“Huh, huuu. Kyaahhh!”
As soon as Ereta opened her eyes, she let out a scream.
This scream was partly due to the fact that it came from the moment her last memory had shattered into pieces.
But it was also because the powerful divine power that should have coursed through her body was no longer present.
A high priest is a close confidant and avatar of the deity, strongly connected to the god. The power residing in their flesh originates from the deity.
A high priest disconnected from the deity is merely human. If the body had been altered by divine power, it cannot escape the consequences and will suffer harm.
Take the martial monk for example; the moment their connection to the deity is severed, they collapse and die from within.
They are strangled by their own muscles.
Fortunately, Ereta had not altered her body.
Because her body remained entirely human, she did not immediately perish when the connection was severed.
There was no threat to her life. No sense of alienation in her body. Her perfectly restored flesh sent no signals of pain whatsoever.
“Kk…kkheeuuk…huh, ah, uh, Mother… where are you…?”
The reason this woman cried out was solely due to a profound sense of loss.
The overwhelming power that had filled her entire being was gone, and the intense presence born from her connection to the deity had vanished.
As a result, the woman gasped and writhed in agony.
After much screaming and shedding tears, the saint, Ereta, finally realized her situation.
“Prison…”
Ereta belatedly noticed that she was in a prison. Shackles bound her ankles, and though it was dark and difficult to see clearly, iron bars were visible before her.
She could feel it.
The reality of her defeat.
When the woman looked down with an expression of benevolence, revealing sorrow and mockery unseen until now, the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears.
It sounded as if the hard stone floor was exchanging sounds between iron boots and leather boots several times. The sound gradually drew nearer.
A predator who had lived all her life with heightened senses and abilities beyond human limits slowly rose at the sound.
“…Would you like something? If anything happens…”
“…No. In any case…”
The distant voices were too faint and echoed too much to understand their meaning.
It was difficult for the weakened saint to make any guesses.
Ultimately, the woman had no choice but to wait silently. She waited until the footsteps approached and stopped in front of the iron bars.
Taking a step back and hiding in the shadows, the vague figure recognized someone standing before the iron bars, looking at her.
Their eyes met.
“…”
The piercing, cold gaze made the woman instinctively recall her death.
Arms, legs, torso.
The relentless sweeps of the axe blade left no openings, and even with the enhanced senses of a high priest, there was no way to discern its pattern.
In the end, her head was cut off.
Ereta’s legs went limp, and she collapsed, breathing heavily.
She feared Aslan.
She feared Aslan’s emerald green eyes.
She feared the steady gaze watching her from beyond the iron bars.
Amidst the chaotic situation, only one thing was crystal clear.
She had been defeated, and Aslan had won.
If they fought again, especially in her current state without the power of the deity, she would surely lose again.
Observing the woman struggling to calm her harsh breaths, Aslan was confident that everything was unfolding as expected.
With his bandaged body, Aslan stepped forward with a limping gait. A glance signaled the nearby guard to open the iron bars.
“A…?”
Seeing Aslan enter the prison cell after opening the iron bars, Ereta’s pupils trembled.
“You…”
His fearless approach confused and frightened Ereta, especially given that it wasn’t an approach befitting a high priest.
Just as the thought crossed her mind that perhaps her loss of divine power had been discovered, Aslan spoke.
“How does it feel to be abandoned by your god?”
“How… how do you know?”
In response to her question of how he knew, Aslan said nothing. He saw no reason or value in answering, merely continuing to look down at her silently.
By remaining silent and observing quietly, Ereta’s expression slowly crumbled.
Like a dam breaking and water rushing out, she bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward.
“No, I… I haven’t been abandoned. This is surely Mother’s test…”
“Is that truly what you believe?”
“…”
Ereta’s expression was deeply marked with fear.
The kind of fear only someone who had lived their whole life as a high priest and a strong person could feel.
Mixed with her sense of loss, it vividly conveyed to Aslan the fact that he held life-and-death authority over her.
For her, there would be no more rebirth.
Likewise, there would be no more immense power.
Even as a master of blunt weapons, she had been defeated despite her superior physical abilities. The idea of overpowering a combat veteran with her female physique was unthinkable.
Understanding Ereta’s psychology, Aslan lowered himself on one knee.
Despite being in a position where Ereta could attack if she wished, she remained frozen, trembling with fear and only drawing breath.
‘Everything is going according to plan.’
The unknown technique used on Ereta. Though its origin was unclear, it had faithfully performed the intended effects.
Ereta’s current reaction couldn’t even be considered a deception.
The defeated woman, whose connection to her deity had been severed, was a master of blunt weapons but possessed only moderately trained physical capabilities and lacked any weapon in her hands.
Aslan was confident.
Ereta had been neutralized.
And Aslan had a desire regarding Ereta, who felt powerless.
“You’ve been abandoned. You lost to a mere human combat veteran, not a priest or a rider of ancient gods. The Spider Divinity of Fire wanted to dispose of you as a monster.”
“Such lies won’t work… on me.”
“Does it feel like a lie? I don’t think it’s unreasonable to retrieve the lingering divine power from your body. Look at your body. There isn’t a single wound, is there?”
At these words, Ereta ran her hands over her arms, stomach, and neck, realizing there wasn’t a single injury.
Aslan patiently waited until her slow movements ceased before speaking.
“You were dead. Dead and resurrected. The Spider Divinity of Fire sought to reclaim the divine power used in that process. It’s common for defeated priests.”
This calm statement was true. Aslan had experienced it multiple times from both the Game and Geladridion perspectives, while it was merely a rumor Ereta had heard about.
Nevertheless, it was quite convincing. Beneath her seemingly kind face, deep melancholy and despair were vividly exposed. Her expression resembled that of a child abandoned by their parents.
“Mother…”
The term used by the Spider Divinity of Fire and its priests. Mother.
Unlike other believers, she truly regarded the Spider Divinity of Fire as a maternal figure.
Thus, she tried to doubt Aslan’s words, searching for counterarguments by rolling her eyes.
Though such arguments might not exist.
Regardless of the evidence presented, she genuinely could no longer feel the divine power of the Spider Divinity of Fire.
Her powers as a high priest had been taken away. Now, she had no choice but to believe what Aslan was saying.
Indeed, she had been defeated.
Indeed, her powers had been taken away.
And indeed, the man before her was just a human.
Tears streamed down Ereta’s eyes, sticky with despair.
Aslan watched the tears flow and thought.
As they progressed through the main quest, enemies would become stronger. That was an undeniable fact.
And as the enemies grew stronger, Angie and Aslan would level up and grow stronger too. This was largely dependent on Aslan and Angie’s journey but was almost certain to happen.
Perhaps one day they could capture a high priest without significant losses in direct combat.
But not right now.
Right now, Aslan had faced death multiple times even while fighting the High Priest of the Universe’s Necessity, one of the weaker high priests.
He refused to rely on precarious gambles anymore. After all, he only had one life.
What Aslan needed was a companion.
A companion who would never become a priest and yet possessed combat skills sufficient to handle priests.
Choosing such a companion, the first group to consider would be the veterans.
Those who possessed techniques coveted by the Supreme Divinity.
From superhumans to ordinary humans, countless veterans generally reached the pinnacle of their craft.
Although it wasn’t impossible for them to become priests, finding them among famous mercenaries or mages would be safer and more effective.
In that sense, Ereta before him was the most suitable candidate.
Some manipulation, persuasion, and exposure to reality would be necessary, but…
‘There’s no better candidate than this girl.’
If those disconnected from their deities could reconnect, Ereta should already be a priest again by now.
Given that she wasn’t, it seemed even the Spider Divinity of Fire, her former master, couldn’t reach her.
The effect produced by the mysterious technique, which he initially doubted, turned out better than expected.
Thus, the possibility of her becoming a priest again could be ruled out.
Her combat capability as a veteran was assured, albeit requiring some adjustment period.
Most importantly, her death during battle wouldn’t be regrettable.
Having once been a priest and being clearly evil, she could be used without hesitation.
Aslan’s lies and schemes stemmed from this reasoning.
Gradually ceasing her tears, her pink eyes, clouded with suspicion and faint fear, stared at Aslan.
The suspicions in those eyes varied.
Why wasn’t she being tortured? Why hadn’t she been killed? Why was she imprisoned? How did he know all these things?
The final question was clear.
That suspicion turned into a voice. Under the dim light of the flickering torches, the woman’s eyes gleamed ominously.
“What do you want?”
Though still tinged with sobs and fear, Aslan found satisfaction in her voice.
The humbling of the once-arrogant Ereta pleased Aslan, who harbored animosity towards all priests and deities.
Trying not to reveal his disdain, Aslan spoke.
“I intend to take you as a prisoner.”
“Prisoner?”
Echoing the question, Ereta watched as Aslan smirked in response.
Thwack!
Aslan struck her stomach.
The fist, swung within range, accurately hit Ereta’s stomach before retracting.
It was skilled enough to inflict moderate pain without causing extreme agony or bodily destruction.
Unable to endure the pain, Ereta bent over, drooling thick saliva and gasping.
Aslan grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.
“Don’t ask questions.”
With tear-filled pink eyes, Ereta nodded at Aslan, but he released her hair unsatisfied and slapped her cheek.
With a “Slap!” sound, Ereta’s head sharply turned. Falling to the ground, she trembled, clutching her cheek.
“You must answer.”
“…Yes.”
Ereta’s subdued response, head bowed as if defeated.
It was an obedient sight hard to believe from someone who was recently a high priest.
Though she might be plotting betrayal, Aslan didn’t regret his decision.
This method was the best way to break Ereta.
The Saint of Slaughter, Ereta.
The sadistic-looking her was, in reality, an extreme masochist, even unbeknownst to herself.
Seeing Ereta’s expression slacken, Aslan sighed inwardly.
Whether it was a sigh of relief or self-loathing, even he couldn’t tell.
