The cheers flowed out.
At last, the guards rejoiced in victory, celebrating their contribution to it.
The wounded, clutching their injuries, rejoiced upon seeing the fallen tyrant and Aslan slumped over.
The survivors honored the dead and those who hadn’t witnessed this scene.
Among them, those who couldn’t fight sent their praises and cheers to the hero now sitting there.
They had survived.
Survived the merciless and irrational violence of the high priest.
Thanks to some hero, they hadn’t lost everything.
They had kept their lives; though the city might have been shattered, they didn’t need to leave.
They were thankful for the situation and for the hero.
And they sought to gather the survivors, so more could live.
The weary hero would soon rise, believing wounds could be healed.
After all, wasn’t the renowned Resham here?
The people of the empire firmly trusted Resham, and Resham trusted in their own skills.
Even without mana, as long as one wasn’t completely dead, there were countless ways to save them.
Using their own blood, even without mana, to some extent, it was possible.
Thus, when Resham approached Aslan,
they realized it was already too late.
“…Aslan?”
Tiamat paused mid-step, muttering someone’s name, and at that moment,
Resham understood there was nothing they could do.
There, they sat.
Slumping down, head bowed,
unresponsive even to the girl shaking them in concern.
The elf girl, crying for the first time since her birth.
In her arms, Aslan gazed downward with blurred eyes.
The pristine sword blade clutched in his hand still burned brightly.
As Resham slowly approached, they realized much.
By the time Aslan had risen again, gripping the sword,
when he had stepped forward to fight the tyrant one last time,
his heart had already stopped long ago.
He had merely forced his body to move, surpassing even death, just to swing the sword a few times.
When the fight ended, he returned not as a hero but as a human.
A human cannot move with a stopped heart.
Thus, he died.
“A, Aslan? No, right?”
Resham saw a woman push past them toward Aslan and watched the dragon-person weep, their bloodshot eyes filled with anguish.
“Aslan is… the strongest, right? Right? This can’t be…”
The crimson-haired woman approached with a bewildered expression and stopped before the slumped Aslan.
The sight of someone unable to face the truth. While the trembling elf cried, Angie approached Resham once more.
Aslan, slumped over, heard and felt what was happening around him.
It’s said that those dying retain their hearing for a short while. Aslan realized this as he listened to the sounds reaching him.
“You, you’re… no, you’re a magician, right? Please, I beg you. Save Aslan…”
Angie pleaded with Resham.
Resham replied that it was already too late, and upon hearing this, Angie urged them to try something, anything.
Approaching Aslan closely, two women—one of them Ereta—placed her hands on Aslan’s dying body and infused it with life energy.
But the life force dissipated uselessly, unable to reach the already deceased Aslan.
No nourishment or life force could bring back the dead.
“No, no…”
The woman’s voice quivered in despair at the impending reality.
Above her cries, other voices of chaos arose.
“Someone, anyone, please help! Anything!”
Lumel appealed to the jubilant crowd.
Begging them to use any dark means necessary to save Aslan.
Unfortunately, no one possessed such means.
If Resham couldn’t do it, then it was only natural.
The murmuring guards and people were baffled, horrified, and saddened as they approached Aslan.
Richard applied all the available medical supplies to Aslan, wrapping, applying ointments, trying to make him eat.
Aslan felt all these sounds gradually fading away, feeling a sense of futility.
It wasn’t that the sounds were fading.
His end was approaching.
Aslan thought.
Perhaps if he died and opened his eyes again, he’d return home.
Maybe this was just a bad dream.
Perhaps this entire journey was just a winter night’s dream.
But that was merely wishful thinking.
Too much story existed within this nightmare to dismiss it as just a dream.
There was joy alongside sorrow, hope alongside despair.
Certainly, joy and hope weren’t abundant, but this wasn’t a simple nightmare.
That’s why he chose sacrifice.
That’s why he faced his slowing heart and dying body.
Though he didn’t truly want to die, he made that choice.
“—”
Sounds no longer reached him. Even thoughts were barely formed.
Within them, Aslan felt coldness and solitude.
Truthfully, Aslan had never wanted to die.
Even in this world of despair, Aslan desired happiness.
Wanted to live.
In a world where such happiness was unattainable, in a situation where he could only remain as Lee Hyun-woo,
he made the choice that was quintessentially Lee Hyun-woo.
Aslan thought of his father as he slipped into death.
His father, the firefighter.
Who saved people until the very end at the fire scene and died.
His father, known only through stories, already gone.
A father whose memory was hazy yet clearly good.
‘Did Father feel this way?’
Aslan’s fading consciousness wondered.
‘Did Father regret his good deeds?’
‘Would he have chosen despite regrets?’
‘Have I done well?’
As Aslan’s consciousness faded, Lee Hyun-woo whispered words that would never reach.
“Father, have I done well?”
With that, Aslan’s consciousness vanished.
When he opened his eyes again, Lee Hyun-woo’s consciousness was in a clear space.
Tick, tick, tick.
The place resembled a counseling room.
An appropriately sized table and an uncomfortable chair for prolonged sitting.
A grandfather clock ticking on the wall.
A window showing the outside.
The space was a typical counseling room.
Only the deep darkness enveloping from outside the window to Hyun-woo’s front distinguished it.
Even the faint hope that opening his eyes would mean returning home was crushed by this scenery, and Hyun-woo let out a hollow laugh while seated.
Something was approaching.
From the depths of the darkness, something was slowly coming closer.
Clack, clack.
The sound of heels echoed like hoof beats.
Despite not seeing or hearing its approach, the presence weighed heavily on the space.
An overwhelming presence. Very familiar to Hyun-woo.
“The Dark Ram Herd.”
Upon voicing the guess, the sound of approaching heels halted.
It paused, revealing an evident sense of pleasure.
Visible yet unseen, heard yet silent, touched yet intangible pleasure.
Hyun-woo perceived this and finally solved a riddle he had pondered earlier.
Why the herd, which intervened actively when Aslan could no longer proceed, did not step in even when Aslan faced mortal danger.
He understood the reason.
Because even Aslan’s death was one method to achieve the purpose.
Hyun-woo frowned as the pleasurable herd began moving again, following the sound of approaching heels.
What was the purpose?
What were they attempting with him now?
What was the true identity of the herd?
Facing these unknowns, Hyun-woo remained seated.
Tick.
Suddenly, when the grandfather clock stopped,
Clang!
The window shattered.
Something leaped in through the broken window, rolling to regain balance.
Though obscured by thick darkness, it aimed at the darkness.
Then,
Whirrrrrr!
Spewing fire from its aim, it illuminated the darkness and scattered the herd beyond it.
As the retreating darkness fell off its body and rolled on the floor, the figure became visible.
It was a girl.
A girl clad in a tight-fitting combat suit layered with what seemed like bulletproof armor.
Kneeling on one knee, she fired a machine gun-like weapon.
The merciless bullets struck the herd lurking in the darkness.
In less than a second, the clicking sound indicated an empty magazine.
Dropping the empty magazine by flicking the gun sideways, the girl swiftly inserted a new one.
Her movements were expertly fluid.
Hyun-woo, watching this with a bewildered expression,
“Hyun-woo!”
Suddenly heard someone call Aslan’s real name.
Turning to the source of the voice, he saw a boy who clearly looked younger than Hyun-woo.
“Follow me!”
Hyun-woo couldn’t comprehend the situation.
Being in this space itself was already questionable, and the appearance of these individuals made everything incomprehensible.
The only thing visible was that the boy, unlike the military-dressed girl, was dressed like a typical fantasy mage.
He couldn’t grasp the situation. Even if he resisted their hands, it wouldn’t lead to a good outcome, but blindly following wasn’t wise either.
Whirrrrrr!
The machine gun resumed firing. As Hyun-woo hesitated, hearing bullets striking and shattering in the darkness,
“Hyun-woo, will you not come with us?”
Beyond the window, someone stuck their head out from the darkness.
Hyun-woo flinched upon recognizing the monk.
A monk he had seen in the memories of the formless entity long ago.
Seeing Hyun-woo’s apparent confusion, the boy smiled knowingly and extended his hand.
“I’ll explain everything after we leave this place!”
“We don’t have much time!”
The sharp voice of the girl reminded Hyun-woo of Angie, causing him to grit his teeth and extend his hand.
Grabbing his hand, the boy relievedly pulled Hyun-woo along and jumped into the abyss through the window.
As they plunged into the abyss, Hyun-woo saw it.
A planet made of torn and shredded bones, muscles, and chunks of meat spanning the chasm.
The formless entity.
It opened.
Suddenly, a swirling pattern emerged, swallowing Hyun-woo, the boy, the monk who appeared later, and the girl.
For a brief moment, Hyun-woo feared they were being devoured or tricked, but he landed in a field.
Thud. After rolling and stabilizing himself, the three others also landed.
The vivid sensation of grass beneath him.
Hyun-woo, startled by the vividness, looked up as the two unknown figures and the monk approached him.
The boy dressed like a typical fantasy mage and the girl dressed like a professional soldier.
And the bulky monk he had seen in a vision long ago.
Hyun-woo conflicted for a moment before asking,
“Who are you?”
Simultaneously answering, the three paused before the boy sheepishly responded,
“We are failed possessors.”
Possessors who, unlike you, have already failed.
Hyun-woo struggled to understand this answer.
