The future. For Aslan, it was a point that could be called the present.
After returning, what Aslan noticed was quite unexpected.
Because neither the return from the past nor the disappearance into the past was understood in terms of how it happened.
Aslan had no idea how returning to the present would appear.
At the moment when a burning divine power enveloped his body, and an indescribable feeling, as if wrapped by some kind of intangible flaw, started from the extremities of his limbs.
Through the distorted vision, Aslan saw the landscape emerge.
When the fiery divine power surrounding his body faded, Aslan and Angie were right in front of the portal of the world’s seam.
As if the collapse of the world’s seam never occurred, and they had simply walked through it calmly.
The only difference was that the armor rolled at their feet, and Aslan held a weapon in his hand.
Though Aslan and Angie remembered everything they experienced in the past, including their fall, the traveling party did not.
In their memories, there was no trace of the world’s seam collapsing or the ancient empire’s ruins falling.
Even the fact that Aslan and Angie couldn’t escape the collapsing passage and fell was nonexistent.
Aslan guessed that perhaps the fact itself that the world’s seam collapsed couldn’t exist, which is why it disappeared.
He surmised that it might be some kind of time paradox.
Since Aslan and Angie, who played a significant role in maintaining the world’s seam, existed in the future, the seam couldn’t collapse.
The very fact that it collapsed couldn’t exist, so the entire situation of its collapse was erased.
It was uncertain whether this outcome could be considered fortunate or if the ‘present’ where Aslan and Angie landed was indeed their correct world.
Nevertheless, Aslan felt relieved that the worst-case scenario hadn’t unfolded.
And yet, he also felt sad.
If there had been more beings like the Warrior God…
If such courage and ability had been available…
Aslan wouldn’t have had to fight until he nearly died.
Geladridion was always a place where goodness was trampled and evil flourished—a hellish land.
Realizing this deeply, Aslan closed his eyes tightly and reopened them.
A deep sorrow reflected in his teal eyes.
‘Thou shalt prevail!’
This thought, reminiscent of a prophecy from some deity, gradually faded.
Amidst these thoughts and emotions, silence reigned.
“Aslan?”
Hearing his name called, Aslan snapped out of his reverie.
“Ah, sorry.”
Aslan, lost in thought, sheepishly smiled as he came back to reality.
“Why are you like that? Are you hurt somewhere?”
The woman asking this question wore a linen shirt with a subtle blue hue and leather pants, currently being fitted into sturdy armor. Her crimson hair resembled a setting sun, and her golden eyes evoked a rising sun.
Her name was Angela Tail.
Angela Tail, Angie, paused while fitting herself into her armor and met Aslan’s gaze.
“You look a bit dazed. Did you get injured during the fight?”
“…No, I just had something to think about.”
Naturally, as she bent over slightly to fit the armor, the large swellings under her linen shirt shifted downward, and Aslan desperately turned his eyes away.
At moments like this, Aslan wished Angie would appreciate the advantages of her physical form.
But if that were to happen, he’d likely struggle with resisting temptation.
Shaking off trivial thoughts, Aslan picked up the armor he had set aside.
It was a relic left behind by the Warrior God.
A relic of a certain deity who fought valiantly but ultimately failed against the Veil of Mercy.
Similar to Aslan’s Dragon King scale armor, it was a type of lamellar armor.
Complete with shoulder guards, arm guards, greaves, cuirass, breastplate, and backplate, it was a sturdy suit of white steel armor.
Aslan picked up the vambrace and gestured for Angie to extend her arm.
Complying readily, Angie extended her arm, and Aslan fastened the vambrace around it while observing Angie’s expression, which seemed to convey something she wanted to say.
As she fastened the vambrace, Angie looked at Aslan.
With her keen intuition, she realized that Aslan had recently recalled an unforgettable scene.
Their hands touched. Angie’s hands, larger than average for a woman, simultaneously touched both Aslan’s hand and the hand of the Dragon King.
It was an odd sensation, and Angie fidgeted her fingers as she spoke.
“The Warrior God… he was an incredible guy.”
The sudden comment left Aslan momentarily unsure of how to respond, so he gave a simple answer.
“Hmm.”
While fastening the vambrace, Aslan noticed countless scratches on it.
The Warrior God, whose real name was unknown, had once been human and became a deity. It seemed he truly stood his ground whenever a fight was necessary, as he had claimed.
The vambrace Angie wore was covered with numerous scratches.
There were small scratches, claw marks presumably from monsters, and scratch marks that could have been made by human weapons. There were also scorch marks that appeared to be caused by magic.
Despite all this, the armor remained unbending and resilient like its original owner.
“I… honestly don’t think I can do that.”
To fight when necessary and endure when unnecessary.
It sounded easy in words but was incredibly difficult in practice.
Placing value in the act of struggle itself, regardless of victory or defeat, was similarly challenging.
To fight when one believes it’s necessary and endure even if it leads to crisis or death—this was incomprehensible to Angie, who usually acted on impulse.
“I want to become like that.”
It was a belief she admired and wanted to emulate.
After fastening the vambrace, Aslan proceeded to fit the breastplate.
A breastplate lined with large metal and leather plates inside and covered with scales on the outside.
Even though Angie’s firm chest was pressed against the scratched and scarred armor, she gazed at those marks with emotional eyes.
“How can I become like that?”
“…I don’t know.”
Aslan answered with a faint smile, struggling to keep his eyes off the changing shape of her ample bosom.
“Maybe… trying to become that way and striving to act according to your own principles will lead you there.”
“It’s hard.”
“It is.”
Belief was a process without results.
Most often, it was only completed upon death.
However,
“I think it’s valuable because it’s hard.”
That was Aslan’s belief.
Sometimes, despite seeming difficult or impossible, moving forward for its sake was invaluable.
After fitting the breastplate, Aslan added the backplate and then moved on to the greaves.
As he glanced at Angie’s long, elegant legs and wiggling toes, Aslan tried hard not to entertain any lewd thoughts.
When attaching the thigh armor, the touch of her leather pants beneath his hands revealed a firm and springy texture. Aslan barely managed to resist and pulled his hands away.
Just then, Angie caught Aslan’s retreating hand.
Surprised by this sudden action, Aslan widened his eyes as Angie casually said,
“If you want to touch my thighs more, feel free to do so.”
Aslan was startled by her unexpected statement.
First, he thought he had successfully hidden his feelings, and second, he never expected Angie to make such an enticing offer.
Realizing immediately that his underestimation of Angie’s intuition led to this situation, Aslan watched as Angie shrewdly identified his weakness.
“Do you really want to touch? Your eyes often linger on my chest and butt. Isn’t that what you want?”
He couldn’t deny it—it was true.
But he couldn’t admit it either.
Sweating nervously without forming a coherent response, Aslan saw Angie break into a cheerful grin.
“I’m tough, so go ahead and touch me! I do it often myself. Anyway, they’ve grown bigger lately, and it feels good.”
Indeed, it probably did feel good.
Her perfectly developed physique transcended ordinary human limits in terms of tactile sensation.
Caught in this internal conflict and distress, Aslan fervently prayed for a savior.
Coincidentally or not, someone approached from outside the tent, pushing their head through the entrance.
A distinctive dark brown-haired man with gray eyes and magical tattoos covering his face—it was Richard.
Seeing Richard, Aslan sighed in relief and asked,
“Ah, Richard. Is Resham back?”
“…Not yet, but…”
Richard awkwardly grinned, as if caught off guard.
Disappointed, Aslan frowned, and Angie too expressed dissatisfaction.
Whether it was due to the situation or Richard’s interruption, it was unclear.
Regardless of Angie’s expression, Richard wasn’t about to leave the tent.
Given the circumstances, after all.
The World Seam and the Empire’s Legacy Fortress were part of the empire’s transit and fortification system. If Resham were present, using these facilities wouldn’t pose much of a problem.
However, things changed after passing through the seam.
The border immediately beyond the seam belonged not to the empire but to the Mareza City Union.
Under normal circumstances, those affiliated with the empire who crossed the seam were accommodated to pass through the border smoothly.
Even inspectors rarely restricted passage unless in urgent situations.
But now it was an exception. For some reason, the Mareza City Union had locked down the border, preventing even Resham, the inspector, from crossing.
Considering that issues involving the Mareza City Union were usually rare, this was undoubtedly unusual.
Resham excused herself to the group and went with the border soldiers to assess the situation, bringing the story back to the present.
Back to the current state of being detained at the border.
Two days since Resham left, Aslan sensed something was going wrong.
Of course, given Resham’s status as an inspector, she could likely handle most matters herself.
Still, confined here and unable to move freely, Aslan thought it best to take advantage of this rare rest period and let the group relax.
During this time, Richard arrived.
Thinking Resham had returned, Aslan concealed his disappointment and asked,
“So what’s the matter? Is there another situation…?”
“Ahh, no, nothing like that! It’s just…”
Richard hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.
Annoyed, Angie raised her fist.
“Speak before I punch you.”
Her flat tone carried an intimidating presence, causing Richard to shrink his shoulders and force a laugh.
Attempting to hide his evident fear of Angie, Richard stammered,
“W-well, I thought to ask Aslan for a sparring session! But now that I see, you seem fine already…”
“Sparring?”
It was Aslan who reacted.
Standing up from where he had been sitting, Aslan retrieved his sword from the table and secured it to his waist.
“Since I’ve just helped Angie put on her armor, there’s nothing else to do, and I don’t mind sparing with you.”
Seeing Aslan’s readiness, Angie sighed heavily after glaring at Richard with discontent.
If Aslan said so, there was no way for Angie to protest.
“Alright, come back soon.”
Though “come back soon” implied returning after finishing, Aslan paid no heed and nodded to Angie with a smile.
Thus, Aslan and Richard stepped out of the tent.
Besides Aslan’s group, many merchants were also camping near the border, delayed by the closure.
Among them were those picking unnecessary quarrels with the border soldiers.
Considering that the Mareza City Union was a nation developed through commerce, and thus many travelers passed through for commercial purposes, this was unsurprising.
Ordinarily, bribes might have sufficed to pass through, yet numerous merchants had set up camps here.
Evidence that this border closure was no ordinary matter.
Aslan observed this while turning his attention to Richard, who awkwardly led him to an open space.
“So, why a sparring session?”
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Richard uttered a bewildered “Uh.”
Stopping in his tracks, Richard stood dumbfounded as Aslan halted beside him.
Confused by Aslan’s gaze, Richard sheepishly scratched his head.
“W-well, actually, sparring is one of my main training methods… My teacher said once I reached a certain level, I could train alone sufficiently, but my skill isn’t there yet…”
Trying to train alone didn’t yield much…
Richard trailed off, and Aslan observed his expression tinged with melancholy.
“Originally, my teacher used to help me, but now…”
Richard’s teacher, I’taar. A name belonging to someone no longer alive.
The sadness subtly conveyed through the forced upward curve of his lips.
Recalling this reaction reminded Aslan of his earlier thoughts in the tent.
Both the Warrior God and I’taar had sacrificed themselves.
So Aslan lightly tapped Richard’s shoulder with the back of his hand.
“If that’s the case, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll always be willing to spar with you.”
Understanding Aslan’s consideration, Richard absentmindedly scratched his magical tattoo.
“I thought it would be impolite… You’re always busy, aren’t you, Aslan?”
“You send me off to deal with monsters far stronger than you can handle. Compared to that, this is a minor inconvenience.”
“Is that so?”
Watching Richard’s awkward smile spread, Aslan regarded him.
In truth, Richard was the least motivated among the group.
Lumel had some motivation too, stemming from his work in the Northern Empire, camaraderie with the group, and personal affection towards Aslan.
On the other hand, Richard lacked even that.
Perhaps he harbored resentment towards the martial monks, but realistically, there was no reason for him to follow the group.
Moreover, Richard was not just any noble—he was the heir to a dukedom. Leaving the group anytime wouldn’t have been strange.
From Aslan’s perspective, knowing all this, the somewhat clumsy yet subtly amiable, modestly self-respecting man was somewhat enigmatic.
Why did he continue to follow and fight alongside the group?
Just to help avenge his teacher?
Such a shallow reason seemed insufficient considering the enormity of the enemy.
Especially as the heir to a dukedom, he should well understand the magnitude of the threat.
Unlike Ereta, who was part of the establishment and thus indifferent, or Tiamat, a dragon serving another deity, or Phey, who had broken down, or Lumel, who had little to lose, Richard knew nothing of the enemy.
Richard had no deity to worship. Nothing to mitigate the vastness of the Evil Deity.
Richard had much to lose should he die or get injured.
Richard hadn’t broken down either.
Therefore, Aslan couldn’t comprehend Richard.
Hence, Aslan decided to use this opportunity to understand Richard better.
On a slightly uneven hill away from the border area.
A grass-covered field gently sloped toward dense southern woods. Upon reaching this clearing, Richard said,
“Then… forgive my presumption…”
And he assumed a stance.
A flexible posture reminiscent of I’taar, one hand pointing skyward, the other toward the ground.
Seeing Richard’s stance, Aslan twisted his body.
Extending the Dragon King’s fist toward Richard, tilting his whole body to aim at him.
Like fencing with the entire left arm equipped with the Dragon King’s strength.
Oddly enough, Aslan recalled the first time he met Richard in this moment.
Richard before losing his teacher, exchanging movements with him somehow.
Simultaneously remembering this, Aslan lunged at Richard.
