Aslan was watching Cornil Ashuld walk ahead.
It was a proud stride, but at the same time, somewhat irksome.
As Aslan followed those steps, he could see Ilyena with just a glance over his shoulder.
Ilyena was following them from a little distance away.
—
Ilyena had come to warn those who appeared to have fallen into a trap of their own making by their own will.
This was something easily predictable, and Cornil Ashuld must have noticed it too.
—
And yet, he made no move to stop it. He didn’t even tell Ilyena to step back. Though he couldn’t be unaware that she was following, he merely glanced at the girl trailing behind and continued leading the way.
This revealed how narrow Ilyena’s standing was within the royal palace.
She likely had weaker influence than even Cornil. And yet, as the daughter of the late emperor and sister to the current one…
—
“Perfect.”
Aslan saw this as an opportunity.
He believed it would allow him to plant a favorable impression in Ilyena, who was next in line to become the empress.
With a smirk fading from his lips, Aslan looked toward the large door at the end of the long, dim corridor.
The colossal gate, which seemed not designed for humans to open, gently creaked open as Cornil Ashuld and Aslan’s traveling party approached.
“We have arrived. Please enter the audience chamber of Belus Ma’Kel.”
With a sinister smile, Cornil Ashuld spoke and stepped inside, followed closely by Aslan.
—
The first sight was a massive terrace extending from above down to beside the throne.
Like a duplex structure, the terrace embedded in the walls of the audience chamber stood heavily with stone railings.
From this terrace emanated faint sounds accompanied by ominous premonitions. Though Aslan couldn’t tell if it was due to luck or his intuition, he was certain there were archers positioned above.
“If I were in their place, I’d station archers up there and intercept.”
Judging by his own standards, Aslan memorized the positions of the terraces as he moved forward.
After the terraces came the soldiers.
Spears, swords, blunt weapons, and shields—these soldiers were fully armed, their faces hidden under helmets.
Behind the masked soldiers lay the throne.
“Hmm, so you’re the infamous regicide they speak of.”
The figure seated on the throne resembled Ilyena but bore a strange difference.
Though their eyes and hair color matched, unlike the pure appearance of the young girl, this face carried a despicable look.
This despicableness was further emphasized by his gaunt frame and confirmed by the presence of the martial monk standing beside him.
“I thought you’d look more… refined. I expected someone rougher, manlier. But you seem rather gloomy. You must’ve made many women cry, haven’t you?”
The emperor wore a mocking, sly smile.
Aslan narrowed his eyes while looking at the emperor.
“Your Majesty seems different from what I imagined.”
“Different how?”
“I thought you’d appear more… dignified.”
With a slight laugh, Aslan answered, and the emperor responded with a twisted smile, seemingly hiding his discomfort.
“Is that so? I do tend to be on the smaller side.”
The emperor twitched his lips and leaned deeper into the throne. Then, a subtle sound akin to insects crawling faintly echoed.
Aslan followed the sound, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. During that moment, a foul smell reached his nose—a stench he recognized well, one only found where insects thrived.
Harrod, sensing unease, swept his tail across the floor, while Angie frowned in discomfort. Only Aslan remained expressionless.
“Before we discuss your business here, let’s settle some family matters. Ilyena.”
At the sound of her name, Ilyena, who had been standing near the great doors, approached the emperor. Standing before him, she closed her eyes tightly and clamped her mouth shut. The emperor, accustomed to this routine, waved his hand.
“Slap!”
With a sharp crack, the emperor slapped his younger sister across the face, brushing his bangs back with a relieved expression. Without a word, Ilyena stepped aside next to the throne.
“Now that family matters are settled, let’s get to the reason for your visit. Do you know why you’ve been summoned here?”
And just like that, the emperor dismissed the incident as though it were nothing significant. Aslan stared at the emperor for a moment before answering.
“It must be because of my power.”
“Hmm, indeed. My faithful hunting dog mentioned you’re the mount of an ancient deity, is that true?”
“Yes, I am the mount of an ancient deity.”
The straightforward answer caused the emperor’s eyebrows to raise in surprise.
“You don’t hesitate. Your boldness is quite appealing. Now, let me ask again: do you know what I intend to do with you?”
Hearing this, Aslan deliberately rolled his eyes, scanning the soldiers. The emperor smiled contentedly.
“There’s no need to guard so much. I have no intention of harming you… yet.”
“…That’s fortunate.”
Feigning frustration, Aslan’s response elicited great pleasure from the emperor.
“What I intend to offer you is a proposal. The Supreme Divinity holds you in very high regard. As both the mount of an ancient deity and a veteran in combat, it’s understandable why.”
A faint sense of inferiority tinged the emperor’s voice. Despite noticing it, Aslan pretended not to. The less alert he seemed, the better.
“Get to the point.”
“Hmph, your tone doesn’t please me, but considering the glory the Supreme Divinity bestows upon us, I’ll overlook it this time. Here’s the proposal from the Supreme Divinity: if you swear allegiance to Him now and become His sword, your life will be spared.”
Internally, Aslan sneered. Though presented as the Supreme Divinity’s offer, the emperor’s manner suggested he treated it as if it were his own command—how absurd.
“The Sword of the Supreme Divinity. Someone of your caliber might even aim higher, they say.”
“…Is that so.”
“Yes, indeed. The Supreme Divinity personally vouched for it.”
The Sword of the Supreme Divinity. At the familiar title, Aslan smirked slightly. It was a name or title held by one of the Supreme Divinity’s high-ranking priests.
While merely an insect resembling a giant centipede wielding countless swords, it was still a formidable adversary in the game, difficult to overcome.
If there existed something surpassing such a monster, its monstrous nature was self-evident.
Aslan had no intention of becoming a monster. That was why he harbored this derision. However, the emperor misinterpreted Aslan’s sneer as hesitation. When Aslan opened his eyes after closing them momentarily, they brimmed with fury.
“Does that sound appealing? Then…”
“Did your god truly say that?”
The emperor flinched at the sudden change in Aslan’s demeanor.
“Did this ‘god’ really say that? That you’d turn me into a monster and expect me to comply?”
Seeing the emperor lose his words, Aslan contorted his face.
Aslan despised deities.
He despised gods who mercilessly plundered the world and killed humans without remorse. This hatred deeply colored his voice.
“Disgusting.”
Harrod twitched at the tone of voice Aslan had never shown before, and Angie watched him intently, blinking her eyes.
The emperor, observing such an Aslan, burst into laughter, which gradually subsided into intense anger. Clutching the armrests of the throne forcefully, the emperor spoke.
“Do you wish to die?”
“To serve a god like that is worse than death.”
“Tsk, is that so? What a pity. Then…”
“And.”
The emperor paused, his hand raised, as Aslan interrupted. Soldiers poised to draw their weapons froze, and the martial monk, hands resting on the twin blades at his waist, gazed steadily at Aslan.
Realizing all eyes were on him, Aslan glanced briefly at Ilyena. Seeing her bewildered expression, he smiled faintly.
“Please convey to your god that he can eat my ass.”
“…Kill him.”
The emperor lowered his hand. Simultaneously, archers emerged en masse from the terraces, and a tattoo etched from Aslan’s right hand, across his palm, and up to his shoulder began glowing.
A tattoo capable of storing and utilizing five spells at once emitted a strong mana flow.
“Shield.”
[Remaining Spells]
[Equalization] [Metal Heating] [Acceleration]
The tattoo violently illuminated, and a system window briefly appeared and disappeared in the corner of his vision. The light radiating from the tattoo surged and spun.
When the spinning blue mana formed a shape, it appeared as a massive, translucent shield.
The moment the shield hovered mid-air, arrows rained down.
Twang! Twang! Twang!
The floating shield rotated and moved, blocking the incoming arrows, which bounced off with soft pings.
“…What?”
The emperor’s prediction that three men would instantly be pierced by arrows like porcupines proved incorrect. Aslan, watching the stunned emperor, gripped his executioner’s blade and twisted his body.
The eerily glowing executioner’s blade drew attention as the martial monk stepped forward, twin blades in hand.
‘There’s no shield.’
Then it became simple. The martial monk didn’t even assume a defensive stance, perhaps underestimating Aslan.
Before even gripping the executioner’s blade with both hands, Aslan fortified his legs with wild magic.
The sensation of mana being drained coincided with his muscles and bones tightening and strengthening. Although the enhancement wouldn’t last more than a second, it was enough.
‘Call Thunder.’
Surviving a single strike was sufficient.
Rumble!
Call Thunder was originally a technique that gave powerful repulsion to whatever it struck, launching the target away regardless of size differences. Normally, it allowed for the opponent to be pushed back despite size disparities.
However, there was a peculiar aspect discovered after falling into Geladridion.
If used against something that could never be pushed back, the user would instead be launched.
The prime example of something unmovable was the ground itself.
Aslan channeled Call Thunder into his enhanced legs and forcefully drove them against the audience chamber’s floor.
Crack!
The ground sank beneath the pressure, marble shards flying everywhere. In the elongated perception of time, Aslan steadied and aimed his executioner’s blade.
And then he accelerated.
BOOM!
CRASH!
Accelerating beyond recognition, Aslan focused solely on one task: aiming the blade accurately.
“Khhk…!”
The martial monk, loosely holding his twin blades, suffered a deep slash across his side, spilling internal organs. Broken vertebrae prevented any reaction as the monk collapsed to his knees.
“What, wha, what?!”
Soldiers hastily drew their weapons, while archers debated whether to target Angie and Harrod sheltered behind the shield or Aslan himself.
Meanwhile, Aslan re-gripped his executioner’s blade.
Priests, especially martial monks, were undoubtedly monsters surpassing humans.
But they weren’t invincible, and human vulnerabilities remained critical points.
The 5kg executioner’s blade wielded by the combat veteran was far beyond what the injured martial monk could block or evade.
SCHUNK!
The precisely delivered executioner’s blade split the monk’s neck, lifting his head clean off. The severed insect-like head rolled across the floor.
Aslan muttered quietly as he watched it roll.
“You should’ve stayed vigilant.”
Had the monk assumed a defensive stance, the acceleration from Call Thunder alone wouldn’t have inflicted fatal damage.
Instead, they underestimated Aslan based on his earlier display.
The result was merciless.
Aslan, noticing the taut bowstrings of the archers and the soldiers approaching faster than humanly possible, grabbed the emperor by the nape of the neck.
“Choke.”
The emperor, his throat seized, was thrust forward, serving as a human shield in front of Aslan.
Aslan briefly glanced at Ilyena before shouting.
“Unless you want to add another record of an emperor being assassinated by the same man twice in the empire’s history, drop your weapons!”
Ordinarily, this would prompt weapon disarmament.
Aslan held the emperor’s neck, and the emperor’s body blocked the angle of arrow fire.
Yet the soldiers advanced. Archers kept their bows taut, aiming their arrows at Aslan.
Aslan sighed briefly upon seeing this.
“I knew you’d do that.”
Feeling the insect carapace at the base of the emperor’s neck beneath his grasp, Aslan sneered.
—
