Fortress Wearbead.
This fortress, under the ownership of a noble, was once the land where its commander and the master of the Wearbead domain resided.
After the noble’s death due to the chaos of monsters and a lesser divinity wild wizard possessing a giant’s body, along with the appearance of the deity of burial, things weren’t as they used to be, but its function remained unchanged.
It monitored those approaching beyond the borders of the Vida Kingdom, established order nearby, and arranged boat transport for the royal road to Tebery.
Despite the death of its master, Fortress Wearbead faithfully carried out its duties.
When the traveling party arrived at Fortress Wearbead to arrange for boat transport, the dim light of the dawn sun had already risen high in the sky.
A spy, seemingly sent by King Gerald, was also in pursuit. Aslan tried not to show it but tracked their presence through subtle signs.
Meanwhile, Aslan looked down at the elf in front of him.
The girl with brown hair flowing down. She had no weapon, and her usual aura of killing intent was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by an innocent expression—this was Phey.
To any observer, Phey’s appearance would raise no suspicion. It was, in fact, the result of combining dye with mana—a simple application of alchemy and minor wild magic.
With just that combination, Aslan could achieve such alchemy.
As a result of this alchemy, Phey, who now appeared as a regular elf, began her performance.
“Wow, what’s that?”
“That’s called a ship. It’s used to cross the sea.”
The cheerful demeanor of the elf was met with a response from Lumel, whose maternal affection was evident.
Their interaction resembled that of mother and child so much that passersby couldn’t help but smile warmly. Aslan thought the pursuer wouldn’t suspect a thing.
Maybe not, but there was no way anyone could deduce that this elf was Phey.
Aslan moved towards the ship moored far away, followed by the rest of the group except for Tiamat and Angie.
“I don’t want to board! I’d rather swim across! Let me go!”
“Oh, just get on quietly. It’ll hurt briefly, then it’ll be over.”
“You don’t understand, you don’t know my pain! Let me gooo!”
Tiamat’s resistance, whether feigned or genuine, was unclear.
Ultimately, Angie sighed and had to physically carry Tiamat, who reluctantly gave in to Angie’s superior strength and started crying.
While Aslan observed Tiamat’s ambiguous behavior, Ereta approached and subtly brushed against Aslan’s side with her hand while speaking.
“I feel like pretending we’re not part of the group.”
The life force seeping into Aslan’s body from her touch was an added bonus.
“…Indeed.”
Certainly, it wasn’t desirable to reveal their connection, but the effect was undeniable.
During the brief moment of boarding, the pursuer’s gaze was entirely focused on Tiamat.
In that short time, Aslan recognized some familiar faces among the pursuers and let out a sigh.
It was the moment when a secret from about seven years ago was unraveling. Aslan, without showing any emotion, gazed at the man approaching across the deck.
He was an official of the royal road, responsible for verifying the identities of passengers.
With an official air, he checked the identities of the group, starting from Tiamat, moving through Aslan, and casually inspecting the rest.
The last person was Phey.
A girl whose appearance unmistakably screamed elf. Barefoot on the deck, she was pretending to marvel at everything around her.
The official raised his eyebrows upon seeing her, evidently recognizing her as an elf.
“Miss, what is your name?”
“Huh? Melty?”
“Yes, what is your name?”
The official held a parchment and clipboard gently, looking at the girl with soft eyes. His relaxed demeanor suggested relief at dealing with an elf who couldn’t lie.
Phey hardened her false innocence amidst this sense of relief.
“Melody! You can call me Melty!”
Her cheerful smile, twinkling eyes, and the innocent gesture of raising her arms convinced the official, who nodded with a slight smile.
The ink’s movement on the square slate clearly indicated approval.
Having finished with Phey, the official moved on to verify the identities of the others. Aslan watched him leave with apparent indifference before turning away.
*
The island of Tebery wasn’t very large.
In terms of area, it was even smaller than Belus Alphen.
Nevertheless, the residents of Tebery were undeniably wealthy and powerful.
Among these wealthy and powerful individuals stood out the royal family Meland.
Maria was also part of this group; she too should have been here on this island.
However, there was no time to meet Maria.
Richard didn’t seem particularly eager to visit his fiancée either.
Considering the fact that the person he was about to meet had orchestrated the assassination of his mother, it made perfect sense.
Once someone has experienced loss, they tend to avoid similar situations desperately.
Richard was walking through this potential loss only because of his loyalty to his companions and his meticulous nature.
The young man nervously chewed his fingers, his eyes darting around anxiously. His restless feet betrayed his eagerness to move forward.
Amidst the obvious fear and haste, Aslan empathized and slowly turned his head.
There, following closely, was the surveillance agent.
“I’ve been waiting.”
The old man revealed himself suddenly. He was a hybrid—possibly resembling his mother’s lineage or perhaps bearing animal-like ears and insect compound eyes.
“I will guide you to the palace.”
This was the same person who had guided Aslan to the palace about seven years ago before selling him to the inevitability of the universe, leading him to where the priests of universal inevitability awaited.
Back then, with low luck, Aslan hadn’t realized it, but now with heightened fortune, he understood—the confident attitude back then was the result of prolonged surveillance.
Thus, upon seeing this man, Aslan deliberately scowled in distaste.
“I haven’t forgotten what happened last time. If you’re going to guide us, keep your mouth shut and do it quietly. If you open your lips even slightly, I’ll cut off your head immediately.”
The hybrid old man smiled and bowed deeply before promptly guiding the group.
So, the destination was the clearly marked palace of Tebery.
A castle shining brilliantly as if forged from gold.
Walls that resonated with the surrounding lamppost-like structures.
Not overly large but opulent.
An ostentatious place.
Yet, merely ornamental.
Aslan formed this impression upon revisiting Tebery after a long time—it seemed like a taxidermy specimen.
A dead golden glow, preserved like a trophy.
Following this drab glory, the group entered inside.
They were quickly led to the deepest part of the castle.
“…It hasn’t changed. It’s exactly the same as before.”
Ereta was right; the palace of Tebery remained unchanged from the scene seven years ago.
A fitting castle for a king who dreams of eternity.
And within this eternal castle, traversing corridors that seemed endless, they entered a massive hall.
There, Aslan faced the one who summoned him.
Platinum hair flowed backward, green eyes reminiscent of Maria. A sense of weariness and ease in his gaze, dark intentions lurking beneath.
Gerald the First, also known as King Gerald.
Gerald Mull Meland.
Older and more frail-looking than seven years ago, yet exuding an aura of charisma as he sat on his throne.
Upon meeting the old man’s gaze, Aslan noticed the lack of emotion in the piercing eyes, revealing this man’s skill in political intrigue and his true mastery of the crown.
The owner of the crown scanned the group with a slanted glance.
Then, concealing all emotions effortlessly, he addressed Aslan.
“It seems you’ve grown quite formidable. Capable of killing mythic beings.”
Internally, Aslan smirked at this reaction.
King Gerald was no fool.
According to Aslan’s knowledge, the young Gerald was intelligent enough to engage in theoretical discussions with wizards.
Such a man wouldn’t fail to recognize Richard and Ereta. One was a victim of his own creation, and the other was the daughter of someone he collaborated with and revered until recently.
Yet, he made no mention of them, implying that neither Richard nor Ereta held any utilitarian value for him.
Ereta subtly frowned at this realization, but her innocent features made her look more adorable than angry, so no one paid much attention.
On the contrary, Richard openly suppressed his rising anger and resentment, forcing himself to bow his head.
The old man showed no reaction to these emotional outbursts, and Aslan glanced at the group’s responses before speaking.
“Let’s get to the point.”
The king, leaning on his chin with a weary gaze, received Aslan’s direct answer.
“Do not assume that I have forgotten what happened back then. I am here solely because I know if I didn’t come, Your Majesty would interfere. That’s all. So, please state your request.”
Deliberately laced with clear disdain in every word spoken. Gerald calmly twitched his eyebrow.
“Since you brought it up, let me explain. The reason I summoned you is the same as why I betrayed you back then.”
Same reason?
Aslan furrowed his brow in pure curiosity, prompting the king to lazily extend his hand and speak.
“I need time and lifespan.”
A straightforward declaration despite discussing his own mortality. The old man spoke with the confidence of a king.
“There are less than ten years left. The inevitability of the universe has collapsed and become useless. Extend my lifespan, and I will offer one-fourth of it to collaborate with you. That’s the deal.”
When mentioning the inevitability of the universe, the king scoffed and glanced at Ereta. Though Ereta wrinkled her innocent face further, the king ignored it.
“What I desire lies to the north. The remains of a deity in the elves’ land. The remains of nature and creation. Bring them to me… Or something equivalent…”
“And what if you make me immortal?”
Before Aslan could finish his sentence, the king revealed blatant greed. As the glint of greed flickered in his eyes, he spoke.
“In that case, we’ll form an alliance, and I will dedicate one-fourth of my infinite life to focus on your coalition.”
“…Understood. Please wait.”
There was nothing more to question. Aslan rose to leave, but before he could turn his back, the king raised his hand.
With a leisurely motion, the doors of the hall closed.
“Huh?”
“What is this…!”
Confusion from Angie and finally erupting anger from Richard. Their reactions were drowned out by the sound of approaching footsteps.
The noise of closing doors synchronized with the clanking armor of knights. The knights, wielding weapons made of blue iron, halted in front of the door.
The king observed the bewildered faces of the group and spoke.
“Leave one behind before you go.”
Aslan, unfazed by the predictable situation, turned his head and faced the king.
Meeting his gaze with disdain and irritation, he feigned annoyance.
“…Must we really do this?”
Then, he drew the small sword tied to his waist into his hand.
The display of a combat veteran revealing hostility was intimidating enough to instill fear in anyone, but Gerald remained unperturbed and spoke.
“I see no problem with this. If you bring back what we agreed upon, there will be an alliance, and the captive will be released. Consider this a small collateral.”
Though unspoken, the implication if they failed was obvious.
Aslan glared at Gerald, who stared back down at him.
Knights armed with weapons stood ready just behind them.
Gerald’s intention was clear.
He anticipated that killing him here wouldn’t prevent the coalition from achieving its ultimate goal.
And indeed, that was true.
If Aslan hadn’t prepared beforehand, it would have been troublesome.
Aslan closed his eyes, pretending to be irritated while sighing.
Casually lowering his hand, the small sword returned to his waist.
“Melty.”
“Hmm? Why?”
The elf girl replied cheerfully. Aslan played along with Phey’s act.
“Just… stay here for a bit, okay? I’ll definitely come back for you.”
“Why? Where are you going? Can’t Melty come too…?”
Shaking his head, Aslan wore a wistful expression.
“I have somewhere to go. Looks like Melty can’t come along. Can you wait?”
“Okay, I’ll wait!”
The elf girl smiled brightly, an image impossible to doubt. Aslan naturally glanced at Gerald, trying to gauge his reaction.
There was no sign of suspicion.
No reaction from fate either.
‘Probably didn’t notice.’
Thinking this, Aslan spread his arms.
“Is this sufficient?”
The king smiled contentedly at the overt display of displeasure.
“Yes. This will suffice.”
Aslan clicked his tongue and stepped back, followed by the group disappearing down the corridor.
Only Phey followed the knight’s guidance toward a room within the castle walls.
This room, ostensibly a reception area, was closer to a detention cell.
A window 4 meters high and an impenetrable iron door characterized the space.
The knight who escorted Phey placed the girl inside and promptly left without much supervision.
Their handling was appropriate under normal circumstances.
Elves cannot lie or deceive others, so they were considered benevolent creatures incapable of fleeing.
Only Phey, being an elf who could both act and lie, was the exception.
As soon as Phey entered the detention room, she strained her ears to listen to the retreating footsteps of the knight.
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
They grew distant, fading away. Even if she ran quickly, it would take too long to reach them. Confirming this, Phey erased her cheerful expression.
In its place, a cold, blank stare remained.
“Hmph.”
Sheaving an unnecessary breath, she tousled her hair, which gradually turned bright red.
Next, she produced two small metal pins. Small enough to pick locks, she used them to tie her hair into her usual pigtails—short, curly hair barely reaching her shoulders.
Neatening her hair, Phey lifted her head to look at the 4-meter-high window.
A height unreachable by human physical capabilities and disregarded by ordinary elves as purely for ventilation.
But for Phey, it might as well have been the front door.
Bounding lightly, she gauged the distance.
Her azure eyes scanned the walls and the path toward the window.
What followed was action alone.
She leaped.
One jump soared her body 2 meters high. Twisting mid-air, she kicked off the wall with her bare feet.
Silently rebounding diagonally upward, Phey twisted her body again, squeezing herself through the small window and slipping outside.
The ground rushing toward her from a height of 4 meters was high, steep, and solid, but it posed no problem for an elf.
She performed a somersault mid-air and landed silently, leaving no sound throughout the entire process.
Standing on the ground, she immediately lifted her head to look at the distant harbor.
Turning her head slightly upward, she glanced at the sky and closed her eyes.
Listening intently.
The countless noises of the bustling city filled with human sounds.
Among them, the sounds of preparations for departure.
Calculating the remaining time until departure by listening to these sounds, Phey lowered her crouched body and dashed off.
Completely vanishing presence. An astonishing level of stealth that couldn’t be detected even by the most skilled sensing abilities.
The elf girl leaped over the castle walls.
Bounding over buildings and running along the walls.
It took less than an hour to reunite with the group on the ship.
By the time the knight who escorted Phey returned with a banquet, thinking of her like a younger sibling, the room was already empty.
When the knight rushed to report, the group had already departed from Fortress Wearbead, beginning their journey north.
All that remained was to return with the seeds of elfification before Gerald could reject and act upon it.
