Aslan faced his own memories.
It had been a long time since he’d dreamt, a normal dream where no evil deity appeared.
The backdrop was a castle blanketed by an emptiness of snowfall, a mere echo of unconsciousness devoid of meaning or intent.
It seemed like a mental vacation.
For a moment, one could think as much.
Just as he was about to enjoy the tranquility of the dream’s scenery, if only something hadn’t appeared, the mood might have lasted longer.
When thick snow soaked his shoulders and whitened his black hair, Aslan saw someone standing beside him.
A woman with dark hair and pale eyes, bearing a semblance similar to his own appearance.
“Astrid.”
Her name was Astrid.
She was Aslan’s friend, a companion during the brief period they spent together in the Northern Empire.
The moment Aslan saw her face, he realized this dream stemmed from a memory he once experienced.
They stood side by side gazing at the horizon. Over the vast snowy plains stretched a shimmering white barrier.
The trace of power unfurled by the Veil of Mercy, a distant world.
The barrier dividing the northern and southern continents, a place where the remnants of the ancient frozen empire were vividly present.
Astrid was a woman who harbored the ambition to restore that distant world.
“Friend, have you never thought it would be nice if the Northern Empire became a warmer land?”
She was someone who openly displayed her ambitions without pondering their possibility or feasibility, adjusting her fur cloak over her mage robe while making such remarks.
Every time Aslan heard her words, he encouraged her, saying it was possible, and she would smile gratefully.
She was a cheerful person.
Even as a royal mage, she was someone who enjoyed mingling with others.
In his eleventh year, Aslan found solace and comfort in her cheerfulness.
Though he hadn’t stayed in the Northern Empire for a long time, he had wished there were more people like her in Geladridion.
Until recently, Aslan had thought so.
“This… is it a dream?”
Thus, Aslan realized he was dreaming.
Simultaneously, knowledge and information flooded his mind.
Recalling that knowledge, Aslan tightened his cloak against the nonexistent cold.
Shivering from the unfeeling chill, he thought: why did Astrid become a priest?
Was she always a priest?
If so, why did she become friends with me?
The questions that arose had no answers, and the lingering presence of Astrid beside him brought sorrow to Aslan.
With a troubled expression, Aslan sighed and looked at Astrid.
Aslan understood why he was having this dream.
Because the real Aslan was now facing the forces of priests.
The forces that avoided confrontation with Aslan and his group.
During the process of eliminating those forces, Aslan would meet Astrid again.
Recalling this fact, he sighed.
Rejecting the dream.
At that moment, Aslan rapidly awoke from the dream.
With a troubled expression, Aslan opened his eyes inside a tent.
Tiamat and Richard were sleeping nearby, their snoring filling the tent.
Quietly rising so as not to wake Tiamat and Richard, Aslan stepped outside wearing only Steamfalos’ wings over his fur clothes.
Outside the tent, it was the dead of night.
The moon, tilting downwards, seemed to descend before his eyes and slowly touched the horizon.
In the slanted view, beyond the tent wall, lay the distant world.
The great line dividing the north and south continents.
The death of space-time and the cosmic death of solidified cheese.
Aslan looked at it and remembered Astrid from the dream moments ago.
And he thought:
Perhaps Astrid abandoned humanity because of the immense power of that thing.
Trying to erase such thoughts, he sighed and turned around.
What caught his eye was the command tent still lit up with light.
Approaching the tent where bright light leaked out, someone suddenly peeked out from inside.
“…Ah.”
A woman with chestnut hair braided thickly over her shoulder, her similarly chestnut eyes sparkling.
It was Lumel.
Seeing Aslan, Lumel exclaimed and glanced around.
There was no one watching, no one eavesdropping.
No need to pretend to be a general. Without further thought, Lumel grabbed Aslan’s arm and pulled him in.
Before Aslan could react, he was dragged inside, where Lumel greeted him with a bright smile.
Not a smile meant to lift someone’s spirits, so Aslan immediately managed his expression and forced a smile.
“Lumel, what are you doing up so late?”
In response, Lumel scratched her cheek and gestured toward the table with her eyes.
“Just… couldn’t sleep, so I was looking at the map. We should also prepare for tomorrow’s march.”
True to her words, a map of the southern part of the Northern Empire was spread out on the table, reproduced with considerable detail.
Understanding, Aslan nodded, and Lumel looked at him with a gentle smile.
“Anyway, what were you doing, Aslan? It’s quite late…”
Trailing off, she asked. Aslan knew he couldn’t answer honestly and forced another smile.
“You look troubled. Is something worrying you? You look… very sad…”
Surprised by the added comment, Aslan blinked.
He wasn’t usually expressive.
It wasn’t something easily discernible.
Yet, realizing he had been seen through, Aslan showed a mixture of surprise and embarrassment on his face before quickly erasing it.
Could this really be described as simple empathetic ability?
While Aslan momentarily pondered this, Lumel took a step forward and stood right in front of him.
“If you’re comfortable, would you tell me? I’ll listen.”
And the words flowed.
Eyebrows bent with doubt and concern.
Looking at Lumel’s face gazing up at him, Aslan realized hiding it would be meaningless.
The story that came out was vague but clear.
That her friend had become a priest, or perhaps had always been one.
And that this friend would now be in the Northern Empire.
That they would likely meet, and she would have to be killed.
Hearing this, Lumel wore a bewildered expression.
Watching Lumel’s face, Aslan smiled faintly.
“It’s not something you need to worry too much about. I’ve been prepared for it. That’s just how Geladridion is.”
Aslan well knew the darkness of Geladridion.
How that darkness increased tragedies, how tragedies created priests, and how priests recreated the darkness, a chain reaction he knew all too well.
The mana of the descending dawn made Aslan speak, and he added:
“Still, sometimes I think… If I don’t point out that Geladridion is wrong, no one else will. If I don’t do it, no one will. And that… is sad.”
This sadness arose anew upon seeing Astrid.
The conviction that only he could accomplish this task, that without him, Geladridion would never change, gained over twelve years of life.
Sitting awkwardly in a chair on one side of the command tent, Aslan smiled sheepishly.
“So you don’t need to worry. You don’t even need to understand.”
Aslan said that.
Because the listener, Lumel, also wore an expression of not understanding.
An expression of not understanding Aslan’s statement that the world was wrong.
Someone who had never encountered a proper world and thus couldn’t even imagine it.
Seeing Lumel’s expression, Aslan shook his head with a bitter smile.
“It’s just… nonsense I’m saying because I’m half-asleep.”
Attempting to take a step back, Aslan was met with Lumel’s steady gaze.
“It’s not nonsense.”
Though Aslan himself called it nonsense, to Lumel, it was the most honest truth of Aslan.
Lumel may not have fully grasped Aslan’s meaning, but she could feel the sincerity.
Aslan was afraid and sad.
Perceiving the emotions embedded in his melancholy expression, Lumel finally spoke.
“It’s not nonsense… Aren’t you sad and afraid?”
“I would be, too.”
Lumel said this, sat across from him, and gently reached out to hold Aslan’s hand.
The hand of the Dragon King covered in black scales.
A permanent trace of loss devoid of any warmth.
Holding it, Lumel sensed that Aslan had gone through this many times.
His casual tone of voice carried a sense of familiarity.
Proving this familiarity, Aslan replied:
“Maybe. But it’s fine.”
“Why is it fine?”
“Because I won’t fall just because I’m sad and afraid.”
A declaration that humans don’t collapse just from sadness and fear.
But also a testimony that he truly couldn’t shake off these feelings.
The moment Lumel perceived this familiarity, she couldn’t help but ask:
“If you’re so sad and afraid, how can you confront it?”
Aslan pondered the sincere question.
After pondering, he chuckled awkwardly.
“I don’t really know.”
“…Don’t joke around.”
As Lumel looked up at Aslan reproachfully in response to his answer, Aslan scratched the back of his neck apologetically.
“It’s not a joke; I genuinely don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
Lumel’s baffled expression and Aslan’s slightly apologetic smile.
Their eyes met at that moment, and Aslan overlapped his hands over Lumel’s.
Then he placed Lumel’s hand on his chest, where his heart was.
The heartbeat felt. As Lumel flinched, Aslan spoke.
“It’s just… following this.”
This.
Before Lumel could grasp its meaning, Aslan continued.
“Certainly, my enemy will be massive and strong. On the other hand, I will be weak and powerless. My willpower will be the same.”
“That’s not tru—”
Aslan shook his head before Lumel could finish her sentence.
Aslan had seen countless humans, insignificant compared to the evil deities, over twelve years.
Aslan knew that not everyone in the land he lived in could fully express their own will and intention.
Therefore, humans were always weak and powerless. Aslan was no different.
Aslan firmly believed this.
However.
Being weak and powerless was not a reason.
It was not a reason to succumb to fear.
So Aslan said:
“Still… because if I don’t stand against it with this weak and powerless life and will, I feel like I’ll lose something more precious than my life. That’s why I stand.”
Staring blankly at Lumel, Aslan said softly:
“Otherwise, I’ll regret it even after death.”
At least, that’s how Aslan felt.
“So even though I don’t fully understand… I still stand. That’s why I wield my sword despite being sad and afraid.”
Listening silently with a dazed expression, Lumel stared at Aslan for a long time before finally nodding.
“I’ll… remember that.”
“Thank you.” With the following words, Aslan wore a relieved expression.
“No, I’m the one who should be thankful.”
Despite the cold wind blowing from outside, the atmosphere warmed up, and Lumel smiled with her eyes meeting Aslan’s.
Thinking she had come to understand Aslan a little more.
Perhaps thinking she could advance their relationship a bit further.
That’s how it was until Aslan’s expression hardened.
“…Aslan?”
Suddenly, Aslan’s expression stiffened, his gaze fixed somewhere, and without responding, he only moved his pupils to read some text.
The text that appeared was as follows:
[Ongoing Sub-Quest]
[! Eliminate the Priest of Your Mother, Astrid of Lamentations]
[! Eliminate the Monster of Krabrige, the Priest of Your Mother]
[! Eliminate Leranda’s Knight, the Priest of Your Mother]
*
The capital of the Northern Empire, Habrisg.
In the city where the remnants of the ancient empire lingered heavily, a woman opened her eyes.
The woman with black hair trailing down slowly rose, her expression complex as she looked beside her.
There was her disciple.
The disciple she had sent days ago to investigate the deaths of beast-like monsters turned into abominations.
The disciple who had not been seen since then.
The woman was about to ask where the disciple had been when the disciple spoke first.
“What is the matter? You do not look well.”
The natural question, accurately piercing through the woman’s uneasy mood, caused her to forget what she was about to ask and open her mouth.
“…I had a dream. A dream where my old friend Aslan was killing me and exterminating our people.”
Unable to comprehend the artificial symbolism layered onto the dream, she trembled.
“But… it seemed less like a nightmare and more like a revelation. I heard the cries of my mother, and I saw divine power.”
“Mother,” the term used to refer to the one who bore her.
The disciple bowed deeply, and the woman wiped away her cold sweat with her pale white hand.
Any sense of unease disappeared unnoticed, like melting snow, replaced by suspicion.
The disciple sealed this with a final blow.
Deeply bowed, the disciple spoke.
“…Master, I regret bringing unpleasant news. The Greenskin watcher you brought has caused a disturbance and escaped.”
Turning her head to look at the disciple, the disciple continued with a deep bow.
“The last survivor of the site of the disturbance mentioned the name of Aslan, the general-slayer, before dying.”
Conflicted by the selected information, the woman was deeply confused and wiped her face again.
The disciple spoke solemnly.
“Perhaps this is a scheme concocted by Aslan. Perhaps it’s an attempt to rescue the watcher and gather information for an attack…”
A slight suggestion was enough to turn suspicion into certainty.
Certainty that drove the woman into fear.
The frightened woman let out a sigh.
“Must it truly come to this, Aslan?”
An unreachable word. Ending with that, the woman closed her eyes and spoke.
“Prepare the army. If the watcher has escaped, an attack will surely follow soon.”
Accompanied by a sigh, the disciple straightened up from the deep bow and retreated.
And the woman sank deeper into anguish.
Tormented by that anguish, she closed her eyes and failed to see the retreating shadow of her disciple wriggling.
It was her oversight.
She never noticed.
