Aslan spoke with a smile.
The traveling party seemed unsure of how to react upon hearing those words.
They were flustered, confused, and agonized over choosing what to say.
However, while the party was like that, the sounds and reactions coming from the fortress were clear.
A cry of victory. Even though the situation could not fully be called a war, they shouted in celebration of victory and rejoiced.
Many rejoiced at the fact that many had not died, and most importantly, that they themselves had survived.
Even the most loyal soldiers of the empire held their lives dear.
Aslan listened to the sounds without reproach and glanced at the abyssal monsters returning to the abyss.
As Aslan looked at the monsters, he could clearly feel the difference by reflecting on himself.
This difference wasn’t just from relying on the traveling party.
It came from realizing his own imperfections and choosing the frail yet human option of filling in his deficiencies through others.
Of course, Aslan couldn’t guarantee that he would continue to hold onto such choices in the future.
Still, Aslan could at least feel that this choice had entered his life.
One’s nature does not change easily, nor do the true forms of humans readily transform into something else.
At the very least, Aslan realized that he could change based on his nature.
He thought that he could become an ordinary person who achieves things together and finds happiness, rather than someone who accomplishes everything only to meet a tragic death.
Naturally, it was a part of life that required suffering and deep contemplation.
But he thought that this start was enough.
It seemed that the group had noticed as well.
As their expressions and words began to reveal changes to the world, Aslan was prepared to accept whatever response might come.
That thought was soon halted by another phenomenon.
Kwaarrrr!
Suddenly, a sound came from behind.
It sounded like using a giant spoon made of cardboard to scoop up a large amount of liquid.
Only after turning around did Aslan realize that his impression was correct.
The abyss was surging.
It was like an entire world itself, a shadow projected by the abyss onto this fragile world called Geladridion.
Simultaneously, a universal liquid capable of replicating any form of life or phenomenon was rising.
‘Is this emptiness and chaos?’
The dramatic ascent was so intense that it brought about such thoughts.
Aslan’s premonition that the cardboard spoon scooping up the abyss was correct was affirmed as he witnessed the scene.
Just as the wet cardboard tore and the carefully scooped-up liquid spilled, the rising abyss collapsed.
The cheers of the celebrating soldiers ceased, and their faces became stained with fear and anxiety.
The Budonggong, who had been looking fondly at Aslan, reached out and caught the dagger unconsciously thrown by his disciple.
The traveling party also gradually observed the sight, preparing for battle by picking up weapons or taking stances.
Only Aslan remained still.
He realized while observing the rising shape that it was not an attack.
It was more like a rocket, specifically its nose cone.
And as if confirming that thought, something burst out as if escaping from a rocket in an emergency.
From the lower stage of the “rocket,” countless fiends emerged.
At first, Aslan thought that this was a series of hostile actions and perhaps his thoughts and instincts were wrong.
But then, upon seeing the shapes of the fiends and the figure, he confirmed that he was right.
The appearance of the fiends was undeniably terrifying.
Their eye sockets were dark holes with white lights standing alone without any support, and they had emaciated bodies.
Their figures resembled skeletons, but it was immediately clear that they were not bones.
Though emaciated, they were closer to being covered with skin and muscles shriveled from extreme starvation.
They were fiends blackened by death itself.
Within the black, glistening mixture of bone, skin, and muscle, writhed a life that was not truly alive, following something that had emerged from the abyss initially.
An enemy and its summoned fiends? Aslan momentarily thought, but that wasn’t the case.
The black fiends followed the figure and the one who had burst out used their shadow like limbs to stab at the fiends.
However, the shadows that clashed broke and bent helplessly, merely pushing the fiends away.
Each time this happened, the figure drew parabolic arcs as if they were a part of their soul, sharply tilting towards the ground.
It was a plummet.
Aslan swiftly leaped forward among his wary companions.
Still running with the acceleration coursing through his body.
Gripping purity tightly, predicting the landing point, and moving accordingly.
“Grasp!”
The urgent shout. Slightly off from the expected spot, Aslan ran and created a foothold with the force of Grasp, leaping again.
Simultaneously, he extinguished Grasp and grasped purity.
Close! The fiends twisted their necks unnaturally to look at Aslan, despite seemingly having no vertebrae.
However, Aslan’s sword reached them faster than their sharp hands could extend.
Sssaaaak!
Three rushing fiends were simultaneously cut down and fell.
With splashes of falling liquid, Aslan caught the falling figure mid-air and landed.
Kuung, clouds of dust rose.
After landing, Aslan cleared the dust with a wild magic shockwave and looked at the figure cradled in his arms.
The entity falling unconscious.
Covered in streaks of black liquid, with eyes slightly closed.
It was a woman.
Aslan took a breath as he looked at the woman.
It felt sinful to exhale.
Her delicately closed eyelids revealed a faint purple hue beneath.
The long lashes decorating her prominent eyes and her porcelain-like skin.
Her jet-black hair flowing down and clinging to her skin, carrying the color of death.
The faint scent of some unknown wildflower mingled in the air, and Aslan felt the barely perceptible warmth of her lukewarm body in his arms.
The woman was Lewena.
And Lewena was alive, neither breathing nor having a beating heart.
Looking at her slightly trembling eyelids, Aslan exhaled with difficulty.
*
Despite the sudden change in circumstances and various perplexing aspects, the imperial army cooperated with Aslan.
They confined Lewena as Aslan wished.
In a completely shadowless dark room within the fortress, they bound and imprisoned Lewena.
Although the commander initially showed unease for moral reasons, even he became cooperative once he realized she was the infamous “Beryl’s Nightmare.”
Without Aslan even needing to command, they shackled her hands and feet and locked her away.
Through all the commotion, Lewena did not awaken.
As evident from the situation she warned about, the circumstances were far from simple and straightforward, yet the woman who could provide answers remained asleep.
Leaving behind numerous mysterious situations.
Thus, all Aslan could do was wait for her to awaken.
During the waiting process, Aslan gathered the traveling party to apologize and express gratitude.
The party, still clad in their armor, listened attentively to Aslan’s words, appearing weary from the battle.
Each of them occupied a separate spot around the expansive table, maintaining a considerable distance from Aslan.
The spots next to or on Aslan’s lap were left empty.
Ereta seemed inclined to sit beside Aslan, but was deterred by the firm stance of the group, which maintained such distances.
Whether they noticed the subtle cues or assumed it was Aslan’s wish,
either way, Aslan could easily guess the cause of this unnecessary distance-keeping.
They suspected that Aslan might not be Aslan anymore due to behavior he usually didn’t exhibit.
In fact, considering that context, the current silence was hard-won.
To create this silence, Aslan had to answer countless questions.
Fortunately, Aslan had a good memory, allowing him to answer or counter most questions with only a few mistakes.
When the questions ran out, what remained was a mix of emotions flowing through skeptical gazes.
Even amidst hunger and fatigue, the group’s gazes remained fixed on Aslan.
There was one final question lingering in their minds:
“Why did Aslan do such a thing?”
The “such a thing” referred to fighting in a manner uncharacteristic of the usual Aslan—collaborating with the group and avoiding authoritarianism.
Regardless of whether this behavior was appreciated or admirable, it left a lingering question.
Anticipating this unspoken question, Aslan pondered how to respond.
Precisely, how much could he say?
How much should he keep silent about?
What impact would certain words have?
What reverberations would certain statements create?
He deeply deliberated.
A long silence passed, and eventually, Aslan sighed after much contemplation.
He decided he didn’t want to think about it further.
He no longer wanted to interact with the group solely based on gains and losses.
So, he suddenly spoke.
“I am not from Geladridion.”
The initial gaze and attention directed at Aslan were singular, but the senses focusing on him were twofold.
One lacked eyes but possessed a keen tactile sense, while the other had eyes.
Tiamat and Angie, who already knew.
When they subtly betrayed signs of surprise, Aslan glanced at them before addressing the rest of the bewildered group.
“I come from a world called Earth… A world entirely different from Geladridion.”
What followed was a story hard to believe yet lacking elements that couldn’t be trusted when carefully considered.
Aslan explained that he came from a world called Earth, where technology and history differed greatly from Geladridion. In that world, there were no evil deities.
Moreover, the existence of gods themselves was ambiguous.
Therefore, no humans were sacrificed to the overwhelming power of the divine.
After establishing this premise, Aslan spoke of something he had long suppressed.
“Of course, it’s not a paradise. There is pain and tragedy there too. There are wicked humans and those who inadvertently cause tragedies with good intentions. But… there are no evil deities. No beings who toy with the fate of humanity.”
Aslan said this was wrong.
He had always said it was wrong.
He had always spoken against forgiving the existence of those who twist fates in their hands.
“Therefore, I want to change the world.”
It was a self-confession, bordering on drunken ramblings.
Sobriety notwithstanding, it was a string of incoherent words whose intent was unclear.
Yet, perhaps the intent lay precisely in that ambiguity.
“Too… complex a story for my head to follow…”
Richard was troubled.
Lumel silently watched Aslan with a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and caution.
Ereta finally seemed to understand, believing that all of Aslan’s previously incomprehensible behaviors stemmed from this revelation.
Tiamat and Angie were processing the weight of what they had heard, scratching their chins or lowering their eyes.
Phey sat hunched, sensing an unnamed foreboding.
As Aslan scanned everyone, Tiamat spoke up.
“Why are you telling us this now?”
A question Aslan couldn’t immediately answer. Extracting the theme from a lengthy monologue born out of mere impulse was difficult.
“To change the world, I believe one must have a clear image of what they want.”
But ultimately, he managed to pinpoint and articulate it.
It was Aslan’s starting point.
It demonstrated the basis for his claim that only he could change himself and proved that there was no one else who could replace him.
The group understood this.
Truly, Aslan realized that without him, the world could not be saved.
“So far, I’ve believed that only I can save the world. On the other hand, I’ve also wondered how someone like me could possibly change it.”
It was a melancholic doubt.
His self-inflicted sacrifices and sufferings were akin to suppressing that melancholic doubt.
It was also a struggle to assert his identity as Lee Hyun-woo from Earth and to earn the qualification to change the world.
Recalling these facts, Aslan spoke.
“Because of that, I died once and came back to life.”
An abrupt shift in direction. The gazes of those unaware of how he resurrected turned toward him.
“I came back to life as a high priest of the Formless One.”
Before anyone could react to this statement and attack, Aslan continued.
“And in return, the Formless One perished.”
As Ereta’s eyes widened in understanding, Aslan glanced at her and explained.
“The Formless One is the graveyard of heroes like me who were dragged here and became heroes. The Formless One consists of people from Earth who have died this way.”
Earth. Aslan’s homeland.
As Aslan observed each of their reactions, he continued speaking.
“The Formless One is currently dying and being consumed by the Abyss. Those faceless beings we fought today… They are the people from Earth.”
The heroes digested by the Abyss. Fellow beings like Aslan. Though the revelation caused furrowed brows, Richard managed to ask despite his confusion.
“So, is the Abyss our main enemy?”
Aslan shook his head.
“The Abyss is merely a limb… or rather, a beast. The one bringing me here and spreading suffering in this world is another entity altogether. An entity so vast that it can treat the Abyss as a mere beast.”
Naturally, the question followed. Lumel tilted his head curiously.
“Why… are you telling us this?”
“My goal has been to change the world.”
Misaligned answers. When Lumel closed his mouth to hear the continuation, Aslan looked around at the group.
To change the world, one must fight against that vast entity.
And goals like simply saving the world or killing evil deities would fail.
If there’s no way back, Aslan would tread the same path as those who have failed before, becoming evil deities and eventually being devoured by them.
Those evil deities themselves are manipulated and used by the vast entity to create more evil deities.
There are few ways to oppose it, almost impossible ones.
Since the path leads to a swamp of unhappiness, failure is certain.
Therefore, Aslan spoke.
“But not anymore. I… want to destroy all the evil deities and find happiness.”
Aslan wanted to return.
Whether to Earth or Geladridion.
He needed a place to belong.
“Together with you, I hope you all find happiness.”
He needed people for that place.
People to walk and fight with.
The comrades tied to Aslan through divine power were exactly those people.
Aslan believed in happy families and happy lives.
“Finding happiness together. Surviving the evil deities… That’s my goal.”
Not to defeat the evil deities or change the world,
but to survive.
This goal elicited varied reactions from each member.
Among the diverse responses, Ereta was the first to muster courage.
“Aslan… then…”
Knock knock.
Before she could finish her sentence, a knocking sound was heard, and the door abruptly opened.
Behind Ereta’s disappointed expression, a man entered.
A man extremely flustered, drenched in sweat as if it were raining.
Likely having run all the way from the deepest parts of the fortress.
This ordinary soldier panted and declared,
“She’s awake!”
There was no need to ask whom he meant.
Aslan moved his feet and headed straight to the deepest part of the fortress where Lewena was imprisoned.
By evening, the sun had set, leaving only elongated moon shadows.
Aslan finally faced her.
Chained to the wall with metal cuffs binding her arms, shackles on her legs,
her tattered, worn-out black silk dress was torn but gave an affectionate rather than a shabby impression.
With a faint, fading smile, the woman looked at Aslan.
Her flesh was scarred.
They weren’t new scars.
Even though Aslan’s expression was hidden in the darkness, the woman smiled contentedly as if satisfied with his sorrowful look.
“Hello, Hyun-woo.”
In response to Lewena’s greeting, Aslan couldn’t utter a single word.
