Time flows on, despite the pain and sorrow.
Humans have no choice but to live in accordance with the passage of time.
Aslan was no different. Rising with the sun, he bent his head over the water drawn for washing.
He broke the thin layer of ice on the surface with a tap, then washed and dried his face with hands that were part black scales and part human.
It was an everyday act.
So there was no change.
If anything had changed, it wasn’t the action but the result.
Drip, drip.
The red spreading in the water as shattered fragments of ice fell into it.
Aslan looked at his reflection on the water’s surface and wiped his nose with his right hand.
Falling drops of blood.
Following the sensation of something trickling down, Aslan brushed his eyes.
His fingertips came away red.
“…Ah.”
Thus, the short exclamation that escaped him wasn’t one of great surprise.
Rather, it carried a calmness akin to accepting what was bound to come.
The ripples spreading from the falling drops of blood.
Through those ripples, Aslan’s face visible beneath was stained with blood.
Blood streamed from his nose, tears of blood ran down, and blood poured from the corners of his mouth.
Spitting out dark, dead blood into the washbasin like he was vomiting.
The sticky blood dripped heavily.
Watching it sink deep below the water in the basin, Aslan smiled awkwardly.
‘I’m dying, huh?’
It wasn’t a newfound realization.
Hadn’t he already known and accepted this?
Wiping away the spittle, hemoptysis, and nosebleed with the back of his hand, Aslan chuckled hollowly.
When he first received the death sentence, he fought using Equalization against the Supreme Divinity’s Sword.
Even though he hadn’t used Equalization much afterward, he had exerted his foresight in the process of defeating Astrid recently.
Pushing his body to its limits through relentless battles.
This was the result.
Aslan faced this consequence.
There wasn’t much he could do about it, so Aslan silently wiped his face clean and washed his blood-soaked hands in the water.
He stopped wiping only when his face appeared clean.
By now, the washbasin was already dyed red.
Anyone who saw it might think a person had died.
After hesitating for a moment, Aslan looked around by raising his head.
No one was in the backyard where the washbasin was placed.
Whether it was because it was early or because today was especially cold, it was timely.
Carrying guilt toward the person who had drawn the water, Aslan tipped the washbasin over.
The sound of splashing water. The blood Aslan had spilled gradually flowed away, seeping into the ground.
Though it wasn’t evidence destruction per se, it would take some time before others discovered it.
Adorning himself with such relief, once Aslan finished, he picked up the washbasin and headed toward the river.
Believing there would be time before the traveling party woke up.
Because he couldn’t show that he was dying.
When he returned with fresh water, Aslan unexpectedly came face-to-face with someone.
A Green entity whose skin was closer to jade green than simply green, with strikingly white irises.
A watcher.
He stood in the backyard where Aslan had spilled blood, quietly observing Aslan.
The watcher stared at Aslan expressionlessly, making it hard to read any emotion.
Aslan knew instantly; the watcher was analyzing him right now.
Just then, as if confirming Aslan’s thoughts, the watcher spoke.
“Are the other members of your group aware?”
The watcher stood in the backyard where Aslan had spilled blood.
Being an expert in restoration magic, watchers who attained a certain level in restoration magic also possessed medical knowledge.
And given his position as a watcher, he must have cut down many humans or monsters in his time.
The watcher must have deduced Aslan’s physical condition.
At that moment, Aslan swallowed all the words rising within and forced a smile.
The words spoken while smiling seemed entirely off-base, but upon closer inspection, it was clear they were fabricated excuses.
“When everyone wakes up, they’ll wake up on their own. I don’t usually go around waking people up….”
The watcher merely continued to gaze steadily at Aslan, who tried to justify tipping over the water.
Soon enough, the following words came.
“Do you think you can deceive my eyes?”
Upon hearing this, Aslan realized that deceiving was futile.
“It’s probably a few months at most. In fact, just walking around alive now is a miracle. Perhaps…”
“I know too.”
Thus, Aslan cut off the watcher’s words before anyone could hear, flashing an awkward smile.
Knowing one’s own body condition best.
The watcher gazed steadily at Aslan, who met his gaze while placing the wooden bucket of water he had fetched down.
“Hmm.”
The sound followed the thud of the bucket hitting the ground as the watcher crossed his arms and let out a grunt.
As if it weren’t his concern at all.
However, the subsequent action contradicted his attitude.
The watcher approached Aslan, stopping right in front of him, and Aslan looked down at the old Green entity.
With unreadable gray irises, the aged Green entity met Aslan’s gaze.
“If you already know, there’s no need for tiresome explanations. Your remaining lifespan isn’t long. Extending it will likely be difficult, but… if I help, I can delay it.”
Delay it?
Aslan knew his physical condition well.
With continuous bodily damage leaving little life left, it was akin to multiple organ failures.
There was no treatment for multiple organ failures. All that could be done was to treat the organs that had lost function.
According to Aslan’s understanding, even modern medicine struggled with such cases.
Yet, the claim that it could be delayed made Aslan skeptical.
Had the name not followed, Aslan wouldn’t have believed it.
“Watcher Resham. Living as the Emperor’s Blade.”
Resham, speaking as if his name alone was a badge of honor.
Upon hearing the name “Resham,” Aslan’s eyes widened.
It was a name he had heard before.
“The First Sword of the Empire…?”
“That’s one way to refer to me.”
Resham replied casually, exuding confidence in his tone.
Confidence in his skills and reputation. The self-assurance of a warrior who had battled tirelessly over a long period.
Seeing that confidence, Aslan was taken aback.
‘Why didn’t I realize sooner?’
A master of restoration magic with pale jade-green skin and a bronze sword.
Such a person could only be the First Sword of the Empire, Resham. Realizing this now, Aslan was somewhat surprised.
But the surprise quickly faded.
The fact that the First Sword of the Empire was here in this remote place felt strange.
Transforming that strangeness into curiosity, Aslan directed it towards Resham, who read his thoughts from his gaze and preempted him.
“A powerful transformation magic caused our ship to run aground. Our original intention was to make contact with the northern continent.”
“A powerful transformation magic…”
“Altering the climate, raising the waves, and summoning storms.”
“…Astrid.”
Transformation magic vast enough to alter the climate, mistaken for natural phenomena—Astrid’s lament.
Understanding the full story, Aslan lightly nodded and soon said,
“The reason you mentioned helping lies there, doesn’t it?”
Watchers are originally senior scouts or investigators for the entire empire.
Since such a watcher has no way to return to the empire, he is seeking assistance.
Resham remained silent, lending weight to Aslan’s deduction, and shortly after, clarified his terms.
“If you promise me passage and escort back to the empire, I will provide ongoing treatment during our journey together.”
When Aslan didn’t respond, Resham added,
“Depending on progress, I will seek direct treatment methods for you within the empire.”
There was no reason to refuse.
*
“The Empire?”
The woman Angie, pressing her ample chest with crossed arms, spoke.
The woman with crimson hair that suited fire well scratched her cheek with a peculiar look and rolled her eyes.
Her gaze settled on Aslan.
“So, the Empire means… you’re going back? Then, just taking the ship His Majesty the Emperor arrived on together should work…”
“No.”
But the one answering Angie wasn’t Aslan, but Ereta.
“Not the Calus Empire, but the Empire of the southern continent.”
Angie didn’t seem to understand even after hearing this.
“Uh, so… South Empire?”
Ereta shook her head again.
“The Empire. Nothing before or after, just ‘Empire.'”
Angie still wore a perplexed expression, crossing her arms as if annoyed.
“There are so many Empires here, why call it that? It’s confusing.”
“They claim to be the true descendants of the ancient empire.”
Thus, it became Aslan’s turn to explain.
“The ones who deserve to be called ‘Empire’ are only them… a proud name.”
That’s why, apart from the Calus Empire, North Empire, and South Empire, there’s another entity called simply ‘Empire’ in Gelladridion.
While the Calus Empire might not insist on being a descendant of the ancient empire, the ancient empire was a significant mark in Gelladridion’s history.
Angie let out an “Oh” with a sense of wonder at Aslan’s explanation, while Lumel listened intently, his eyes gleaming, and then spoke.
“It seems the southern continent has unique countries.”
This perspective was natural since it was a gathering of Aslan’s group without Resham.
To northerners, southerners might seem intriguing.
Unexpectedly, Richard was the one to pick up on Lumel’s statement.
“Unlike the northern continent, the southern continent was directly part of the ancient empire… so it’s said that the influence of the ancient empire runs deep. Hence, it’s only natural.”
Lumel turned to Richard as he spoke, and Richard closed his eyes, stroking his chin as he began to speak.
Clearly recollecting memories.
“Apparently, most countries in the southern continent are either ancient nations dating back to the era of the ancient empire or places established through the legacy of that empire.”
Opening his eyes, Richard looked at his companions with an air of surprise.
Richard could read the underlying emotion in their gazes.
It was close to astonishment that the bumbling Richard could present such information.
Annoyed or irritated reactions would have been reasonable, but Richard instead offered a friendly smile and sheepishly scratched his head.
“My learning isn’t deep, but I gained some knowledge through my education as a successor, so don’t expect too much. I can’t guarantee I’ll keep offering such information regularly.”
Whether he was genuinely kind-hearted or just naive was unclear, but Aslan nodded in agreement with Richard’s words.
“As Angie pointed out, our next destination is that country, the Empire, in the southern continent. And the way to reach the southern continent is just one: the scar at the far eastern edge of the world…”
“Must we really go to the southern continent?”
This time, it was Phey, who had been quiet all along, interrupting Aslan.
Phey stared at Aslan with rare emotionlessness and asked,
“Is there a reason to heed that Green-skin’s request?”
Aslan couldn’t answer straightforwardly to that question. After all, the revelation about his limited lifespan had already cast a gloomy atmosphere.
In such a situation, if he admitted he was heading there to extend his lifespan, his companions would worry excessively about him.
Thus, Aslan had no choice but to bring up another excuse.
“Anyway, we needed to visit the southern continent. We also need to gather divine power from the ancient gods there.”
Of course, it was an excuse, but not entirely so.
There was quite a bit of divine power from ancient gods to obtain in the southern continent, along with numerous items exclusive to the region.
Aslan further supported his point.
“And we need to bring the powers of the southern continent into our alliance. We must play the role of the first envoys and assess the political landscape of the southern continent.”
“…Understood.”
Although Phey’s tone suggested dissatisfaction, they merely glanced at Aslan with an odd look and didn’t say anything more.
Just as Aslan started feeling apologetic under that gaze, Tiamat, who had been silent like Phey, finally spoke.
“So, what do you plan to do from now on? Anywhere is fine as long as we get out of this cold place. I’m tired of the cold.”
Saying this, Tiamat brushed the thick leather coat draped over their body, and Aslan turned to them with an awkward smile.
Tiamat found that smile somehow ominous.
“…You said anywhere is fine?”
“Yeah? What’s wrong with…”
“The word might change, but I won’t complain. Sorry in advance.”
Some of the companions looked puzzled, while others seemed to catch on.
They soon understood what Aslan’s words implied.
Velrus Neresca, currently serving as a temporary base for the Calus Empire’s army after Baldur’s evacuation, where massive ships of the Calus Empire and various vessels rested.
There was a ship there.
A ship developed in the city of wizards with funding from the Calus Empire, specialized for long-distance navigation.
On that ship, a dragonkin waved their hand.
“Brother! Long time no see!”
The voice was not just familiar but intimate.
That intimacy made Tiamat kneel and helped them understand Aslan’s apology.
Tiamat, wearing a look of despair, faced an enemy who was overwhelmingly large and towering.
Harold Crow, the harbinger of that despair, slowly approached from the ship.
“Alright, Brother! Are we ready to set sail for the southern continent?”
Tiamat deeply despaired at the thought of enduring hellish seasickness again.
