Angie had a dream.
Not the kind of dream filled with delusions or fantasies, but one that reflected memories from not too distant past.
In those memories, Angie was rarely experiencing such intense emotions.
While Angie’s words and actions were often intense, her emotions usually followed a rather flat curve.
So, this was an exceptionally rare occurrence.
However, it wasn’t at all surprising.
In reality, it would be rare for anyone in Angie’s situation to not feel this way.
In the dream, Angie once again deeply despaired, as her feelings of despair and frustration were laid bare.
Looking at the scene before her eyes, she despaired once more.
In the dream, Angie attended what could only be called a funeral.
Given that this was the first time in her life she had ever participated in such an event, it deepened her despair even further.
Every time she fell asleep, she relived the same funeral—it was Aslan’s funeral.
At the funeral, Aslan lay peacefully in the coffin.
It wasn’t a peaceful death; his face bore a thorough lack of expression.
His body, tightly wrapped in overgrown white steel, exuded a sense of reverence to all who saw him.
As if to prove this reverence, despite being held in a makeshift funeral hall on the outskirts of a ruined city, many people were present.
Greens, humans, dragonkin, elves—all those who had survived because of Aslan or had traveled with him were there.
They witnessed the death of one who should never have died.
Aslan left behind various emotions for those who observed this ending.
Deep regret and frustration for those who had traveled with him.
Relief and sorrow for those who had survived because of him.
Angie was clearly among the former.
The dream then shifted to another scene before the funeral—right after Aslan’s death, in a makeshift medical room within the collapsed city where an autopsy was taking place.
Resham determined Aslan’s cause of death without even needing to cut into him.
Multiple organ failure.
A comprehensive explanation that all internal organs had severely deteriorated to the point they could no longer sustain life.
This was followed by detailed descriptions and notes.
Even though Angie knew it was just a dream, a thing of the past, and even if it wasn’t Resham’s fault,
she still felt an unreasonable anger towards Resham while listening.
Firstly, Aslan’s heart had stopped.
This was the most direct cause of death.
It had already stopped when he rose again to fight against the tyrant, alongside the fallen Richard.
Still, he was able to move because of the purity that remained even after his death.
The power of nature and creation within him allowed him to continue fighting even after death.
Knowing that even a single moment of carelessness would lead to a meaningless death, Aslan fought until the end.
“His left eye went blind long ago due to brain damage.”
One of Aslan’s emerald-green eyes, which always brought peace to those who looked upon them, had already lost its function.
With a narrowed field of vision and nearly blind right eye, he continued to fight.
“Both large and small intestines have also deteriorated, and liver function has dropped to an astonishing degree. It’s miraculous that he was able to act normally at all.”
Living a normal life would have been unbearably difficult for Aslan.
Eating, drinking, resting—everything would have been a struggle.
Aslan’s body had long reached its limits.
The battle against the tyrant was merely the conclusion.
“You don’t need to blame yourself. It seems he was like this long before…”
Resham tried to console the traveling party with these words, but none of them took it as comfort.
Angie simply swallowed her aimless anger and drew a breath.
Feeling as if she might vomit, she listened to Resham recount the causes of death and trembled with a wretched expression.
When she asked about his lifespan, and Aslan replied that everything would be fine and quickly resolved,
She should have stopped him then.
At least, when Aslan obstinately chose to fight, she should have done everything possible.
Rather, she herself should have died.
At least that would have been better than Aslan dying.
After Resham recounted the cause of death several times and awkwardly tried to console the group, Angie woke up from the nightmare.
Boom…!
It was around the time a distant explosion echoed.
Angie woke up from her sleep.
“…Shit.”
As soon as she got up, the woman muttered curses while getting out of bed.
Where Angie opened her eyes wasn’t in front of Aslan’s corpse or in the city where Aslan had died.
Instead, it was amidst neatly arranged tents—an encampment with Resham and imperial soldiers.
As soon as Angie got dressed, she stepped outside.
Boom…!
The distant explosions continued.
Imperial soldiers stationed nearby looked uncomfortable as they gazed in the direction of the sound.
There was no need to guess who or what it was since it had happened multiple times already.
Angie immediately headed toward the forest.
Soon, shouts could be heard. Loud, echoing shouts accompanied by rough sounds of destruction.
Kaaaaaaaboom!
Splintered wood fragments flying everywhere. Trees falling down.
A tree that had its trunk and roots shattered crashed to the ground, scattering branches around as it rolled along.
Tiamat was there.
Amidst the broken trees, the dragonkin was breathing heavily.
The bow she had thrown aside was miraculously still intact despite her venting.
Breathing heavily, the dragonkin, whose eyes were forever closed, turned her head slightly while wearing a long robe covering her lower body.
The wind brushing against her scales. In that wind, the sound of approaching footsteps.
Tiamat paused, and Angie leaned against a tree and spoke.
“Isn’t that enough?”
Her voice was cold enough to make Tiamat flinch.
“…Angie.”
Tiamat straightened her shoulders after flinching and greeted Angie.
Since losing her brother and her eyes, Tiamat had been consumed by extreme anger.
She stood up to protect Aslan with her bow, despite having made those sacrifices.
But failing to do so became her torment and fueled her rage.
Thus, Tiamat kept her eyes permanently closed and revealed her upper body to ensure no one could sneak up on her unnoticed.
Unaffected by the biting cold, her bow no longer missed its mark.
“Do you think you’re the only one who’s grieving?”
But she no longer knew who to blame.
What Tiamat truly wanted to destroy was herself, for protecting nothing.
That’s why Angie provoked her to redirect that anger.
The provocation was effective.
Even without sight, the fierce anger was palpable as Tiamat scrunched her face and said,
“…I’m sorry.”
Clenching her teeth, she contorted her face further and slumped her shoulders.
“I…”
Several emotions lingered in the unspoken words.
From unutterable anger to reproach.
But Tiamat remained silent.
Angie silently observed Tiamat and let out a sigh that went unheard.
“Where’s Phey?”
“Left at dawn.”
“Again at dawn… I see.”
Aslan’s death had changed the traveling party.
Not in a positive way.
First, Phey.
Phey left every dawn.
Though the purpose was unknown, the occasional priest heads brought back, twisted by pain, gave some indication.
So Angie no longer bothered looking for Phey. They would return on their own.
Instead, Angie left Tiamat alone and headed back toward the campsite.
“Oh, Angela.”
Inside the campsite, the rest of the traveling party could be seen.
The most noticeable was Richard.
At a glance, Richard seemed fine.
But upon closer inspection, it was clear that he wasn’t.
First, his eyes.
Richard’s eyes no longer held any of their usual optimism.
There was no trace of confidence in his martial skills or self-esteem.
He didn’t sleep. If he managed to fall asleep, nightmares plagued him, causing him to toss and turn, waking shortly afterward.
His anguish and suffering were vivid.
Angie didn’t know the reason, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to solve it.
The underlying reason was simple.
On the day he vowed to protect those more noble and necessary than himself,
Losing what he had vowed to protect was the response.
“Senior.”
To Angie’s use of the honorific she was usually called by, Richard showed no reaction, appearing gaunt and frail.
He bid Angie farewell with a dim, hazy smile, and Angie swallowed her distress as she passed by.
“Ah, Angie.”
Next, Angie encountered Lumel.
On the surface, Lumel appeared completely fine.
Compared to the others, there seemed to be little difference.
He cooked as usual and participated in battles.
He seemed cheerful.
If he had spare time, he would comb his hair or read his cherished books, just like before.
But that was only on the surface.
Angie noticed, as always, that there was one extra bowl set out for the stew.
It was always the bowl Aslan used.
“Your stew is ready. Please enjoy it while it’s warm.”
Lumel greeted Angie with a bright smile. Angie stared at the six bowls of stew and sat down.
“I’ll eat well.”
Angie drank her portion like a gulp and proceeded to eat Aslan’s portion as well.
Lumel acted as if he hadn’t noticed.
Considering how he often mumbled something expressionlessly when alone, it was perhaps better that he didn’t react.
“It’s delicious. Thank you.”
“Thank you? Not at all. Let’s work hard today as well.”
Angie received Lumel’s cheerful farewell with a soft smile.
This way, Angie reaffirmed that none of the traveling party were fine.
Including herself.
As Angie returned to her tent, the soldiers’ gazes toward her were filled with pity.
Her combat prowess was undeniable, and she was highly skilled at dealing with the suddenly rampant undead,
But her appearance was pitiful.
Because even her forced cheerfulness couldn’t hide her true state.
Once inside her tent, Angie collapsed onto her bed.
Lying there, she stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Aslan.”
No answer came.
“How should I proceed?”
Angie herself knew the answer.
“How can I… finish what you couldn’t?”
But stopping wasn’t an option.
Whenever she reminded herself that Aslan couldn’t hear her, couldn’t respond,
She felt an inexplicable pain.
It was a thirst that would never be quenched, even across eternity.
