“Duel… is that what you mean?”
“Yeah, a duel.”
Lumel asked curiously, and Aslan responded lightly. Seeing Lumel’s puzzled expression, Aslan began to talk about the history of the Northern Empire.
To put it simply, the Northern Empire consisted of those who claimed to be the successors of the Ancient Empire.
And their ancestors from the Ancient Empire were, in short, a nation inclined towards violence and combat.
It was natural for them to be warlike since they had established forward bases on the northern continent and devoured the entirety of the southern continent.
This was evident just by looking at the fact that their main deity was the god of war and knowledge.
Naturally, the emperors of such an ancient empire had to be strong.
As the emperor held the highest position in this violent and battle-oriented nation, their martial prowess had to be the greatest in the empire.
This could be seen clearly by considering the Last Emperor of the Empire, known as the Supreme Divinity’s Sword.
Thus, the Northern Empire, which claimed to be the successor of the Ancient Empire, demanded strength from its emperor according to tradition.
This was likely still the case now.
Some traditions are not easily changed after all.
Even if they were the beneficiaries of improved monsterization, called the “blessed ones,” the royal battles they engaged in could only follow the logic of power.
In such a situation, the only way to resolve power struggles with minimal casualties without going to war was through duels.
That was why Aslan mentioned that Lumel’s role was most important here.
Unlike the typical duels of the northern continent, the Northern Empire-style duels did not allow proxies.
The only exception was the general, who was considered both the emperor’s sword and the embodiment of the emperor’s military might.
Right now, the “emperor’s sword” stood in one corner of the inner courtyard, wielding a shining golden spear and the famed imperial sword.
“So, this was what you meant.”
“That’s right.”
Lumel muttered solemnly with a dignified face, while Aslan acknowledged his words.
On the other side stood a group of ragged warriors and a towering man.
He was none other than Red Mane.
A hirsute giant with hair of an odd hue between crimson and red.
A warrior who frequently challenged Baldur to duels, only to be repeatedly rejected but continued to come back.
A warrior wielding an enormous greatsword, whose eyes gleamed with greed.
When Aslan and Lumel looked at the man, he chuckled heartily and slung his greatsword over his shoulder.
With the soldiers surrounding them, their gazes poured in, prompting Aslan to glance briefly at Lumel.
“What should we do?”
Lumel asked with a dignified expression tinged with subtle caution.
Cautiously gripping his spear and revealing tension, Lumel awaited a response.
Aslan shrugged upon seeing Red Mane, who didn’t appear particularly impressive.
Just a big brute with no signs of special mutation or divine power in his body.
The greatsword also seemed rather ordinary.
Although Aslan hadn’t yet seen Red Mane’s monstrous form, he didn’t feel that Red Mane was a priest.
Of course, overconfidence wouldn’t help. After pondering for a moment, Aslan said,
“If he turns out to be a priest, Phey and I will intervene, so don’t worry.”
Though the possibility was slim, even if Red Mane was a cunning priest capable of deceiving Aslan’s senses, there would be no problem.
Phey’s speed was known to surpass that of most priests.
Aslan believed he could intervene before any harm came to Lumel.
Even if public opinion turned against them afterward, Aslan wasn’t about to sacrifice a comrade for mere opinions.
With that assurance, Lumel shook her head as if worried.
She faintly suppressed a smile and stepped forward.
At her movement, Red Mane, who had been waiting patiently with his greatsword slung over his shoulder, also stepped forward. They approached each other until they stopped at a respectful distance.
The clamor among the warriors quieted down, and Red Mane gazed at Lumel with greedy eyes as he spoke.
“Are you the general?”
“Yes.”
Lumel replied indifferently, but Red Mane appeared unconcerned and scanned her up and down.
Her ample physique hidden under her cloak and Anton’s magical dress, along with her dignified expression that didn’t match her appearance, caught his attention.
Red Mane observed her silently with an intrigued look before muttering,
“What a waste.”
Lumel didn’t react.
Silently holding her spear, she stared at Red Mane, whose gaze lingered on her emotionless eyes before he softly smiled.
“Why would someone like you serve under someone like Baldur? He’s famous for not being much of a man.”
An obvious provocation. It was clear that Red Mane hoped Lumel would lose her cool and charge in.
But Lumel, who felt nothing for Baldur, remained indifferent. With that reaction, Red Mane smirked and added,
“If you come to me, I’ll give you twice what he promised and show you what a real man can do. How about it?”
The vocabulary wasn’t crude, but the implication certainly was.
Finding no reason to respond, Lumel stayed silent, and Red Mane, receiving no reaction to his supposed provocation, shrugged and relaxed.
“Tch, too calm. Boring.”
Chuckling, Red Mane loosened his shoulders as if disappointed and licked his lips with his tongue before planting his greatsword into the ground.
Perhaps some truth lay in his earlier words, which briefly crossed Lumel’s mind as Red Mane began to transform.
Creak, crunch, snap!
Flesh twisted, bones cracked, and joints stretched unnervingly. His long red hair gradually extended and sprouted all over his body.
After a brief transformation, there stood a truly monstrous beast with a genuine red mane.
Notable indeed.
A red lion standing nearly three meters tall, larger than Tiamat, covered in fur and adorned with four horns atop its head.
A unique hybrid of two distinct creatures.
Clad in armor, gripping a heavy greatsword in one hand, exhaling growls, the hot breath dissipated into the air, leaving trails of white vapor before fading away.
Truly a creature deserving the label of “monster.”
As Lumel stared up at this figure and gripped her spear firmly with a cold expression, Red Mane spoke with a resonant voice.
“Well, whatever. Let’s see how obedient you’ll be after I knock you down.”
Smirking darkly and repositioning his greatsword, Red Mane in the form of a lion prepared for battle.
Lumel glanced at him silently, then subtly shifted her gaze toward Aslan.
Aslan met her eyes and shook his head lightly.
A nod indicating he wasn’t a priest. Lumel slowly redirected her gaze back to Red Mane and adjusted her grip on her spear.
As she positioned herself, Red Mane contemplated what would happen next.
Upon winning the duel, how he would defile her.
How he would taste her ample body and what he would do with it.
Unfortunately, none of that came to pass.
Precisely sixteen exchanges later, Red Mane collapsed, his entire body riddled with holes.
Coming to his senses, he found himself lying in a pool of his own blood.
Amidst the scattered piles of his severed arms, he looked up into a pair of quietly observing hazel eyes.
Cold and merciless, as if staring at an insect.
“More?”
The delicate voice emanating from those pale lips was as merciless as her gaze, prompting Red Mane to absentmindedly drop the greatsword he still clutched.
“I… I surrender!”
Later, Red Mane praised his own wisdom.
*
Within the space created by the Veil of Mercy, a distant world.
Close to its boundaries, in a fortress, a certain Green entity sat shackled in the infirmary.
A few fires burned quietly in dish-shaped wall heaters, their warmth dispersing the fortress’s chill, rippling through the infirmary.
But Green wasn’t merely sitting idle.
Whoever the patients were, Green freely bestowed mana and treated them without hesitation.
Most were monstrous warriors severely injured in battles against nearby forces, unable to regenerate further.
Despite their altered bodies, vastly different from humans, Green treated them without prejudice or fear, allowing the healed warriors to return to the battlefield.
Moving so effortlessly that they seemed entirely unharmed, the warriors no longer feared seeking treatment.
Because of this, none of the fortress warriors guarded against Green.
Even the monstrous warriors closest to the one who brought Green here trusted him.
They often approached him affectionately, calling him teacher.
Bringing smoked fish or meat, or sometimes vegetables freshly picked, Green realized his treatment was quite good.
Considering Green’s true identity as a watcher, this level of trust was unwise.
However, Green wasn’t generous enough to point that out daily.
Renowned as the best in the empire in restoration arts and among the top three swordsmen in the empire.
The watcher, Resham, collected information while waiting for the opportune moment.
About four weeks after being captured, Green, as usual, treated patients while listening carefully to information.
While stitching and reconnecting the arm of a monstrous warrior that wouldn’t regenerate, using mana to fuse it together, the warrior struck up a conversation with another beside him.
About the ‘newcomers’ attacking this time, mentioning a name alongside the story.
“Apparently, they’re part of Baldur’s forces. They suddenly brought in several outsiders as strategists and grew rapidly. Rumor has it they have a beautiful woman wielding a golden spear as their general.”
“Hmph, so what? They’re just outsiders. A general without blessings boasting around doesn’t mean much…”
The monstrous warrior with a bull’s head snorted, clutching the arm Resham had just stitched.
As the bull-headed warrior laughed, his clothes fluttered slightly.
The wolf-like monstrous warrior in front shook his head and added,
“It seems that’s not entirely correct. This general isn’t ordinary; despite lacking blessings, she’s defeated and subdued several blessed ones in duels, bringing them under her banner.”
While Resham listened attentively, stitching the thick arm skillfully with a needle,
The rapid expansion of the faction wasn’t particularly remarkable, but Resham, as a watcher, knew that these individuals influenced by ’empowerment’ were not easily defeated.
Anyone capable of defeating them was undoubtedly extraordinary.
As Resham started weaving flesh together with a light restoration magic, the wolf-like monstrous warrior winced and said,
“They’re growing to rival the monsters of Krabrige and the Knights of Leranda. With famous names involved, it seems they aren’t something to be dismissed easily.”
“Famous names?”
“Red Mane, Blood-soaked Axe, Bear Tamer, Lucky One, Lightning-struck Fisher… You know, most of the ones along the coast.”
Resham recognized the names.
Titles set by Northern Empire standards for various warlords.
All warriors strengthened by the influence of empowerment, most of whom had explosively expanded their power.
If all of them had been forced to kneel in duels, they were certainly not to be underestimated.
Perhaps within this, Resham thought, lay a clue to escape.
In contrast, the bull-headed warrior showed indifference until the next name was mentioned.
“Moreover… General Slayer Aslan is also rumored to be among them.”
“…General Slayer? That madman? They’ve managed to recruit such a dangerous character.”
The bull-headed warrior immediately frowned seriously.
Seeing the serious expressions of his companions, the wolf-like monstrous warrior grinned proudly but paused mid-sentence.
“…Wizard?”
Resham, who had been stitching the arm, stopped and turned his head to look at them.
“Why are you stopping? There’s still more to stitch…”
Turning around, the wolf-like warrior saw Green with a grave expression, silver eyes glowing faintly, holding the sword that had been at his waist.
The softly glowing tattoos and piercing silver gaze, combined with the intimidating glint of the long sword reflecting the firelight, pressed down on them without any threat issued.
The wolf-like warrior shut his mouth, while the bull-headed warrior instinctively placed a hand on the weapon at his waist.
It was a mistake.
The hand resting on the weapon was the very arm Resham had just treated.
As Resham’s silver eyes swept over the armed hand, the connected limb detached cleanly and rolled across the floor.
The limb fell without shedding a single drop of blood.
The two warriors looked at their rolling arm in confusion before raising their heads. Resham asked them,
“You mentioned Aslan?”
Watcher Resham sensed an opportunity in hearing the name of a renowned veteran after so long.
