Aslan headed towards the boat under the guidance of an old man from the Northern Empire and Eric.
At Havrisg Fortress, a place Aslan had visited before, located at the northernmost point, there was a rounded coastal area. It was a place layered with cliffs and sandy beaches.
There was a ship there.
“That’s it.”
Upon hearing Eric’s brief words, Aslan looked up to see the ship.
It stood there like some immutable evidence.
‘Really… it’s the Watcher’s ship.’
The ship glowing with a blue light.
The ship glowing with a blue light, engraved with a large sun motif in intaglio.
As far as Aslan knew, this was a ship that only the Empire could create.
The green timber from the Emerald Forest in the Mareza City Union, located to the west of the Empire, was used.
Since the ship was made of wood processed magically from that timber.
There was no possibility that Aslan had mistaken it, as the material used in all personally handled ships by the Watcher was present.
The issue was why the Watcher had come here.
This was an unprecedented event in games, and something Aslan hadn’t encountered during his 12 years of wandering. Aslan pondered while looking at the ship.
There was no immediate way to find out why the Watcher had arrived.
The ship was half-destroyed, and all that remained on board were numerous corpses and traces of combat.
Thus, Aslan decided to investigate the traces as he approached the ship.
The people from the Northern Empire who followed behind anxiously fidgeted with their waists.
And as Aslan approached the ship, he realized that it hadn’t been damaged due to natural causes.
The ship was wedged between reefs as if forced into a tight space.
Surging seawater battered the hull and drained away, leaving the ship creaking with moisture and salt.
The ship, split in half, bent like a folding gangway, and the mast was half submerged in the sea.
It was a sight that no natural phenomenon could easily create.
After all, the Watcher’s ship, crafted by a first-class shipwright and glowing with a blue hue, was a masterpiece capable of withstanding any natural storm.
Likewise, the sailors aboard such a ship would surely be top-notch. It was unimaginable for them to suffer such catastrophic damage from natural phenomena.
Although detailed investigation was necessary, considering the current state of the Northern Empire, it wasn’t hard to guess what had happened.
Ultimately, close inspection would be required for confirmation. When Aslan stepped onto the collapsed hull, Eric suddenly spoke.
“My lord, are you really going to approach? There are strange beasts nearby, it’s dangerous…”
“You may leave if you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid! I am a citizen of the Empire, and citizens of the Empire are warriors by nature! I won’t be afraid of just a ship or beasts like this…”
“Then follow quietly.”
With these curt words cutting off unnecessary remarks, Eric frowned and shut his mouth, while the old man, trying to hide his frightened gaze, followed Aslan.
The massive hull they boarded, gently sloping toward the ground, bore countless traces and corpses.
Now, the bodies, decayed and frozen, left brittle textures.
Traces of both beasts and humans. Observing these countless traces, Aslan looked around.
To find the most striking trace.
After a moment of observation, Aslan turned his head toward a trace that caught his eye.
It was a clear sword mark.
Simultaneously carved into the corpse of a beast sprawled on the floor and the pillar supporting the middle layer of the hull.
A thrust infused with strength. The swing carried the weight of the entire body, yet the technique was still pristine and unrusty.
When Aslan approached the mark, the people from the Northern Empire hovered near what could be called the entrance slope, watching him silently.
Aslan knelt on one knee and rummaged through the corpse. The sword strike embedded in the frozen, brittle flesh was distinct.
‘Accurate and powerful. The skill is extraordinary.’
A single swing that cleanly halved the pillar and severed the beast’s neck.
However, it didn’t cut through the skin at the back of the neck, leaving both the pillar and the beast’s neck attached.
The sword used must have been a masterpiece crafted by a first-class blacksmith using premium materials.
Despite splitting the wooden pillar and the tough beast’s neck, not a single fragment of metal was found on the floor.
Judging by the cross-section of the neck and the wound on the skin, the sword weighed about 3kg, was double-edged, and measured approximately 140cm in length—a typical two-handed sword.
‘The Watcher.’
From just this one sword mark, Aslan realized its owner was the Watcher.
And upon realizing, Aslan’s luck and combat skills reacted.
Soon, a vision akin to an apparition appeared before his eyes.
Startled for a moment, Aslan instinctively reached for the hilt of the sword behind his back but stopped when he recognized it as a vision conjured by his own luck.
‘A glimpse of foresight, perhaps.’
Basic foresight triggered by meticulous investigation and certainty regarding identity and traces.
A mental image formed based on information perceived while deducing what might have happened from past traces.
“My lord…?”
Glancing briefly at the Northerners behind him, Aslan confirmed they couldn’t see the vision and turned his head back to it.
The vision then moved.
Following the vision, Aslan walked as if entranced.
His gaze continuously swept across the space.
A thrust infused with strength. The vision splitting the beast and the pillar, twisting its body to evade an attack.
Smashing down the sword toward the grounded beast, a corpse lying where the weight of the beast pressed against the floor.
Subsequent visions of beasts charging in. A horn resembling a deer’s tearing at the side, blood flowing from the vision figure.
The spilled blood dried on the floor. A fatal wound. Normally, this would be a situation requiring immediate hemostasis, but the vision ignored it.
While withdrawing the stabbed sword, it swung upward, and the fleeting blade cleaved the wolf-like creature with a deer’s head in two.
The bisected carcass revealed itself as the vision passed by.
In response, mana flowed.
Through the mastery of mana attained by a superhuman level, Aslan realized the Watcher had used magic at that moment.
Realizing this simultaneously, the vision also seemed to use magic.
The flow of blood from the side ceased. The trail of dried blood leading to this spot ended here, and the vision’s battle continued.
Beasts charging and killing the sailors, Green beings dying, and each other being killed while the Watcher kept moving forward, slaying beasts.
Estimating speed from the stride marks, recognizing no signs of fatigue from the hull’s damage, and gauging the amount of blood lost from the dried blood on the floor.
The sword techniques were neither insufficient nor excessive for even a moment. With appropriate relaxation and control of force, beasts were accurately slain.
The vision continued to ascend, slaying beasts, and Aslan followed up to the deck.
There, the heavy strides halted in front of the vision, and the vision lowered its sword in a standoff before obediently following.
What happened afterward was unseen, but Aslan had already gathered sufficient information.
He understood the level of this Watcher.
‘…Strong.’
The Watcher aboard this ship possessed swordsmanship comparable to Phey or Aslan—meaning they were at the final level.
The amount of blood spilled was significant. Any ordinary human would likely suspect shock death from excessive bleeding.
It equated to the blood volume of five average humans.
Yet, he continued fighting without dying.
Even the faint scent of mana lingering at the tip of Aslan’s nose testified that he could discern the Watcher as a master of restoration arts.
Such recovery was impossible with equalization alone.
Equalization merely spreads wounds evenly, creating a condition to fight immediately, but it isn’t suitable for prolonged battles—it’s a spell for managing injuries.
Restoring lost blood, healing wounds, and compensating for lost body parts—these were impossible feats for equalization.
‘These are things only possible for the restoration school.’
But even the restoration school wasn’t omnipotent.
The restoration school was generally more difficult than most magic schools.
It required deep understanding of the human body, a substantial amount of mana, and control ability to be usable.
It wasn’t a spell that could be casually cast amidst intense combat while maintaining vigilance and sensing danger.
This led to only one conclusion:
This Watcher was a top-tier expert among Watchers, capable of calmly using magic even in the extreme tension of battle—an almost superhuman individual.
That is, a valuable asset for a party.
Veteran-level swordsmanship and combat skills, the high status of a Watcher, and unparalleled restoration magic.
In gaming terms, a healer-dealer.
Traditionally, a character classified as a cleric in RPGs.
Though variables existed from Aslan’s perspective as a rare Watcher, if he were alive and compliant, it would be a good opportunity to recruit him as an ally.
‘Perhaps… in Baulder.’
There was a strong likelihood of a connection with Baulder, who had plundered the ship. Setting that as the next destination would suffice.
Lost in thought, as Aslan turned his head,
“My, my lord!”
One of the Northerners shouted loudly as they climbed the steps below the deck. Tension laced their voice with a subtle hint of fear.
When Aslan turned his head, the two Northerners were wielding their weapons—not aimed at him.
They were pointed toward the sound of howling beasts coming from somewhere.
Auuuuuuu…
Growls resounded.
The appearance of the approaching beasts was far from normal.
Beasts with bear bodies, wolf heads glowing with the same light, and reindeer legs.
Monstrous hybrids with moose legs and bodies topped with alligator heads, their eyes rolled back.
Wild boars crawling along with snake heads on their tails, emitting chilling screams.
Distorted beasts.
Beasts whose creation clearly revealed the hand of their mother.
As they filled the marshland and approached, the Northerners gasped in alarm.
“…M-monsters…”
“The war of gods…”
Some invoked deities, others cursed as if believing words could repel the approaching abominations.
Though they seemed ready to flee at any moment, they drew their weapons from their waists.
Pulling out axes, grabbing crude shields from behind their backs, and unsheathing rusty swords and daggers.
Tensing muscles that had been curled up in the cold while preparing for battle.
Aslan watched their courage and muttered.
“There’s no need.”
When the Northerners turned their heads, Aslan brushed his cloak, pulled out a feather, and held it in his hand.
“Go inside the ship.”
Though he didn’t explicitly say he would protect them, the implication was clear.
An insult that Northerners could hardly accept.
As the old man couldn’t speak due to fear, Eric flushed and spoke.
“That cannot be! Sons and daughters of the Empire do not shy away from battles! Even if you are an extraordinary warrior, my lord, this is the North Empire’s…”
Whether it was shame or anger, it was indistinguishable.
But even that stopped when Aslan glanced at the flustered Eric with his characteristic tired green eyes.
The stunned Northerner.
Aslan turned his gaze from the frozen Eric and looked at the beasts slowly encircling and advancing.
“Go inside.”
Thinking it showed some respect, Eric clenched his jaw, took the old man, and entered the small room on the deck.
The loose door creaked shut, and Aslan sighed in relief.
Beasts slowly climbed onto the deck or leaped up with incredible agility.
Aslan watched the beasts and thought.
The sudden appearance of these beasts wasn’t a coincidence.
Farther away, about half the beasts scattered and retreated along the path Aslan and the two Northerners had taken.
Clearly heading towards the village.
It was likely they guessed Aslan’s village and intended to instill pressure and anxiety.
Whoever was lurking behind this, Aslan didn’t think these were simple beasts.
“Ah, th-that! The village, the village! They’re heading to the village. My lord! Those monsters…”
“We must stop them! Let us help…”
Only now noticing the beasts’ movements, the Northerners cried out anxiously. Aslan said softly.
“Don’t worry.”
Though he didn’t elaborate further, the two anxious Northerners finally remembered Aslan’s traveling party was in the village.
“Such…”
Speechless, Aslan didn’t respond.
He simply turned his back on the room where the Northerners were, gripped the feather tightly in his hand, and murmured.
“Purity.”
Then, a roaring sound like burning flames erupted, revealing Aslan’s resolve.
*
The beasts continued running.
Rushing towards the dilapidated settlement visible from afar, drooling and groaning.
Among them, some were originally human.
Humans intelligent enough to realize that the paltry fortifications would fall easily.
Though they wore the forms of beasts, they possessed human brains.
Because of this, they quickly closed the distance.
Blindly following those with animal brains who didn’t understand,
the creatures functioned like an army, created according to the creator’s intent.
The army stormed towards the settlement like a tempest, never ceasing, exuding greed.
The greed of those with human brains among the beasts was this:
Elders and children were abundant, so resistance would be weak, making it easy to break through.
If they succeeded in this mission, they could achieve better forms.
The “non-commissioned officers” hurried their steps and panted while practically crawling along the ground.
As the stockade grew closer, they finally emerged onto the plain.
What the “non-commissioned officers” expected when they emerged onto the plain was this:
Increased frantic movement within the stockade, screams heard, and people fleeing through opened gates only to be eaten.
However, contrary to their expectations, the inside of the stockade was silent.
“What is this?”
Just as one of the non-commissioned officers wondered, an intense heat suddenly hit them.
Heat intense enough to make one involuntarily turn their head, heat harmful enough to damage the body. Naturally, the “non-commissioned officers” turned their heads one after another.
Kwaahhh!
They saw arrows flying towards them.
Arrows that seemed forged from the sun itself.
An obvious danger. The non-commissioned officers screamed and tried to stop, but ended up tripping over the beasts behind them and falling.
Thus, the clump of tangled beasts, the scene of a group collision, was struck by the plasma arrow fired by Tiamat.
―Kwaaaooouuuung!
The arrow made of mana as fuel caused a massive explosion.
It was like a sun blooming on the ground, and most of the beasts burned to death instantly.
Those who didn’t die right away writhed in agony, breathing heavily or rolling around in flames, failing to notice the approaching enemies.
And in such a state, there was no beast capable of withstanding a veteran’s attack.
When the sole surviving non-commissioned officer raised his head, he saw the golden burst of a beast’s head exploding and a golden spearhead heading straight for his face.
