The axe Astak drew.
As plain as it may be, in the hands of a master, it was ready to unleash slaughter.
Aslan could guess Astak’s misunderstanding when he saw the weapon.
Even so, wasn’t he still Aslan’s adoptive father and teacher?
Aslan had spent a year with Astak.
He had also seen Astak several times in the game.
For such an Aslan, figuring out Astak’s thoughts wasn’t difficult.
The throne of the gods, Kehil.
This ruin was hidden, not only the final stage of the game but also a place one must visit to witness the evil deity ending.
The interactions typically possible there were simple.
Either pull back the veil or stop the enemies coming to remove it.
Given this prior knowledge, Astak’s suspicion was justified.
However, Aslan couldn’t reveal his plans hastily.
This plan had to remain within himself.
This was the only way to defeat the deity and simultaneously the only way for Aslan to achieve a happy ending.
For this plan, Aslan hadn’t prepared a Plan B.
If the plan failed and was exposed or blocked, Aslan had no other options.
Thus, even while his teacher and adoptive father Astak drew his axe, Aslan quietly observed the situation.
He couldn’t tell the truth.
“Will you not speak?”
Axe in hand, Astak stared steadily at Aslan.
Aslan glanced at the axe and said,
“I cannot speak.”
Silence flowed. As the light scattered faintly along the axe he held, Aslan added,
“There are too many listening ears.”
Listening ears.
Astak fell silent and met Aslan’s gaze.
It was a situation where he could have lied if he wanted to.
But he didn’t.
Even refraining from lying might itself be a form of disguise. Aslan believed he needed to assert himself aggressively right now.
In any case, here he had two choices: either lie and leave the future to fate or leave everything to luck like now.
And Aslan didn’t want to increase variables in the future.
Therefore, what Aslan chose was to emphasize that he couldn’t say anything.
Astak wasn’t stupid; he would understand.
“Hmm, listening ears.”
Muttering, Astak didn’t interpret this as implying eavesdroppers present in this location.
If there were eavesdroppers, Astak would have sensed them directly, so he understood this as hinting at some other presence.
‘I see. The evil deity, then.’
He deduced that Aslan was targeting the evil deity, which was correct.
Soon after, Astak let out a deep sigh and slid the axe back into his belt, fully aware that Aslan was watching his waist.
This series of actions appeared radical at first glance but wasn’t really so.
No matter how domestic and family-oriented Astak might be, even he would try to prevent the world’s destruction if there was a possibility.
Kehil was that significant an issue.
During this time, he must have heard stories about Aslan.
Stories that couldn’t just be ignored.
Rumors of his death had spread widely, so there was no way Astak could have dismissed them casually.
Certainly, he must have investigated Aslan’s death.
Through that investigation, he would have learned the truth: that Aslan had truly died and how.
That after death, his body had turned into white steel and was buried as it was.
So when the son who had come back to life appeared before him, showing clear knowledge about Kehil, Astak couldn’t help but suspect.
There was ample possibility that Aslan was impersonated by a priest of the evil deity.
Astak wasn’t someone dull in this regard.
He was a thorough man worthy of being a top-tier warrior.
Thus, Aslan instinctively realized that Astak’s suspicion towards him hadn’t dissipated yet.
Now, Astak had changed his plan.
He would probably start asking various questions to probe further.
However, Aslan had no intention of playing along with that.
To sway in such a situation would be the act of amateurs.
Countering was the most appropriate response.
Aslan opened his mouth.
“Are you curious about how I came back to life?”
The Budonggong paused mid-motion of putting away the axe. A piercing gaze directed at Aslan. An emotionless expression. Yet his wrist stiffened.
“I revived as a high priest of the Formless One.”
With that stiffness, the wrist flicked sharply as if responding to Aslan’s words.
Then the axe flew. Though unsuitable for throwing, it cut through the air in a perfect arc, aiming for Aslan’s head.
Aslan deflected the axe flying towards his head with a swing of his left hand.
Kaang!
The ringing metallic sound. Pushed away by the extraordinary durability of the Dragon King’s arm, the axe rebounded.
Astak didn’t stop there. With a step forward and a twist of his body, a hidden sword emerged from his waist and cried out.
“Aaaah!”
An accurate slash. A devastating blow that would split an ordinary person in half upon impact. In response, Aslan caught the rebounding axe.
Kaang!
The metallic sound subsided. It was the sound of Aslan catching the sword blade precisely at the point where the axe handle bent.
Creak.
Attempting to crush the sword with one hand, the blade was forced down. However, the arm holding the axe belonged to the Dragon King.
Though the sword blade grazed his hand, it couldn’t leave a scratch on the Dragon King’s arm.
When the sword was thus restrained, Budonggong tried to disengage and continue the attack.
“Let’s talk, Master.”
As Aslan spoke, the veteran narrowed his eyes and raised his head.
Meeting Aslan’s gaze, the old man squinted curiously.
At that moment, Astak interpreted Aslan’s words as revealing his true colors and attacking.
Thus, he decided to suppress him with a preemptive strike.
Yet the strength of Aslan resisting him now, though impressive, was certainly not inhuman.
Of course, it was strong.
It wasn’t human-level strength.
But it didn’t feel like the strength of a priest either.
Aslan’s strength was rather technical.
Moreover, it was strength built on techniques taught directly by Budonggong.
For that reason, Budonggong hesitated, and seeing that hesitation, Aslan said,
“The Formless One died as the price for reviving me. Therefore, I am not a priest anymore.”
Quietly glaring at Aslan, the adoptive father. Aslan met his gaze and read his intentions.
He was likely guessing the truthfulness of these words while contemplating whether the Aslan before him was genuine.
Aslan had pondered the same thing.
Could this Aslan really be the previous Aslan?
Perhaps it was a fake created by the evil deity?
Such doubts were natural for Aslan.
Even before dying, Aslan had thought that all this pain and journey might be fake or a hallucination he saw while dying.
However, after much deliberation, Aslan could decide.
He was the real Aslan, and his actions were entirely his own, not dictated by the evil deity’s will.
What the reality truly was, none could know.
Yet one couldn’t stop just because they didn’t know.
The only thing one could do was to believe and move forward.
For that reason, Aslan optimistically viewed his situation.
All of this felt unnecessarily complicated to be part of the evil deity’s conspiracy.
There was no need for a monk to deliver the message to become happy.
If they intended to control him, burdening him with more obligations would have been sufficient.
Thus, Aslan confidently declared,
“I am Aslan.”
Ka-chunk. Amid the clashing metal pieces, Aslan’s emerald green eyes blazed.
“My actions are entirely my own will, and I’ve decided by my will to kill the evil deity.”
Budonggong gazed silently at Aslan for a while before stepping back.
The entangled axe and sword blade parted, and Budonggong sheathed his sword.
Aslan approached the retreating Budonggong and handed over the axe.
The middle-aged man accepted it with a face devoid of expression but subtly tinged with caution.
“Sorry.”
His lips, however, disregarded the caution. Returning the axe, Budonggong spoke.
Aslan smiled awkwardly at his adoptive father.
Considering the actions taken at Kehil could lead to Geladridion’s downfall, those actions were justified.
“You have nothing to apologize for. If you hadn’t done that, I would’ve doubted you.”
A faint smile appeared. Budonggong nodded slightly.
Grateful for understanding, the fleeting smile disappeared as he began speaking, transitioning directly from one main topic to another.
“There’s something I need to say. About your traveling party…”
Just as Aslan anticipated what would come next, the moment arrived.
Deng—Deng—Deng—
The grating metallic sound. The tolling of bells.
The sound came from outside.
Both Aslan and Budonggong stopped their conversation and looked outside.
That bell.
Anyone hearing it would recognize its ominous tone. It was the bell that rang when the Abyss’s movements were detected.
Even without knowing this information beforehand, it was chosen to signal something unusual.
In short, it was unmistakably ominous.
Of course, for Aslan, it was an unnecessary alert.
[Ongoing Main Quest]
[Defeat High Priest Enomoto Jyun, the Reincarnation Sage]
[Defeat Adam Snyder, the Immortal Knight]
Seeing the system message flashing in the corner of his vision, Aslan moved.
*
Ereta ran.
Her destination was clear, but what she sought was nowhere to be found.
So, scanning her surroundings frantically, she dashed toward the fortress’s outer wall.
Her running steps echoed roughly with her heartbeat, and the bells tolled incessantly.
Deng—Deng—De—Crack!
Suddenly, the bell collapsed.
Struck by a massive flame, it buckled and crumbled.
Chunks of falling rocks and debris, fiery metal pieces entangled soldiers, causing them to fall and die. Ereta frowned at the sight.
Zzzzang!
She kicked the rolling bell aside, saving the soldiers struggling to evade behind her.
Naturally, gratitude followed, but Ereta paid no heed and continued running.
Running, rescuing, smashing falling debris, the woman sprinted toward the outer wall.
Finally reaching the outer wall, she scanned for familiar faces and was disappointed.
Ereta hoped Aslan would be there.
She hoped Aslan would be safe in this spot.
Unfortunately, the only person present was Angie.
Angie turned her cheerful face toward the sound of footsteps but immediately furrowed her brow and muttered a curse.
Ereta glared at Angie with a sullen expression, and Angie quickly added an apology, though another question followed almost instantly.
“Aslan? Haven’t you seen Aslan?”
Looking anxiously beyond the city walls, Angie asked urgently. Ereta shook her head.
“I thought Aslan would be here… I don’t know.”
“Shit… Where is he?”
Gripping the worn-out wall tightly, Angie murmured anxiously.
The wall corners eroded under her grip, but the woman paid no attention.
Beyond the crumbling wall lay countless monsters.
Monstrous shapes resembling black liquid.
Among them stood two distinctive figures.
One looked like a typical fantasy wizard to Aslan’s eyes but gave off a mysterious impression to Angie—a young man in a robe.
And a knight clad in heavy armor, towering over two meters tall.
Seeing them, Angie bit her lip. The blood that flowed quickly regenerated and stopped.
“Shit.”
Angie recalled how Aslan always noticed such crisis situations or sudden changes swiftly.
As if receiving some kind of revelation.
She guessed it would be the same this time.
‘Even though he hasn’t shown up yet…’
Leaving things as they were, Aslan might go off to fight alone again.
“That can’t happen.”
At the mutter, Ereta turned around to find Angie releasing the wall she had been gripping.
Crumbling stones fell. Angie wiped her hands and clenched her teeth.
Eyeing the approaching enemies, Angie thought:
Just as Aslan disliked losing comrades or witnessing others’ deaths and injuries, moving forward alone, so too must Angie step forward if she didn’t want to lose Aslan.
Not wanting to lose anyone else, Angie decided to take the risk.
“I’m going.”
Thus, Angie declared.
Ereta, who had been asked for help, was surprised and tried to stop her.
“Just wait a moment! We don’t know the enemy! Let’s call Aslan and go together…”
“Are you suggesting we lose him again?”
Angie’s words didn’t reach Ereta.
Turning to Ereta with a fierce look, Angie muttered.
“I can’t bear to see that happen.”
A hollow laugh arose, and Angie spat.
“Rather, let me die instead.”
While Ereta lost her words to the cold glare and bitter tone, Angie threw herself over the wall.
The lithe figure leaped lightly. Her somewhat tall stature and long legs struck the ground, sending up fine dust.
Approaching monsters. Despite the raining arrows, the black specters advanced resolutely.
Boom!
As they approached, Angie slowly drew her greatsword from behind her back.
Removing the blade resembling flames from the scabbard designed to carry it, Angie opened her eyes.
Amid the swirling dust, golden pupils gleamed fiercely.
“I’ll protect Aslan.”
With that vow—or rather, a voice filled with anger—Angie stepped forward.
