in this world, Geladridion, were like that.
In this world, there were two types of deities.
One was the Ancient Deities. Defeated, dead old deities who were originally worshipped in Geladridion.
The other was the Transcendents who tore apart and killed those Ancient Deities.
With the fall of the ancient empire that worshipped the Ancient Deities and ruled the world, and the rise of the Transcendents as deities, people began to call those Transcendents deities.
The martial artist was one who served the Supreme Divinity among those deities.
The monstrous deity, resembling a mix of a giant insect and a multi-eyed octopus, was originally a being devoid of reason and desire.
That being descended upon Geladridion and killed the king of the Ancient Deities, the God of War and Knowledge.
As soon as the Ancient Deity died, the Supreme Divinity immediately sucked out the deity’s brain and soul, becoming the Supreme Divinity.
The Supreme Divinity then developed an insatiable hunger for human technology.
It devoured masters who had reached the pinnacle of training to expand its knowledge and displayed the weapons those humans used in its armory.
The martial artists were solely for that purpose, and they faithfully received the Supreme Divinity’s blessings.
The insect-like, hard and powerful bodies bestowed by the Supreme Divinity, along with techniques and weapons optimized for those bodies.
The monsters imbued with the masters’ skills faithfully killed the masters and brought their heads to their master.
Those masters were called veterans, and few among those listed in the death ledger knew the truth.
And Aslan, one of those who knew the truth, had no intention of fighting the martial artist unprepared.
That was why Aslan avoided the main mercenary force.
If he spent time and energy dealing with the main force, he couldn’t guarantee victory against the martial artist who might come later.
‘Of course, if luck is on my side, I might win, but I don’t want to gamble with my life.’
Aslan felt he wasn’t ready to face the martial artist.
He didn’t have many weapons and needed to replenish his magic.
If the odds weren’t 100%, he didn’t want to fight.
He wasn’t the type to enjoy fighting in the first place.
For Aslan, there were only two places to flee.
The city of Tegar in the Tegar Barony, located east of Frostwood Valley.
And the other was the prison city of Olpasbet, far to the southeast in the mountainous region.
To Aslan, Tegar wasn’t a good choice.
The path to Tegar was mostly forest, and the roads were well-trodden, making it quicker to reach compared to Olpasbet, which was mostly mountainous.
Thus, the martial artist could easily predict Aslan would head to Tegar.
If he moved as predicted, the martial artist would catch up quickly.
If they faced off in the forest, or worse, encountered more than one martial artist, the chances of survival would be slim.
Aslan wanted to eliminate that possibility entirely.
It seemed better to take a less predictable route to Olpasbet, even if it meant more effort.
For that reason, after crossing mountains and forests, a week after leaving Frostwood Valley, Aslan entered the prison city of Olpasbet.
The prison city of Olpasbet was a city within a mountain.
Carved into the mountain, the city, perpetually dim with countless hanging lanterns, exuded a gloomy and oppressive atmosphere.
Olpasbet had many nicknames.
The city of sin, the city of decadence, the city of pleasure, etc. It was an excessive title for a city with a history of barely over 200 years.
But Olpasbet’s short history was steeped in darkness.
Entering the city, Aslan could feel it.
The scenes that began to appear shortly after entering the city made it clear.
Women flirting with passersby.
Men gathered at alley entrances, eyeing travelers and gauging something.
Children with wide eyes, staring intently at travelers’ bags.
All of them wore faintly glowing collars and tattered clothes.
That was the uniqueness of Olpasbet.
A city where most residents were prisoners and slaves, with a boiling poison swamp and nests of monsters in its depths, and mines yielding unique metals.
That was the prison city of Olpasbet.
Aslan sighed as he looked at the city.
He didn’t want to come. But with the martial artist chasing him and the need for resupply, he had no choice.
He needed to replenish his used scrolls, sell the loot he had acquired, and buy necessary supplies.
Food was also scarce, so he needed to stock up on preserved rations. In such a situation, he couldn’t just leave the city.
Thus, he didn’t plan to stay long. Aslan adjusted his bag, ignored the lingering gazes of the prisoners, and moved forward.
He intended to find a blacksmith first and delved into the city.
Aslan, ignoring the passersby, stopped not long after.
A few stalls were overturned, and a crowd had gathered. Beyond them, a commotion was unfolding.
Though there was nothing good about getting involved in such a disturbance, the crowd seemed to enjoy the spectacle, laughing and shouting loudly.
Hearing the shouts, Aslan naturally joined the crowd.
“Look at her! Moving like a rat!”
“Can’t catch her, use some strength, you idiots!”
There were other shouts, but the content wasn’t much different. The men were cheering and insulting those beyond.
Aslan, with his robust build, pushed through the crowd. The prisoners, seeing his build, armor, and weapons, readily made way.
As he broke through the crowd, Aslan saw it.
Thud!
“Ugh…”
A girl with crimson hair, resembling the city’s lights, was kicking a man in the groin.
As the man clutched his groin and convulsed, the girl stomped on his bald head.
“That, that cowardly bitch! How dare she do that!”
As another man shouted in shock, the girl laughed fiercely and shouted back.
“Cowardly? That’s you!”
The girl pointed her finger, and the man gritted his teeth.
“Three of you against me, and I’m the coward?”
As the girl said, the man’s companions, who had been kicked in the groin and collapsed, were two.
And among them was a unique figure.
“With the noble dragonkin present, you call me a coward?”
A dragonkin with red scales, a thick tail, arms as thick as the tail, tall stature, and bulging muscles, resembling a lizard.
The dragonkin frowned at the insulting words and clicked his tongue, but the girl, undeterred, picked up a stone rolling on the ground.
“Talk sense, you shameless bastards!”
The girl shouted and growled, holding the stone, as the dragonkin’s subordinate slowly approached. The girl, unflinching, raised the stone in her hand.
She was a bold, almost feral girl.
Seeing the girl, unyielding against men larger and more numerous, Aslan thought of the fierceness of a beast.
But even that fierceness seemed unable to overcome the realistic difference in size and numbers.
That was the common perception of the crowd. Though Aslan’s thoughts had one more element.
‘Should I help?’
Even if it was a fight, it wasn’t a good sight to see a girl being beaten by several men.
Aslan hesitated, knowing such an event would be hard to tolerate on Earth, where he had lived.
As Aslan hesitated, the distance between the girl and the men gradually decreased.
And when their fists and legs were about to meet.
[Ongoing Main Quest]
[! Escape with Angela Tail]
A quest window appeared before Aslan’s eyes.
