Aslan had suspected that Ereta was a masochist, and his suspicion turned out to be correct.
Information that’s typically unknowable. Even something like an individual’s sexual preference would be impossible to know, even if you were to ask directly.
However, the reason Aslan knew that Ereta was a masochist was purely due to the game.
More precisely, it was thanks to the dummy data within the game.
Dummy data refers to information that remains in the system but isn’t actually used in the game itself.
In this context, Aslan was aware of leftover dummy data about recruiting Ereta, the Virgin Saint of Slaughter, despite her abilities not being functional in the actual game.
The interactions with Ereta contained within that data, along with dialogues, lines, and the characteristic of masochism attached to her profile—all this information allowed Aslan to deduce that Ereta was indeed a masochist.
‘Could it really be that the dummy data was accurate…?’
Of course, one couldn’t rely on it as definitive information. Dummy data is, after all, unused data. Perhaps the information could have been wrong.
The sole reason Aslan included masochism as part of his strategy for approaching Ereta was because he judged that, even if the approach failed, there wouldn’t be any severe repercussions given who Ereta was.
In the end, things went smoothly, so there were no issues. Having cleared his thoughts on Ereta, Aslan called Harold and Angie over.
Harold, much like Aslan, bore clear signs of injury, while Angie appeared unscathed, without a single bandage.
Seeing both their gazes fixed on him, Aslan spoke.
“I intend to recruit Ereta as an ally. Officially, she’ll be a prisoner for now.”
Lying in bed covered in wounds, Harold let out a groan.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Harold exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly uneasy, but Angie simply nodded without much expression.
The girl, staring at the fruit in her hand, said lightly,
“I’m in favor.”
“Huh…?”
Harold seemed surprised by Angie’s reaction, but she shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“I’m neither a veteran like her nor a warrior like you, so I don’t really know much… but our strength was pretty similar. Still, I got beaten down and knocked out.”
A faint trace of frustration flickered across the girl’s face. The fruit gripped tightly in her small hands cracked slightly with a soft sound, expressing her suppressed emotion.
“You still have skills, right, even without your power? You’d still be helpful then.”
“Aren’t you annoyed?”
Aslan felt both pleased and strange at the girl’s calm acceptance; he hadn’t thought she was the type for such behavior.
When he asked her about it, the girl looked down.
“Of course I’m annoyed. But still… fighting made me realize that my strength alone isn’t enough. I followed your signal and fought according to your plan, but in the end, I lost and passed out.”
The girl stared at the cracked fruit for a moment before popping a piece into her mouth.
“We’re going to meet more strong enemies like that in the future, right?”
Aslan silently agreed, and Angie gave a bitter smile.
“So we should bring her along. I may be stupid and lack eloquence, but I believe you can find a way to make use of her, right?”
“…That’s correct.”
“If so, I trust you. I’ve decided not to worry about what I can’t do myself. Thinking strategically is your role.”
Aslan fell silent.
Handing over judgment entirely meant handing over life and death as well—truly complete trust. Sensing this, Harold spoke up.
“Aren’t you suspicious?”
“Of course I am. But she agrees, doesn’t she?”
“I trust my comrades.” Angie added casually and finished eating the rest of the fruit.
Both Aslan and Harold looked at Angie with surprise, and she smiled at their gaze.
“What do you think?”
She asked Harold, who responded by exhaling again while lying in bed.
“I don’t see traveling with such a person as beneficial, even if she’s technically a prisoner. Isn’t she a veteran, after all? However… arguing against Aslan’s carefully considered decision seems meaningless. Besides, my opinion isn’t important anyway.”
Angie tilted her head at his last remark, prompting Harold to close his eyes.
“That’s my final word.”
“Eh, what?”
Confused, Angie blinked, and Harold opened his eyes to meet hers.
“Angela.”
Harold had always referred to Angie as Angela Tail, reinforcing her identity as a Tail from Belus Alphen by consistently using her surname.
But now, Harold only called her by her first name.
Even Angie noticed the difference and was puzzled.
“I saw where you and Aslan fought that woman.”
Harold Crow witnessed it—a battlefield so devastating it hardly looked like it had been fought by humans. It was littered with blood, broken weapons, shattered trees, and fragmented pieces of earth scattered everywhere.
Unlike Harold, who had lost several fingers fighting mere monsters and their followers, Angie and Aslan emerged victorious without losing any limbs, though they were injured.
Having lived his entire life as a warrior, Harold Crow could gauge the skill level of others and estimate the gap between them.
“Angela, you’re stronger than me now.”
At those words, Angie wore a serious expression, and Harold closed his eyes again.
“You mentioned feeling insufficient during your fight with Aslan. That state of insufficiency makes you far stronger than me.”
“You…!”
“Even if I tried to follow, I wouldn’t be much help. I doubt I’d be useful as just meat shield either. And chasing battles with no chance of winning isn’t enjoyable for me.”
Upon hearing that Harold wouldn’t accompany them, Angie frowned, but Aslan remained quiet, as if he’d already known.
“Then where will you go?”
“I might take up mercenary work in the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom. Maybe someday… I’ll return to Belus Alphen.”
“Aslan has approved…?”
“He already did. When I escaped, Lord Aslan granted me my freedom. I’ve followed him using that freedom, and now it’s simply time for me to leave.”
Though they hadn’t spent a long time together, Angie seemed reluctant to see this person go, judging by her expression.
But she didn’t try to stop him.
“Alright… you’ll do fine. You’re pretty strong after all.”
Harold chuckled softly and nodded. As the silence stretched between them, Harold eventually spoke again.
“It’s none of my business, but… I’m curious. Why does my lord plan to accept Ereta?”
Aslan pretended to deliberate deeply upon hearing the question. Though he already had an answer, responding without thought would make it seem like a casual decision.
After feigning contemplation, Aslan replied solemnly.
“Do you know my goal?”
“…Hmm, I don’t.”
“To piss off the gods?”
Different answers came from Harold and Angie, but Aslan shook his head.
Looking at those waiting for his response, Aslan thought back.
Geladridion was a terrible place.
It went on endlessly, pointlessly.
The gods arrogantly stole and humiliated lives without value.
Their apostles, bearing the divine glory of their deities, killed people in the name of their gods.
Aslan didn’t like what he saw.
There was no such thing as a life without value.
Even the weakest life deserved the right to live.
This was what Aslan had learned and lived by.
He didn’t want to simply overlook these injustices as differences in worlds.
Changing such a world alone was beyond Aslan’s capabilities.
Fighting even a high-ranking priest was tough for Aslan, even with thorough preparation.
Alone, he couldn’t defeat an entire human army.
The only method for change lay in the game’s ending.
The Eternal Dominion game had two endings, or three if branching paths were considered.
Closing the world and pushing away the gods, leaving the world still tainted—an act of indifference.
Becoming a benevolent deity and suffering eternally as fodder for the evil god—a sacrifice.
Becoming an evil god oneself, merely adding another cursed deity—a greed.
None of these endings aligned with Aslan’s vision of a happy ending.
And after 12 years of experience, escaping the game proved difficult. Ending it would be even harder.
To achieve his desired happy ending, Aslan believed he needed power.
What he planned to do with that power was obvious.
“Killing all the gods. That’s my goal.”
Hearing this absurd statement, Harold opened his eyes, and Angie let out an “Eh?” It was understandable to be startled. After all, gods weren’t supposed to be killable.
But Aslan was confident in his plan.
“The first step is gathering allies.”
“Surely not…”
“You’re thinking correctly. I plan to gather veterans.”
While becoming priests might be uncertain, they were guaranteed combatants.
Even if some hadn’t surpassed human limits, it didn’t matter.
Aslan had fought priests for 12 years without surpassing human limits himself.
Master of Blunt Weapons, Ereta.
She would become the first veteran Aslan accepted as an ally.
Seeming to understand, Harold let out a “Huh…” and buried his head in his bed, his wide-open eyes filled with shock.
“The scale is too vast for my mind to grasp… Gathering veterans to kill gods? My lord, is it alright for me to hear such talk?”
Though Harold sounded astonished, Aslan reacted indifferently.
“Even if you tell anyone else, they won’t take it seriously. Not even the priests would.”
“True… I thought for a moment that my lord had gone mad.”
It didn’t seem possible that gathering veterans could enable one to fight gods. But Harold knew Aslan wasn’t one to speak idly or devise impractical plans, so he refrained from arguing.
Instead, he stroked his long chin thoughtfully. After pondering for a while, Harold finally asked amidst his confusion.
“So, where’s the next destination? Veterans often have unclear whereabouts…”
“My next plan is to recruit the Veteran of Swords as an ally.”
The Veteran of Swords.
Among veterans, the most renowned figure after masters of combat.
Harold, recalling the name and nickname, stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment before muttering, “Hmm?”
“Wait, if it’s the Veteran of Swords…”
“Yes, the next destination is the Vida Kingdom.”
*
“…The Vida Kingdom, filled with sanctuaries of the Inevitability Sect of the Universe? Are you insane?”
Leaving Harold’s sickroom and entering the study, the Marquis sitting in front of Aslan exclaimed in astonishment, but Aslan merely gave an awkward smile.
