Aslan and a certain middle-aged man.
Seeing the two of them embrace, the traveling party revealed no small amount of bewilderment.
Considering who Aslan was, it was a natural reaction.
Aslan was someone who liked humans but tended to keep away from human relationships.
Even his usual demeanor suggested that.
A lonely atmosphere with melancholy-filled eyes, and as if to prove that, a past filled with enemies and losses.
At a glance, Aslan seemed like a lonely person, and thus the traveling party watched the current situation with considerable unease.
Because Aslan was not the type to exchange embraces with others.
Unaware of their unease or not, the middle-aged man patted Aslan’s back.
It was as though he were handling a child.
“Nice… to see you again.”
Aslan replied awkwardly. As the traveling party regained their senses from that reply and calmed their unease, they began to observe the middle-aged man.
Surprisingly, other things started to catch their eye.
For instance, Budonggong’s body.
Budonggong’s body—one leg was prosthetic.
A meticulously and artistically crafted leg.
Made of what appeared to be white steel, the prosthetic was a high-end product, even detailing the shape of the toes.
The ground beneath the foot seemed more deeply pressed than where the boots touched, suggesting it was quite heavy.
Remarkably, until now, none had noticed he wore a prosthetic.
His measured and composed gait made it seem as if both legs were perfectly intact.
A posture so balanced it was impossible to tell one leg was prosthetic.
The solid and thick muscles supporting that posture.
As if proving this, Budonggong, embracing Aslan, appeared larger despite being slightly shorter than Aslan.
His massive build accentuated muscles like the sternocleidomastoid, giving him a round yet rugged appearance.
The tattoos engraved on those muscles were also the result of intricate work.
Thus, the veterans among the party realized the middle-aged man was a formidable expert.
An expert who had pushed themselves to extremes, honing their skills and utilizing all available means.
One whose prowess matched Aslan’s claim that they alone could suffice as backup.
And the party recognized another figure in his presence.
The combat veteran, Aslan.
While some in the party instinctively mulled over these realizations, Astak released Aslan from the embrace.
“You’ve grown too thin.”
The moment the embrace ended, those were his words.
A remark hard to imagine coming from a face that looked strict and solemn.
Aslan’s body was inspected silently, and the comment resembled something a father, typically reserved for an eight-armed warrior, would say.
Aslan chuckled awkwardly in response to the concern.
“I lost my sense of taste for a while, so I became negligent… and thus it happened.”
“Still, you must eat well. A warrior’s meal is their blood and flesh.”
With a stern voice, he gave that advice and concluded by adding:
“But since it was only temporary, there’s no need to worry. I trust you’ll handle it yourself.”
Beneath the seemingly emotionless tone lay deep trust.
And following that was observation.
The fatherly gaze thoroughly inspecting the adopted son’s body after a long absence.
It was only a matter of time before his eyes reached the arm.
“This is…”
The arm covered entirely with blackened scales, its sharp claws indicating it wasn’t Aslan’s original arm—it belonged to the Dragon King, now part of Aslan’s soul.
“You’ve acquired a fine arm.”
Astak said this upon seeing the arm.
His demeanor suggested he wouldn’t reprimand for losing the arm itself.
There was nothing strange about it.
Given that he himself wore a white steel prosthetic, it would be awkward to criticize such matters.
Most importantly, he was a warrior of the Varmanz lineage.
Losing body parts was natural for warriors.
Thus, he concluded his inspection of Aslan’s body with that.
The result was simple.
“Contrary to what I’ve heard, your body looks perfectly fine. I heard you died.”
Contrary to the rumors.
Upon hearing this, Aslan realized the reason Budonggong had come here wasn’t solely to assist in the Abyss expedition.
He had come to investigate who dared impersonate his son.
Realizing this, Aslan, feigning embarrassment, said,
“I’ll explain later.”
This place wasn’t just between Aslan and Astak.
Added to the group showing unstable behavior were the imperial soldiers harboring strong animosity toward evil deities.
Especially since Aslan hadn’t even explained how he resurrected to the group, he couldn’t possibly tell them he came back to life through the help of a formless entity.
If the already unstable group misunderstood because of this fact, it would be difficult to resolve.
For that reason, Aslan postponed the explanation.
“Well, do it when you want. Then…”
Budonggong tapped Aslan’s shoulder with his large hand, as if understanding.
But then, Astak glanced behind Aslan, almost as if substituting something.
Eyes that hardly betrayed any emotion. Those eyes swept over the traveling party and paused.
Gazing intently at each member, the look carried a vivid curiosity.
Those eyes kept moving between Ereta, Lumel, and Angie.
“…Master?”
When Aslan called Astak with an uneasy expression due to the gaze and silence, Astak turned his serious face toward Aslan.
With his characteristic solemn expression, he asked,
“So, which one of them is your spouse?”
There was no follow-up.
Silence flowed, and the only movements were the exchanged glances among the three women and the uncomfortable expression of the Elven Girl.
*
If one were to pick the strongest in the southern continent, his name would inevitably come up.
The superhuman, Budonggong Astak.
Under his name stood numerous accomplishments.
A famous example was when the Abyss flooded, endangering the Emperor, and he didn’t take a single step back, blocking the Abyss right in front of the Emperor.
The rushing dark shadows and monsters.
No matter how steadfast and belief-driven the knights might have been, they would surely die, and no skilled mercenaries could stop the flood of the Abyss.
The man fought against the Abyss with just two axes.
When the axes broke, he picked up weapons from fallen soldiers off the ground and used them; when that wasn’t possible, he killed the overflowing monsters from the Abyss with his fists and feet without taking a single step back.
Thus, the Emperor bestowed upon him the title of Duke along with the honorific “Budonggong,” having blocked the Abyss.
Afterward, he took guarding the Abyss as his profession at Liam, a fortress where the inside and outside were reversed.
So naturally, people who saw him thought:
Given that he faced the Abyss itself, the world of evil deities, without retreating, he must be a serious and heroic figure.
Heroic can be rephrased as inhuman, and the imperial soldiers who thought of him as lacking humanity were shocked by Budonggong’s appearance.
Budonggong did not punish the soldier who blocked his path, failing to recognize him.
Instead, he patted the trembling soldier’s shoulder.
And he said,
The mistake was his own for coming alone without prior notice.
You were merely trying to do the right thing within your common sense.
When the soldier relaxed at those words, he immediately left with his adopted son and disciple, Aslan.
Guided by his adopted son, he headed toward the lodging he would stay in.
Thus, the group consisting of the traveling party, Astak, and the offspring walked somewhere.
The gazes naturally followed the group of people crossing the fortress. The emotions embedded in those gazes were diverse.
They soon converged into a similar impression.
Due to an incident during their journey, people had no choice but to discard their first impression of Budonggong.
“Can Phey ride on me?”
First, Budonggong allowed Phey to ride on his steed.
So Phey sat perched on Budonggong’s broad shoulders.
“Do you… mind if I eat this?”
“Of course not. If you want more, just let me know, little one.”
Candy was in the girl’s mouth.
Candy. Made from Aslan’s crude knowledge and Budonggong’s hobby.
Though not overly sweet, it was a rare, perhaps the only, item in Geladridion.
Budonggong, handing it over to Phey, who looked like a child, was quietly rejoicing as he walked among the group—a joy only Aslan could notice.
Because of this, people discarded their first impression of Budonggong as serious, inhuman, and heroically fit to block the Abyss.
Rather, Budonggong was a very domestic man.
Moreover, he cherished children.
This information, unavailable in the game, was something Aslan discovered after starting his journey in the vast plains of Geladridion.
Had he not been a person who cherished children, perhaps Aslan would have been abandoned instead of rescued, leading to a quick bad ending.
Therefore, Aslan willingly accepted this trait of his foster father.
In reality, it wasn’t a bad character.
Caring for family and liking children were good traits rather than bad ones.
Though not ideal in situations like the present where many eyes were on them.
The sight of a renowned warrior across the continent carrying a fairy girl on his shoulders naturally drew the attention of many soldiers.
Had his luck been lower, it might have been different, but now with heightened luck and restored senses, it was bound to be problematic.
Each gaze felt directed at Aslan or the traveling party.
Amidst the countless gazes, Aslan couldn’t perceive his adoptive father’s eyes observing him and the group.
Eventually, when they reached the citadel where Astak would stay, he made his judgment.
By the time most of the party, initially wary of Astak, had dispersed, and Phey had stepped down from the steed citing things to do and left her seat, the moment arrived.
Just as Aslan, who had guided Astak to his quarters, was about to turn around—
“Aslan.”
Suddenly, Budonggong called out Aslan’s name.
In a manner that hinted at hidden intent, softly.
A tone subtle enough to compel Aslan to turn his head.
By the time Aslan, drawn by the voice, turned to look at the middle-aged man with golden beard and cropped hair—
He noticed that everyone from the party had gone far enough not to hear.
That was Budonggong’s intention.
He spoke the words he intended.
“Kehil.”
Just as Aslan’s words to Frida had startled her,
Aslan stiffened at the word spoken by Astak.
It was, after all, the most crucial part for Aslan to achieve a happy ending.
Hence, Aslan’s reaction was close to what Budonggong had anticipated.
“Indeed,” murmured the middle-aged man. He stared silently at Aslan.
“Do you intend to use Kehil?”
The throne of the gods, Kehil.
That hidden ruin was the center of the veil woven by sorrow and death,
and simultaneously the only place that could open that veil.
Somewhere along the way, Astak had an axe in his hand.
