After returning to Netchagni Fortress, Aslan thought it was necessary to take some time to rest rather than immediately springing into action.
Indeed, there was no choice but to rest.
Immediately, Tiamat had lost her bow. Beyond the obvious signs of dejection and deflation, the fact that Tiamat, the master archer, had lost her bow also meant a significant reduction in their fighting strength.
And even aside from Tiamat, many companions needed rest.
Firstly, Richard.
Richard, who was just an ordinary human with magical tattoos etched onto him, wasn’t sturdy enough to endure both the grueling battles at Netchagni and the assault by the Supreme Divinity’s Sword.
Lumel was in the same boat. Both Lumel and Richard, being relatively ordinary humans, still required rest—a point on which there was no disagreement.
Ereta, Phey, and Angie were fine since they possessed regeneration, but these two, who were more or less regular humans, along with Tiamat, needed rest and preparation.
For this reason, the traveling party stayed at Netchagni Fortress.
The fortress walls shattered by the debris thrown by the Supreme Divinity’s Sword, the fortress itself moaning faintly as the wind swept through.
Within this fortress, Aslan was walking alongside Lumel.
The garden inside the fortress looked forlorn due to the sparse grass growing thanks to the desolate northern winds.
As Aslan strolled beside Lumel, he suddenly asked,
“Lumel, is there anything you need?”
“Anything…?”
“Anything at all. Tiamat asked for a bow, and Richard said he’d like to rest properly. I was wondering if there’s anything you might need.”
Lumel chuckled slightly at this and attempted to shake his head modestly.
His usual humility. Just as Lumel was about to decline, he seemed to recall something and stopped mid-motion.
Silver hair flowed down his back, and a certain emotion flickered in Lumel’s innocent eyes.
“Would anything really be okay? Even something strange… would that be alright?”
Something strange?
Aslan looked at the woman with curiosity-filled eyes, and she, seemingly flustered, blushed slightly and waved her hands dismissively.
“Ah, I mean ‘strange,’ but… it won’t be too strange!”
A fervent denial. The flustered woman quickly covered her nose with her braided hair and bowed her head.
“Not really… actually, I think it wouldn’t be so strange… but maybe a little…”
“Hmm, can I hear it and consider it?”
“Well, if you promise not to laugh after hearing it…”
A fleeting look of determination crossed her face. When Aslan stopped and turned to look at the woman, she couldn’t maintain that resolve and instead let out a vague smile before speaking.
“Um… could you speak casually to me?”
“Casually?”
“Yes, when you asked me on the battlefield to gather the cavalrymen…”
Ah, you mean that.
As if realizing something belatedly, Aslan’s expression changed, and the woman smiled happily.
Her next words bordered on an excuse.
“You see, I never had an older brother. I was the eldest daughter and the firstborn… so your tone of voice felt kind of refreshing, didn’t it?”
That wasn’t exactly a fitting reason. Aslan chuckled awkwardly and responded.
“Doesn’t sound like the whole reason to me.”
“Does it show that much?”
“Yes.”
The shyly smiling woman. With a clear emotion crossing her hazel eyes, Aslan slightly lifted the corner of his mouth, and the woman, fidgeting with her braided hair, continued.
“To be honest, I want to act spoiled… Is that alright?”
This must be the real reason.
Aslan could guess why. It was undoubtedly because she had lost her family and craved familial affection, especially after Anton’s death, where she had treated him like family for a short while.
Aslan understood; he had experienced losing his family as well.
Recalling the day his father passed away in a fire and returned only as a cold urn of ashes, Aslan could empathize.
So, Aslan smiled gently.
“I’ll do it… No, I’ll do it for you, Lumel.”
Before he even finished the sentence, Lumel expressed joy with a stifled breath at the soft voice emanating from Aslan’s lips.
Seeing such happiness made Aslan briefly wonder if this was worth getting excited over, but then he remembered something.
The night he met Lewena, when Lumel had declared his intention to unilaterally fall in love.
If that declaration was still valid, Aslan understood this emotion.
‘You’re crafty.’
Wanting to fill the void of familial affection while seeking affection—though it wasn’t bad. Thinking about what she had done on the battlefield and the suffering she had endured, it was understandable.
“Would treating you like an older brother work?”
“Ah, yes. If you do that…”
“And Lumel, you can call me more casually too.”
“That… I don’t know if I can…”
Blushing red, twisting her body, and openly showing her delight, Aslan offered with a raised corner of his mouth.
“It’s alright to act spoiled. I’ll accept it.”
“Really? Would it be alright?”
A subtle heat lingered in Lumel’s face. Aslan nodded upon seeing that expression.
“Of course. Since I said I’d treat you like an older brother…”
And before he could finish the sentence, Lumel suddenly hugged him, pressing against his chest.
A sudden, strong pressure felt around the sternum. A soft yet oppressive sensation.
Though it wasn’t as heavy as the attack of the Supreme Divinity’s Sword or as overwhelming as the Dragon King’s presence, Lumel’s embrace carried its own weight.
The most recent similar experience came to mind: Angie’s bosom felt during the journey to the sanctuary of the Supreme Divinity’s fortress days ago.
A mass that posed a difficult choice for any man.
Different from Angie’s dense bosom, this one was equipped with overwhelming size and softness.
If maternal affection were expressed through touch, it would feel like this.
Aslan rolled his eyes momentarily, startled by the sensation suddenly enveloping him, and Lumel, nestled in Aslan’s arms, pressed her cheeks against his abdomen, flushed red.
This is Lumel’s softness, Aslan thought fleetingly.
Realizing the rudeness of the thought, he grasped her shoulders and gently pushed her away.
When separated, Lumel clearly wore an expression of regret.
“Ah, is it not allowed? Did I overstep?”
And she worriedly twisted her braided hair, looking sad as if wondering if she had done something wrong.
Aslan sighed upon seeing this.
“No, it’s not that it’s not allowed…”
It wasn’t forbidden, but it was awkward.
Awkward in many ways.
Unaware of this or perhaps ignoring it, Lumel appeared genuinely disappointed at not being able to hug.
In the end, Aslan had no choice but to give in. He had to endure the somewhat uncomfortable pressure Lumel delivered by hugging him tightly.
In various senses.
When Lumel finally lifted her head after holding Aslan for quite a while, her eyes brimmed with another desire.
“Um, Aslan…”
“Yes.”
“Could you… stroke my hair?”
Stroke her hair?
It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but perhaps feeling it was strange herself, Lumel added with a slightly reddened face,
“Like how you stroke Angie or Phey… I’d like you to stroke it a lot.”
A somewhat serious expression. Since it wasn’t as difficult as the hug, Aslan extended his hand and placed it on Lumel’s hair.
And he stroked it.
Gently brushing through her hair, following the strands, caressing her scalp, the woman relaxed her expression and buried her face in Aslan’s arms.
Soft breathing. The subtly lingering scent peculiar to women, trying to erase their natural aroma.
The tempting fragrance tickling his nose made Aslan blink several times while stroking her hair and quietly hummed the national anthem in his mind.
Shifting his hand from her hair to her face, Lumel looked up at Aslan with a drowsy gaze.
Looking up at him with those unfocused hazel eyes, Aslan softly caressed her face.
The ticklish sensation made her eyes brighten subtly, but soon another emotion clouded them, undeniably a form of satisfaction.
Thinking that this should suffice, Aslan withdrew his hand, but it seemed insufficient for Lumel.
She grabbed the hand leaving her face and skillfully intertwined their fingers.
“Lumel?”
“Aslan.”
No hesitation, no beating around the bush. Her eyes held a deep emotion.
As Aslan glanced at their intertwined hands, Lumel looked at them and then gazed steadily at Aslan with a mixture of shyness and desire.
“Do you remember saying I could unilaterally fall in love?”
“Ah, yes. I remember.”
An awkward response. Lumel looked at Aslan for a moment before continuing.
“Actually, what I’m doing now is part of that. I’m actively… pursuing you, Aslan. Don’t you realize?”
Upon hearing this, Aslan finally understood Lumel’s intentions.
Unlike Ereta or Angie, who lacked worldly knowledge, and unlike Phey, whose physical appeal was limited, Lumel was doing this for an obvious reason.
Most likely inspired by novels she had read.
As Aslan recalled everything and displayed a bewildered expression, Lumel moved their intertwined fingers, gently tracing the spaces between Aslan’s fingers with hers.
The tingling sensation traveled from his hand up his spine, causing Aslan to unconsciously flinch his shoulders.
“Do you understand now?”
Smiling coyly, Lumel. Aslan, his shoulders slightly hunched, involuntarily frowned as he turned his head.
He found it strange that Lumel was acting this way all of a sudden.
He could understand someone making sexual advances to someone they loved.
It was akin to showcasing one’s strengths to make the other person like them, and her proactive behavior was understandable as well.
What mattered was the timing.
Aslan believed the battle at Netchagni was closely related to why she was acting this way now.
Thus, Aslan wiped away the appearance of someone who might blush anytime soon and seriously looked down at Lumel.
Her pupils were trembling slightly under his gaze.
Her hands were trembling.
Judging by these signs, it was evident that her current actions stemmed from a human instinct to leave some kind of mark.
Aslan realized the reason late.
Anton was dead.
Countless people had died.
Among them were individuals who could be called heroes, and even Anton, who possessed magic akin to resurrection.
Lumel had undoubtedly been shocked by this.
She had undoubtedly realized that she could meet the same fate.
Having come to understand the difference between the adventures she read about in books and the true malevolence of the priests of the Evil Deity, she was undoubtedly afraid.
As evidence, a fleeting sense of confusion crossed Lumel’s eyes.
The startled woman upon realizing that Aslan had figured it out. Aslan stared at her intently, a woman gifted with talent but otherwise no different from an ordinary person, and pulled her close into an embrace.
Pulling her close, he placed his scaled hand on her back and patted it gently, while using the other hand to stroke her hair.
“It’s alright.”
He said while doing so.
“Lumel won’t die. You won’t die.”
The words Lumel wanted to hear right now.
Upon hearing them, Lumel flinched slightly, then slowly extended her hand, wrapped her arms around Aslan’s back, and buried her face.
Aslan slowly stroked her hair to help Lumel calm down.
Until her trembling subsided.
While teammates like Phey, Angie, or Richard might not think much about it, Aslan knew that other companions were likely grappling with their own thoughts and fears, much like Lumel.
Aslan understood that fear.
Lumel and the others were the same.
People from Geladridion who hadn’t witnessed the end of the world couldn’t help but be afraid.
Of the impending enormity of the enemy and the ferocity of the approaching storm.
There was no way they could have certainty.
Especially since the victory they barely clutched in their hands wasn’t complete, and it was a victory built on sacrifice.
Under such circumstances, Aslan understood why Lumel was striving to leave her mark.
Because he himself had done the same thing once.
Blinking to erase the image of Lewena’s face that suddenly surfaced, Aslan noticed that Lumel had finally lifted her head, her eyes subtly reddened.
It left a deep impression.
To Aslan’s inquiry, “Are you alright now?” Lumel shook her head anxiously.
Still unsure of something. Thinking this, Aslan listened as Lumel spoke with a voice dampened by moisture.
“In the future, I’d like you to continue speaking casually to me.”
“In the future?”
“I dislike the feeling of distance.”
Then she firmly gripped Aslan’s arm. Aslan bit his lip, appearing troubled by her words, request, and actions.
However, the answers Aslan could give were limited.
Eventually, Aslan gave in.
“Alright.”
Unable to reject the approaching kindness, Aslan liked people too much.
Lumel finally relaxed, smiling brightly. Behind that radiant smile, Lumel giggled and said,
“This feels exactly like a novel I’ve read.”
Giggling, Lumel added,
“I never imagined I’d fall in love like this… But somehow, it feels good.”
At this, Aslan couldn’t help but smile, erasing his serious expression.
Relieved by Lumel’s usual demeanor, which rendered his previous serious thoughts futile.
Apparently, Lumel felt the same, as she playfully pouted and complained, “Stop laughing!” though she clearly seemed in better spirits.
Aslan deemed this sufficient, withdrawing his attention from Lumel, unaware that he missed something.
Her playful scolding, while secretly yearning to do something with Aslan’s lips she was staring at, barely suppressing her urge.
A blatantly obvious desire.
Lumel licked her lips, seemingly regretful.
