[Completed Main Quests]
[! Audience with the Emperor]
[Repel the Priest and Survive]
[Escape with Angela Tail]
Aslan briefly glanced at the system window floating in the corner of his vision and sighed, exhausted from fatigue and pain.
How had things come to this? His shoulder tingled from blocking the last attack, and his whole body felt as heavy as lead.
To make matters worse, he’d used up almost all his mana, leaving very little remaining. The flow of mana circulating through his body had drastically decreased.
Aslan leaned on his zweihander like a cane and looked at the path left by the axe.
The red trail stretched out before him like a red carpet – an grotesque red carpet made of corpses and blood, something he’d never imagined stepping on in his life.
Aslan bit his lip and tightly closed his eyes before reopening them.
The child and their mother who were split in half by the flying axe, their bodies intertwined, filled Aslan with rage.
But Aslan had made his choice.
To survive.
If he died now, everything would be meaningless.
Suppressing his emotions, Aslan muttered softly.
“···We need to run.”
No one objected to these words. There was no need to, as each person was already assessing the situation with their own senses.
“What… what the hell is that thing…?”
Even Angie, upon seeing the destruction caused by the thrown axe and realizing the danger of the high-ranking priest, swallowed hard.
Harrod, demonstrating his skilled warrior instincts, recognized the woman’s threat and kept his tail low.
As the three pairs of eyes landed on the woman, she simply smiled and approached.
As Aslan stepped forward to meet the advancing high-ranking priest…
“Kk.”
He winced at the stinging sensation in his ankle. A glance downward revealed blood soaking the ground from his reopened arrow wound.
Apparently, the injury he’d taken from an arrow had reopened while blocking the previous attack.
Aslan wore an expression of frustration.
Escaping in time with this ankle would be impossible. At the very least, they needed some means of escape.
Finding that means would also be difficult with this injured ankle. Aslan quickly judged the situation and spoke.
“I’ll take care of the priest. Secure our escape route and method. A horse, carriage, anything will do…”
Mid-sentence, Aslan stopped speaking and widened his eyes. The woman had crouched down dramatically and was charging toward them, sprinter-style, drawing two short weapons from her back.
A handaxe and warhammer. Even at a glance, the two deadly weapons crackled with flames.
The woman wasn’t heading for Aslan, but for Angie.
“Angie!”
“Damn it…!”
Realizing this, Angie drew the spear she had slung across her back. The thick and long spear was closer to a glaive than a traditional spear. With it in hand, Angie charged straight at the woman.
Clang!
And they clashed.
Dodging Angie’s powerful swing by leaning to the side, the woman brought down her handaxe.
The curved edge of the axe caught the spear shaft. When Angie tried to pull it free…
‘Not coming loose?!’
The superior strength of her opponent – far greater than Angie’s own. The overwhelming strength held the spear firmly in place. As Angie looked up in surprise, the fiery hammer came rushing toward her.
Whoosh!
Depending on her instincts, Angie leapt backward awkwardly, losing her balance but managing to evade the hammer.
Just as Angie breathed a sigh of relief, the hammer in mid-air changed trajectory and struck the spear shaft.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
The jarring sensation traveled up her arms. Her grip tore apart, and the spear fell to the ground. As Angie raised her arm to block…
Thud, Crack, Bang!
The swift warhammer didn’t give her any time, striking her side, head, and jaw in quick succession before retreating.
At the moment Angie collapsed, Aslan rushed in.
“Harrod, take care of Angie! I’ve got this!”
Shouting these words, Aslan drew one of the paired swords of the emperor’s bodyguard and raised his zweihander in his right hand. Behind him, Harrod appeared, scooped up Angie, and moved away.
The woman, Ereta, looked sequentially at the approaching Aslan and the retreating Harrod before smiling and extending her handaxe.
Aslan’s zweihander blocked the swinging handaxe. Piercing forward to block the attack, Aslan watched as Ereta spun her hammer in her left hand and swung it upward in reverse grip.
Woosh!
The upward strike was fierce. Chasing it with his eyes alone was a struggle, but Aslan managed to dodge with a stroke of luck.
Clang!
The rising hammer stopped mid-air and swung sideways, aiming for his temple. Aslan immediately raised the paired sword to deflect it.
Crack! Sparks flew wildly. Through the sparks, Aslan saw the incoming axe. He swung the tilted paired sword toward the axe.
Zing!
When they collided, Aslan instinctively winced. Blocking with the limited mana available was burdensome.
But if he didn’t block, he’d die. Determined, Aslan channeled his remaining mana to strengthen his arm.
Even with his wild magic-enhanced strength, he was still being overpowered. Grinding his teeth, Aslan parried invisible attacks and dodged those he couldn’t block.
Ereta’s assault was purely powerful. Overwhelming speed and force – not something level 4 Aslan could withstand.
Still, Aslan applied all his combat techniques and martial arts knowledge to block, maintained his fighting spirit through sheer determination, and dodged by luck.
But limits always arrive.
The moment Aslan deflected an attack with his zweihander, Ereta’s lips curved into a smile.
Crack!
“Khh…!”
The right arm holding the zweihander shattered. The arm crushed by the hammer bent unnaturally, then was severed by the rising axe.
As the severed arm floated in the air, Ereta mocked him.
“There’s no way you can keep blocking my attacks with such a slow weapon. Well, let’s finish this!”
The woman swung her axe. The arm was severed, the ankle pierced, and movement was severely restricted.
Even in this near-death situation, Aslan curled the corners of his mouth upward. Sweating profusely and enduring the pain, he said,
“I let you have that. You damn bastard.”
Aslan extended his severed arm and sprayed blood. The blood obscured the woman’s vision. For less than 0.1 seconds.
But it was enough time.
More than enough time to cast a spell.
“Equalization!”
As the words were spoken, the tattoos glowed.
Equalization was typically used by variant school wizards when they needed to maintain test subjects longer or urgently ‘repair’ them.
It had a high failure rate, and even when successful, the intense pain made it unsuitable for human treatment.
A magic that evenly distributes the degree of damage throughout the entire body.
A dangerous magic that could potentially cause complete bodily collapse upon failure.
Except for Aslan, who had maxed out his magical artifact proficiency.
Aslan’s entire body faintly glowed, then his ankle and arm returned. The piercing wound on his ankle disappeared, and the severed arm reappeared as if regenerated from dust.
Inversely proportional to this, wounds appeared all over his body. But it didn’t matter. Clenching his teeth, Aslan extended his regenerated right arm behind him.
‘Call Thunder.’
The palely glowing arm received all the remaining mana, strengthening it.
Gripping the fist tightly, he thrust it forward swiftly before Ereta’s axe could reach him.
The moment Aslan’s fist struck Ereta’s abdomen, a thunderous roar echoed.
Rumble!
It was thunder.
With the thunder, the woman was sent flying.
Flying quite a distance, she collided with the ground, rolled once, and crashed into a building.
The building crumbled amidst clouds of dust. Breathing heavily, Aslan picked up the zweihander clutched in his severed arm.
“Did we get rid of her?”
As Aslan turned to run toward the main gate, Harrod asked this. Shaking his head painfully, Aslan replied,
“No, she won’t die from just that. She’s probably still alive.”
Considering the deity she served, there was no way she would have perished. Placing Angie on Harrod’s shoulder, Aslan signaled and ran toward the main gate.
“How do you plan to escape against an opponent like that?”
“We need to requisition something urgently. Maybe we can find a horse to ride…”
As Aslan answered Harrod’s question, an ominous sensation like standing hair on end caused him to duck while crossing the drawbridge.
Crack!
A handaxe passed between his shoulder and head.
The flame-imbued handaxe cut through the drawbridge chain and embedded itself in the milestone before the main gate.
The burning milestone. Seeing this, Aslan clicked his tongue. Turning his head, he saw the bloody woman just in time. Despite being several hundred meters away, she was slowly limping toward them.
Though her legs appeared broken and torn during her flight, bleeding profusely, they were regenerating.
There was no immediate pursuit possible in this condition.
Even so, despite the several hundred meter distance, the pressure was terrifyingly strong.
Aslan looked around and spotted a stopped carriage.
Nodding hastily, Aslan climbed aboard. Harrod threw Angie into the cargo area and followed suit. The owner standing nearby made an “Eh?” sound.
“Master, here’s for you!”
Aslan tossed a money pouch to the carriage owner and grabbed the reins.
“With that, buy yourself a better carriage and better horses! This one is mine now!”
As the confused owner muttered “Eh?”, Aslan tightened the reins and shouted,
“Let’s go!”
The owner standing beside him alternated his gaze between the money pouch and the carriage, wearing a dazed expression, as the carriage rapidly moved forward.
Though the creaking carriage wasn’t in great condition, the horse obeyed the commands of its reins and galloped.
The wobbling carriage gradually distanced itself from the city.
As they began moving away from the immediate threat, Harrod, catching his breath, asked,
“Is this alright? The carriage belongs to the owner…”
“If we stay longer, more people will die and get hurt. This is the best option.”
Aslan glanced back while holding the reins and gritted his teeth.
“Besides, the money in that pouch is worth much more than this carriage and horse.”
“Hmm, is it really okay to spend that much money…”
“It’s better than dying. Money isn’t more important than life.”
Deciding he wouldn’t accept further objections, Aslan drove the carriage at full speed. Accelerating, the carriage gradually sped up and soon completely left the city behind.
Watching the city shrink to a dot in the distance, Aslan clenched his teeth tightly.
*
The carriage driven by Aslan stopped just before the horse collapsed from exhaustion.
However, this stop was not voluntary.
Rather, it was forced upon them.
The carriage was blocked by about thirty soldiers.
Harrod saw their armor gleaming under the moonlight.
Plate cuirasses, chainmail, long shields, and quality spears and swords.
Typical veterans, with excellent equipment.
On that fine equipment, without exception, a red droplet pattern was painted.
An unknown crest, but clearly indicating nobility.
They must have entered another territory. Thinking this, Harrod didn’t lower his guard.
Regardless of Aslan voluntarily getting off the carriage and raising both hands.
While preparing to leap out at any moment, when Harrod gripped his weapon, Aslan shouted to dismiss such attempts.
“Harrod, lower your weapon!”
This gave the warrior pause.
So far, Aslan’s choices had always been correct, but surrendering weapons while surrounded went against ‘Claw’s’ pride as a fighter.
However, the hesitation didn’t last long. Ultimately trusting the judgment of the veteran fighter, Harrod lowered his weapon as he stood up from the carriage.
Standing up to his full height of two meters, the towering figure caused the soldiers to follow with their gaze and aim their weapons.
Aslan observed the soldiers’ actions and felt relieved.
Feeling relieved, he looked beyond the soldiers in front of him.
Though obscured by darkness, the man riding a horse dressed in splendid robes despite the dimness was unmistakable.
Aslan knew this man well.
Likewise, this man must recognize Aslan.
Thinking that the commander likely identified him from hearing his voice when stopping Harrod,
Aslan took a step forward with confidence. As he approached, a soldier thrust a spear toward him. The sharp tip stopped just before his throat.
A situation where killing would be extremely easy. Still, Aslan silently gazed at the man beyond the darkness.
Then the man raised his hand.
“All units, lower your weapons!”
The spear was withdrawn, and the soldiers uniformly lowered their weapons in perfect synchronization.
Amidst the metallic sounds, the mounted man smiled.
“Long time no see, Aslan.”
Well-trained soldiers responding instantly to their commander’s orders.
The man who personally trained these loyal soldiers from scratch greeted Aslan.
“Have you been well?”
“…Not particularly. You know how it is with veterans.”
“That’s true.”
Aslan chuckled awkwardly, then the man turned his horse slightly into the moonlight.
The face revealed belonged to a steadfast man standing on the border between middle age and old age.
His eyes were dark, but his hair had hints of reddish-brown.
He wore luxurious fur-decorated armor, and a simple yet frequently used shortsword hung at his waist.
A man who anyone would recognize as a warrior stroked his brown beard.
The Marquis of Calus Empire’s frontier and the empire’s top martial expert.
Marquis Vivarus.
‘Fortunately, he arrived in time.’
Aslan exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing the nobleman.
The marquis looked at Aslan and asked,
“So, what brings you here in the dead of night?”
Relaxing somewhat, Aslan answered.
“Sorry to bother you, but could you hide us for a bit?”
This made the marquis’ eyebrows twitch.
