‘What is this…?’
The white-hot axe blade. Its light, form, and even its name were something Aslan had never encountered before.
It was strange from the moment the broken letters appeared in the system window.
In the twelve years that Aslan had been wandering, had there ever been a time when the system window displayed an error?
No, not once.
Even during the times of the game, he had never heard of a bug that caused letters to break.
‘It’s not hot. What effect is this?’
Aslan brushed the axe blade with his other hand, concluding that the white light did not bear the qualities of flame or heat.
In fact, there was a faintly cold sensation lingering on the axe.
What he was supposed to clear and what he was supposed to obtain was completely lost on him, as the broken letters left him unable to even guess.
Aslan, visibly flustered as he stared at the axe, realized after a moment of contemplation that he could feel heat right beside him.
“…What?”
At that moment, a gust of hot wind rushed towards him. The scent of sulfur and fire thickly filled the air, swirling around his hair.
Through the strands of hair fluttering in front of his eyes, Aslan witnessed an unexpected sight.
Ereta, her arms, legs, head, and waist shredded into bits, was regenerating.
It was an incredibly bewildering scene.
Aslan had killed Ereta himself.
Wondering if her regenerative abilities remained, he had sliced her into pieces to the limit using his Shadow Split.
After cutting her into pieces, he had even decapitated her. No matter how remarkable her regenerative powers were as a high priestess of the fire-shedding spider, the wounds he inflicted should have been lethal.
Especially as she was a high priestess of inevitability of the universe, which was weaker than other deities, and a virgin saint of slaughter who could not abandon her human form.
She could not possibly survive.
But beyond that clear perception and logic, Ereta was regenerating.
Amid this regeneration, Aslan caught a whiff of the scent of fire and saw some form taking shape.
Ereta’s shadow, the shadow that had been chopped into pieces, was writhing in an incomprehensible form.
Aslan began to piece together the truth and spat it out.
“The fire-shedding spider…!”
A high priestess is a limb and an avatar of a deity.
High priests receive tremendous powers, and their connection to the deity is robust.
Consequently, if the god is ‘less transcendent,’ they can develop an attachment to their high priest.
Ereta, the virgin saint of slaughter.
She was undoubtedly a priestess who bore the favor of the fire-shedding spider.
Aslan, stumbling backward, lifted himself up upon witnessing Ereta regenerating while exuding intense heat.
“Even if your status falls… you’re saying that’s fine…!”
The world is closed. The last struggle of one of the ancient gods of sorrow and death had caused the world to close ambiguously, limiting the power that gods could send down to merely creating their priests.
Unless one pushed their divinity to the limit and forced it through.
Now, the fire-shedding spider was doing just that to resurrect Ereta.
It was self-harm using its divinity, a paradoxical act of tearing its own flesh and feeding it to its avatar.
The outcome of that action was clear. The fire-shedding spider would gain a resurrected Ereta, and its divinity would diminish, weakening its powers.
Other deities would either try to devour the fire-shedding spider or target it, and perhaps even the strength of the entire inevitable cult of the universe would significantly decrease.
Despite all those consequences, the fire-shedding spider continued its actions.
Amidst his bewilderment, Aslan sought a solution.
“You crazy bastard, are you really willing to go that far?!”
First, Aslan tightened his grip on the axe.
He could swing his weapon to further smash the body to prevent regeneration, but his body was already at its limit.
A body worn to the bone, bleeding perilously as death approached by the second.
Using wild magic to block the injuries was hampered by his depleted mana.
Even if he managed to overcome all those conditions and smashed the corpse, it wouldn’t resolve the fundamental issue.
The divinity he had already sent down was pouring into Ereta’s body, making her regenerate faster than he could destroy her.
Aslan lifted his arms, avoiding the flickering tongue of fire, and bit down on his teeth.
‘What means do I have that I can use? Is there a way to stop that…!’
All he had was metal heating and an axe. But destruction wasn’t a fundamental answer. Still, he had no other choice.
Just when Aslan was left with no choice but to choose destruction, gripping the axe with both hands.
[!! Effect of 飮쒖닔 !!]
[Can sever the connection between god and priest.]
[As long as the user’s will exists, it won’t extinguish.]
[怨좊?邑좎쓽 賃섏뿉 恁몄쓳壬섏뿬 淫깆옣壬⑸땲宥ｌ]
A twisted and broken system window appeared momentarily before Aslan’s eyes and quickly vanished.
The form of its disappearance resembled being overwritten, and when Aslan blinked, an empty main quest was what he saw.
‘It can sever the connection between… god and priest?’
An opportune appearance. The timing of this effect was fantastically perfect.
Aslan’s first thought was whether this was his hallucination or a scam.
It had appeared too opportunely, raising suspicion first. It was the instinct that had kept Aslan alive for twelve years.
Amidst the increasingly fierce heat, Aslan cast a glance at the axe.
The white light flowing along the axe blade seemed to shine defiantly even amidst the scorching flames, as if urging him to believe in himself.
It felt dubious.
But there was no alternative.
Only a bad option existed, with neither right nor wrong. The choice was obvious.
Aslan grit his teeth again and exhaled deeply. While his lungs felt as though they were being seared by the hot wind, just beyond his wide-open eyes, he could see Ereta almost completely regenerated.
It was a far from easy twelve years, evading flames and water without resorting to means.
To survive, he would do anything. He would return by any means necessary.
That was Aslan’s resolve.
For that resolve, it wasn’t a big deal to resort to a gamble in the current crisis.
Aslan firmly gripped the axe and leaped forward.
KuoOOOOO!
The incoming heat sounded like the roar of some monster, amidst which blended a woman’s voice and a grotesque wailing.
The wailing was hoisting Ereta’s body up, now bathed in a heat that was beginning to turn red.
Almost completely regenerated, her body was intact. Even amidst the flames, it remained whole.
That body rose up. It was clean, but perhaps conscious of nothing, showing her rolled-back pupils.
Behind that woman, a strange shape resembling a spider but different from one, with dozens of legs, flames like a mane, and sixteen eyes, revealed itself.
It was the fire-shedding spider.
Aslan, witnessing the writhing shape of the deity between shadows and flames, ignored the pounding headache that was washing over him and advanced.
“Ah… Aslan…”
Ereta’s neck reattached. It burned and connected. The flames rising from her wounds surged as her fist barreled toward Aslan.
With a quick movement of lowering his body, Aslan ducked to evade the cannonball-like strike aimed at his head. As the flames and fist whizzed over his head, his hair blew wildly.
The fire-shedding spider opened its mouth wide, using Ereta to unleash flames, when Aslan finally managed to move his seemingly frozen elbow. He held the axe firmly with both hands and swung it upward diagonally.
Chwa-jak!
Aslan’s wounds split open again as blood spewed forth in response to the swung path, but his axe traced a perfect trajectory. Even in his tattered state, his technique held steadfast without the slightest wobble.
The diagonal strike glowed white, slicing from Ereta’s side to her shoulder.
Pu-wah!
As blood flowed alongside flames from that cut, Ereta’s body collapsed as if losing all strength.
The wound was perfectly healed.
But it was not the shape that had been hovering behind Ereta.
The figure of the fire-shedding spider had been grievously split by the diagonal, spewing fire and blood, furiously enraged.
That figure slowly distanced itself from Ereta. It fell away. The figure that had entirely overshadowed her was being pushed away from Ereta and was being sucked somewhere.
‘Really, has the connection been severed?’
Aslan saw the figure that had peeled away from the fallen Ereta, wildly flailing its legs in a convulsion.
This was not merely a temporary severance. It was nearly completely disconnected. Aslan noticed this, and the shape of the spider let out a heart-wrenching wail.
Kii E E E E E E A A A A A A A A!
That bitter wail evoked the image of a child crying over having a toy taken away.
Hearing it, Aslan was convinced that the connection had indeed been severed.
He was certain it was the lament of a god who had lost its beloved toy, one it desperately wished to resurrect by pouring its divinity into it.
Ereta had merely returned to being human.
In that moment, Aslan lifted the corners of his mouth, and the spider’s shape lunged at him, manipulating the residual divinity.
Aslan remained undaunted by the sight of the massive fiery spider charging at him.
“If it’s something you treasured so much…”
He simply raised the axe. Dealing with a beast charging in a straightforward line was easy.
“Feel free to take it all back.”
He stepped forward, stabilizing himself with his broken leg, and swung the axe down.
As the rushing flames touched the white-hot axe, they flared bright and shattered.
Kii I I I I I I I I I!
“So eat shit and disappear.”
The moment the axe struck down, the spider let out a death-like scream. The split shape of the spider burst into flames, turning white alongside the divinity.
The moment the white light contained in Aslan’s axe was reined in.
Puhhhhhh!
The spider’s figure exploded.
Simultaneously, the ominous aura emanating from the fire-shedding spider vanished as if swept away.
Severely damaged from Aslan’s divinity, the fire-shedding spider disappeared with its divinity injured, and Aslan stood alone between the unconscious Ereta and Angie.
Aslan let out a sigh of relief, particularly at the realization that Ereta was unconscious.
It was time to return.
*
“…Is it bearable?”
“More than the others. Is the duke alright?”
“Just a little tired.”
Among the heaps of spider monster corpses and those of humanoid monsters mixed with spider traits, stood the duke’s soldiers, the duke, and Harrod.
Though everyone had different families and homes, they leaned against each other as if they were closer than family.
Among the lined-up soldiers’ shields, several corpses lay in place, dead.
Harrod stood at the center, holding a club made from a sharpened spear and a shield with holes in it.
Several fingers on the hand gripping the shield were missing, and the shield was already strapped to his arm.
Fortunately, one hand was intact, so he was in a better state than others.
More than thirty soldiers had died or been injured, and not even ten were completely unscathed.
Even including the duke himself, there were none without injuries.
Duke Gengiru walked through the exhausted and drained soldiers, wielding a longsword. His role was to eliminate any monsters breaking through the formation.
They had triumphed.
Though faced with seemingly endless monsters and acolytes without fully using the terrain’s advantages, the soldiers had managed to win thanks to their exertion, excellent training, and the personal strength of both the duke and Harrod.
As arduous as the battle had been, the duke and his soldiers could not let their guard down.
If they relaxed, and a monster popped out, then defeat would be all but inevitable.
As everyone remained on high alert, gripping their weapons tightly, someone suddenly burst out from the bushes.
The soldier at the front flinched and lunged forward with his spear, but the thrust was easily caught.
“…That’s dangerous.”
It was Aslan.
Aslan had collapsed two fainted women on either side, shouldering them.
The spear tip caught just before his face was soaked with the bodily fluids of the monster.
“Ugh, uh…”
The soldier was flustered.
It wasn’t just because his weapon had been caught, or that he felt embarrassed thinking Aslan was an enemy.
Aslan walked past the flustered soldier and stepped into the ranks of soldiers. The soldiers holding shields made way, and Harrod’s face revealed his surprise despite being a dignified companion.
Thud.
Everywhere Aslan walked, blood flowed, and his footprints were unnaturally red.
Not a single inch of him was unstained with blood, and his usually cool turquoise eyes were already dulled. He stopped at the back, where wounded soldiers and corpses lay together.
“O great flame…”
Harrod was aghast.
“You…”
Amidst the duke’s surprised but barely composed voice.
Aslan dropped Ereta, whom he had been shouldering, onto the ground.
“This is… the high priestess who is no longer a high priestess. The virgin saint of slaughter, Ereta. Please don’t kill her, just confine her. She no longer possesses any strength beyond that of a human.”
A soft voice. As no one answered, Aslan seemed to sway dangerously while still holding Angie and then slowly laid Angie on the ground.
Aslan, who had bent down to set Angie down, did not rise again.
“Please, heal her.”
After leaving those words, Aslan crumpled. He fell forward, and though his face was hidden from view, blood steadily streamed from his abdomen in an alarming flow.
The trail Aslan had made from bursting out of the bushes to where he now lay formed a long path of blood.
Five seconds elapsed where everyone stared, mouths agape, at the traces.
After a brief moment of silence, all soldiers moved without exception.
For urgent treatment and evacuation.
