The expansive hall. This space, usually employed for banquets, unusually carried a somber atmosphere.
The first reason was the gloomy expressions on all the humans present, and the second reason was that some people had actually raised their voices in quarrel.
However, such reasons alone wouldn’t create this kind of atmosphere.
What most influenced this mood was undoubtedly what happened last night.
Last night, people died.
Not just a few but quite a number of important individuals perished.
As a result, someone who normally had no reason to sit at the head of the table sat there with a despondent expression.
He was not one of the Green entities but a human commander.
Neither the fortress’s chief nor a high-ranking commander, he nonetheless occupied the highest seat.
From there, he recounted what had transpired the previous night.
“Last night, thirty-two people were killed.”
In the ensuing silence, he continued, reading from the parchment in his hand.
“General Norman, the fortress commander and leader of a thousand men, was murdered.”
As those who recognized his name grew somber, he glanced at them and added,
“The four personal guards of General Norman, knights clad in blue iron, also fell to sorrow and death.”
The implication was clear. As everyone looked at him, he explained further for those who might not grasp it.
“Four knights trained in combat under the empire’s excellent education, wearing blue iron armor, lost their lives in one place. This is… certainly an unusual occurrence.”
Anyone would understand why.
Just as everyone began to comprehend, the human commander set down the parchment in his hand.
“Before killing General Norman and his four personal guards, the intruder eliminated eighteen imperial soldiers, including seven sergeants, along the way.”
Most of them were patrolmen, found dead when discovered.
Though his tone seemed cold and detached, it carried deep emotion.
It was frustration.
“The cause of death is believed to be a piercing projectile that penetrated the neck bones, heart, and brain in a single strike. In cases where this wasn’t the case, the destruction of vital organs by this strange metallic fragment appears to be the cause.”
With the sound of clinking metal, a small piece of metal, less than a foot long, landed on the table.
A tiny metallic fragment so inconspicuous that one could hardly imagine how it could kill.
But Aslan, who had silently listened to the report, understood.
This was a bullet, made with technology unknown in this world—a rifle bullet.
There was no need for a detailed explanation anyway.
Aslan didn’t have enough knowledge about bullets to explain them perfectly, either.
So Aslan quietly looked at them.
Fortunately, Aslan’s gaze went unnoticed, and the explanation proceeded without interruption.
“It’s estimated that two other casualties were killed while attempting to report after discovering the slain patrol team.”
“Seven are missing?”
“Yes, the remaining casualties were excluded due to special circumstances.”
Special circumstances. The questioner, upon receiving a quiet look, heard the human commander reply.
“The remaining casualties were civilians. During the process of killing 25 people, including 7 civilians, the intruder also killed 7 more civilians in the residential area.”
Adding the 7 civilians to the 25 imperial soldiers, the total was 32. The cold report concluded there.
The faces of the listeners darkened even further.
Aslan sat with the traveling party amidst this somber gathering.
Due to being seated in a relatively good position, Aslan could observe the series of emotional exchanges and changes.
The mood was not merely somber but tragic.
This tragedy did not arise simply because many had died.
Nor was it solely because a prominent figure had been killed.
Thirty-two deaths were not a significant number considering the proportion of the entire imperial army or the soldiers stationed at this fortress.
However, the crucial factor was not the number but the method.
They had been assassinated perfectly, leaving no trace or warning whatsoever.
When the human commander finished his report and glanced at Aslan, Aslan recalled the fact.
The discovery of these casualties occurred right before ‘the intruder’ attempted to kill Aslan using a magical attack resembling a fireball.
In other words, until that commotion, no one had realized the intruder had entered or exited.
The imperial army, vigilant against magical surveillance and guarding against the Abyss, had been outsmarted.
The shame and fear etched on their faces reflected that humiliation.
Even the human commander, barely suppressing a sigh, showed signs of such negative emotions.
Hiding these feelings behind a stoic expression, the human commander looked at Tiamat.
“Lord Tiamat Clo, did you detect anything unusual last night?”
Tiamat, known for having the best detection abilities in the fortress—abilities that, by mere stats, surpassed even Aslan’s—deserved the commander’s inquiry.
Yet, Tiamat shook their head with an expression tinged with subtle anger and self-loathing.
“I detected nothing. I apologize.”
“No, we do not blame you. We acknowledge that the enemy possessed abilities beyond comprehension.”
Despite this reassurance, Tiamat clenched the staff tightly and hung their head.
Naturally so, for Tiamat was currently realizing they had once again missed the enemy’s infiltration and deceit, potentially costing them Aslan.
Rising frustration and self-hatred gnawed at them like a spreading disease.
Unaware of this, Aslan patted Tiamat on the shoulder after offering what little comfort they could.
An act meant to console, though Tiamat barely responded.
Of course, it was understandable.
Tiamat was grappling with the realization that they had failed to detect the enemy’s intrusion and deception, which could have cost them Aslan.
Frustration mounted, and self-hatred spread like a plague, grinding their teeth.
Realizing none of this, Aslan thought.
Becca Clark, the war heroine known as the girl who became a high priestess and a possessor like himself.
Given her status, it was highly likely that detection would have been meaningless.
Unless luck reached an improbable level of 20, missing traces or failing to detect the enemy would have been expected.
Thus, Aslan hoped Tiamat wouldn’t be too disheartened.
Especially since the people around weren’t blaming Tiamat.
Instead, the imperial commanders focused on the fact that the mages’ magical surveillance had been bypassed.
As Aslan stepped away from the conversation, they observed the group.
Most of the group’s expressions were far from positive.
Except for Ereta and Lumel, everyone else displayed irritation, seriousness, or anger.
As Aslan observed these expressions, they thought.
Considering the situation, things could have been worse.
Had the void and chaos attacked in the middle of the night or if another possessor specialized in mass destruction had appeared, the outcome could have been much worse.
Of course, mourning the fallen was natural.
Their deaths were indeed lamentable.
Still, considering the scale of damage caused by a possessor, this could be considered relatively fortunate.
Purely lucky.
As the conversations gradually drew to a close, Aslan snapped back to reality and noticed the gazes directed at them and the group.
“Anyway, our task remains unchanged.”
Recalling the fact, Aslan voiced it aloud.
As attention turned to them, Aslan met the gazes and added,
“Regardless of who or what emerges from it, regardless of the Abyss’s purpose, our mission does not change.”
“What must we do?” Confusion filled the eyes of the audience as Aslan addressed them.
“What is the role of the imperial army?”
“…To protect the empire’s territory, safeguard its citizens, and crush its enemies.”
Aslan nodded and then turned to the human commander, asking,
“And what is the Abyss?”
The response did not come immediately.
Stammering slightly, the commander appeared flustered.
“A deity…”
At this answer, Aslan shook their head.
Perplexed by the audience’s reaction, Aslan firmly stated,
“The enemy.”
Enemy. A wildly inappropriate term for an entire world and an evil deity. Without further explanation, this statement could have sparked resistance.
“As the Abyss plots whatever schemes or cunning strategies it employs, no matter how many people it kills or how much fear it instills in us, the fact that the Abyss is our enemy does not change.”
All eyes were now on Aslan as they stood and spoke.
“Whatever the Abyss desires—worship, slaughter, or prey—the only response we can offer is one.”
War.
Some commanders seemed to understand, prompting Aslan to lean on the table and declare,
“Therefore, our task remains unchanged. We must fight.”
“Is victory possible?”
Those questioning Aslan were among those contemplating retreat.
Mages, individuals associated with the imperial army more for titles and achievements than direct allegiance.
Aslan spared a glance at them.
Ordinarily, Aslan would say that one must fight even without hope of victory, but there was no need to insist on that now.
Because now, Aslan could confidently declare,
“We can win.”
The Abyss’s attempt at assassination, targeting Aslan and the command structure, implied something significant.
Conversely, it meant that Aslan and the command structure posed a problem when functioning properly.
No creature attacks something that isn’t dangerous or fearsome unless there’s a benefit to destroying it.
“Consider what the Abyss has attempted against us. Its aim was to eliminate the command structure to reduce operational capability. It sought to diminish our fighting power because we are a threat.”
Aslan’s words were grounded in evidence and confidence, and above all, persuasive.
Having spent a long time as a veteran of countless battles, Aslan silenced any dissent with authority.
Mutters among some, silent contemplation among others. The mixed leadership of Greens and humans, sharing thoughts, suddenly recalled Aslan’s plan.
Thus, someone spoke up.
“Is that threatening plan—to invade the Abyss directly and suppress it—realistic? Are we not being given false confidence and forced into an attack?”
Are we sure this plan is practical?
Follow-up questions came. As Aslan looked at the speaker, the individual met Aslan’s gaze and added,
“Lady Angie and her companions are trustworthy. We’ve seen how they fight. But….”
Adjusting his monocle and directing a calculating gaze at Aslan,
“You, however, are uncertain. You may be the successor of Budonggong, a veteran of battles, and the slayer of dragons in this campaign—but does that justify committing all our core forces into the Abyss?”
These pointed inquiries couldn’t be ignored.
But Aslan didn’t need to respond.
The door burst open, and several figures entered. One of them immediately declared,
“Yes, it does.”
An impertinent act that would normally be unacceptable, yet upon seeing who spoke, the room collectively held its breath.
Gazes fixed on the Green standing there. Someone whispered involuntarily,
“The First Sword of the Empire, Resham…!”
It was Watcher Resham.
The Watcher summoned in response to Aslan’s request for support.
Resham entered the hall, rummaged through their robes, and produced something.
An elegant scroll adorned with metallic decorations at both ends—a clearly lavish and distinguished item.
As the scroll unrolled with a rustling sound, the inscription visible to any imperial citizen bore the unmistakable emblem of the emperor.
“The Emperor has decreed. The esteemed ruler of the empire has approved the expedition of the Abyss Exploration Team led by the veteran warrior.”
The distinct seal of the Emperor silenced the assembly. The insignia, reminiscent of roots and flames, left no room for argument.
“Henceforth, all imperial forces stationed at the Ollei Plains Fortress shall support the expedition team and ensure the success of the mission.”
None in the imperial army dared to defy the Emperor’s decree.
*
Afterward, the meeting progressed swiftly.
Aslan didn’t need to prepare or say anything.
Upon receiving the Emperor’s order, the imperial army sprang into action as if they’d intended to do so all along, preparing everything needed.
Meanwhile, there was nothing immediate for Aslan and the group to do.
Thus, they left the meeting hall and headed toward the fortress quarters.
On the way, Aslan observed the group.
Everyone seemed to be in poor condition.
Tiamat frequently experienced heightened emotions, often becoming angry or unable to control their feelings.
Angie appeared unusually exhausted; compared to her usual energetic demeanor, she seemed subdued and pale.
Richard exhibited lowered self-esteem and appeared unusually anxious.
Phey, who had always been somewhat clingy, hadn’t let go of Aslan’s collar since hearing about Rebecca Clark’s attack.
Currently, only two appeared normal at a glance.
Ereta and Lumel.
When Aslan thought this and made eye contact with Lumel,
Aslan reconsidered.
‘Or maybe not?’
Lumel reacted naturally to the eye contact.
“Why the serious face, Aslan?”
Smiling gently, Lumel greeted them.
That smile was flawless, devoid of any issues.
Precisely because the smile was so perfect, Aslan realized something was off with Lumel.
Given Lumel’s history of occasional mental instability and skillful acting,
this overly normal behavior indicated otherwise.
How could Lumel remain so unaffected when Aslan had nearly died and confessed their feelings?
Typically, one would react similarly to the rest of the group.
Yet now, Lumel showed no reaction to such a monumental event.
Instead, they were eerily composed.
And upon closer observation, Aslan noticed that Lumel’s eyes were unnervingly dark, like a deep abyss.
A disturbingly “normal” pair of eyes that sent shivers down anyone’s spine.
Seeing this, Aslan shook their head, dismissing it as nothing and thought,
Perhaps the group needed psychological counseling sooner rather than later.
Though Aslan wasn’t sure how to proceed.
Walking onward, Aslan paused as a commotion nearby caught their attention.
Looking in the direction of the noise, it seemed people were gathered near the eastern gate of the fortress.
The murmurs and the crowd were evident.
Turning to Phey for confirmation, Aslan found Phey already gone.
“Phey probably ran off the moment you turned your head. They’ll be back soon.”
True to the prediction, Phey dropped down beside them moments later.
Caught off guard by the swift action, Aslan stared at Phey.
“The soldiers are stopping two people.”
Phey quickly relayed the information. Aslan, momentarily stunned, responded,
“Is that so… Thank you.”
Expressing gratitude, Aslan felt unsettled by Phey’s unsettling grin.
Uncertain how to resolve the issue, Aslan decided to change the subject instead.
“Let’s go check it out.”
Moving forward, the group followed Aslan.
At the center of the group, Angie spoke up,
“Shouldn’t we just wait? Everyone has things to do, and they can’t block the road forever.”
“But aren’t you curious? I am,” Lumel replied, appearing entirely normal.
Angie gave Lumel a sympathetic look, while Ereta, pushed aside by the group, smiled awkwardly and followed behind.
Parting the crowd, Aslan approached and strained to hear the escalating voices.
“—Do you really think sending just two supports makes sense? This is practically challenging the Emperor’s authority!”
The voice suggested someone had caused trouble.
However, Aslan focused on the mention of “two supports” and wondered if it could be true as they pushed through the crowd.
Reaching the front, Aslan’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What is it? Why the look?”
The observant Angie asked worriedly.
“Really just two…?”
Lumel responded with apparent shock.
“Isn’t calling two people ‘support’ a bit of a stretch?”
Ereta placed her hand on her cheek and expressed concern.
Actually, there were only two people standing there.
However,
“…No, there’s only one supporter.”
Aslan corrected them.
Phey frowned in worry at Aslan’s tone, softly calling out their name, but
Aslan remained firm in their opinion.
Aslan recognized the two individuals.
The one to focus on was the towering man in front.
About the same height as Aslan, with arms and legs thick like tree trunks.
Supporting those massive limbs were metallic prosthetic feet shaped like human ones.
The axe strapped to his waist was ordinary, but the hands gripping it were not.
They were hands steeped in battle.
From those hands, up the arms, across the face partially exposed, down the broad chest, and to the waist,
his entire body was covered in intricate tattoos.
All of them were advanced mana tattoos.
The person standing behind looked frail, unsure if they could even fight,
but the one stepping forward was undoubtedly a warrior.
“And one is enough.”
This was none other than Budonggong Astak.
The superhuman who had single-handedly stemmed the tide of the Abyss and saved the Emperor, earning the title of Duke.
Certainly, had Aslan not been around, Phey would have competed with him for the title of Battle Veteran.
Moreover, he was Aslan’s mentor and adoptive father.
At the sound of Aslan’s voice, the elder turned his head and looked at him.
Their eyes met.
Budonggong Astak, upon making eye contact with Aslan, squinted his sharp eyes and approached.
His steps were resolute, each landing with a heavy thud as he neared.
Stopping right in front of Aslan, Astak looked down at him, and Aslan gazed back.
Despite the imposing appearance, the immense strength, and the legendary prowess, which often led to misconceptions,
Budonggong Astak was, in truth, a family-oriented man.
“Have you been well?”
Offering his greeting, Astak pulled Aslan into a warm embrace.
Embarrassed by the hug from someone of similar height, Aslan chuckled awkwardly, while the older man patted his back and said,
“You’ve worked hard.”
Budonggong Astak treated even his adopted son like cherished family.
Astak embraced Aslan warmly and asked,
“Have you been doing well?”
