Aslan felt boiling anger.
His fists clenched, his teeth ground together, and he unconsciously gripped his sword to the extent that it showed just how furious he was.
Yet, Aslan did not step forward.
He sat still.
Lumel, seeing Aslan’s restraint, also remained seated despite feeling uneasy, and thus the two of them sat on one side of the arena, overlooking it.
In the blood-soaked sands of the arena, the battle continued to rage on.
Aslan watched the bloodbath with an unpleasant expression.
The very act of restraint was painful.
Though what had happened earlier wasn’t entirely unforgivable, it surpassed even that level.
As Aslan recalled, Lumel’s voice echoed in his memory.
“Why are you doing such a thing?”
It wasn’t a preemptive response to Aslan’s thoughts but rather a genuine question from Lumel.
To him, the arena itself was incomprehensible.
To gain power from the evil deity and become a priest, was it necessary?
If so, they could simply fight each other or battle monsters.
There was no need to target humans.
Omul laughed as if amused by such doubts.
“Are you really that clueless? Haven’t I already said this? This is art. Art created through life and death. So….”
“That’s not what I’m asking. There’s no way you’d do something like this for such a trivial reason.”
The woman, her voice filled with irritation, asked while her displeased expression drew Omul’s attention. She explained further.
“There’s absolutely no reason for people to fight monsters. You all should either fight among yourselves or prove your strength by handling the monsters.”
“It wouldn’t be enough to show that.”
At Lumel’s raised eyebrow, Omul replied simply.
“We can easily kill warriors who triumph over monsters. Showing that is more effective. Besides… this time, the human fighter lost spirit, but normally, there’s some skill involved.”
Omul’s tone carried a hint of regret. Seeing Lumel’s look of disgust, Omul added,
“Besides, killing monsters isn’t particularly entertaining to watch.”
Though it wasn’t worth responding to, it was certainly enough to anger both Aslan and Lumel.
Presently, Aslan, looking down at the arena, understood everything.
Forcing kidnapped people to fight against monsters wasn’t solely to display power to the evil deities but also stemmed from Omul’s personal interest.
This phantom, Omul, was the creator of the arena.
Given that he had built one in his own city, his obsession and affection for arenas must have been considerable.
He undoubtedly enjoyed watching fights.
He likely preferred observing from a safe distance, detached from the pain and anxiety.
Even without an arena, he had chosen its form for the ‘trial stage’ for reasons like these.
Realizing this, Omul happily overlooked the arena.
At the center of the arena stood a knight.
Clad in armor similar to the one worn by the warrior executed earlier by the specter after giving up, the knight fought valiantly.
With sword and shield in hand, the knight had already defeated numerous monsters.
Despite this, the outcome was clear, causing Aslan to feel uncomfortable.
Aslan understood the warrior who had given up and accepted execution earlier.
Survival was impossible once someone stepped into this arena.
Heroes of a bygone era, villains, and specters gathered here.
Ordinary humans couldn’t possibly defeat them.
Only death awaited.
Even if they managed to defeat the monsters, they couldn’t overcome the specters, making them mere dummies and targets for showcasing skills.
The arena was nothing but pure discomfort incarnate. Watching it, Aslan repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists.
The knight continued fighting within the arena.
But the knight wouldn’t last long.
Humans had their limits, and even if this knight appeared to be a venerable knight from the Pervere Kingdom, no matter how skilled, they couldn’t handle waves of monsters followed by heroes.
The reason Aslan didn’t intervene was simple.
First, the odds weren’t favorable.
Aslan and Lumel alone couldn’t face all the specters.
Moreover, acting wouldn’t bring any benefit—only losses.
They had to endure for their purpose.
Recalling all these facts allowed Aslan to restrain himself.
Clenching his teeth, Aslan looked down at the arena.
The knight swung the sword and shield.
“Huff!”
With a yell, the knight deflected a monster’s claw with the silver-plated shield and struck back with the sword.
Using near-perfect swordsmanship, the knight pressed the monster relentlessly, eventually wounding it repeatedly until it fell.
The knight was surprisingly strong.
Though not on par with the specters, the knight was formidable in their own right.
The reason the knight maintained consecutive victories against the many powerful monsters was singular.
Even the specters observed the knight with interest. After defeating the Wendigo, a twisted monster and follower of the gods of war and knowledge, the knight panted heavily.
Having felled even this divine creature, the knight was known for gathering and protecting people after the fall of the Pervere Kingdom.
Though the kingdom perished under the Veil of Mercy, this knight had fought for their country and its people.
The currently captured individuals were survivors under the knight’s protection, and the warrior killed earlier by the specter was the knight’s comrade.
Thus, the knight realized:
If they died, next would come the innocent and weak.
People incapable of defeating monsters, people who would surely die.
Even if they survived by luck, stronger beings would eventually claim their lives.
So, the knight fought desperately, killing as many monsters as possible.
From what the knight had observed, they only descended when it seemed the fighters were too exhausted to continue battling the monsters.
If the knight kept holding out and eliminating the monsters, eventually they would all be gone.
This was the only way the knight could protect others.
Even if it meant dying in the end, the knight fought to save as many lives as possible.
At least, the knight believed this, and it wasn’t far from the truth.
Had Omul not sent a specter due to the knight’s exceptional performance, things might have gone according to the knight’s plan.
When the specter, pushed by Omul, landed, the knight grimaced.
This specter clearly appeared to be a mighty warrior.
The halberd-like weapon in their hands was unique.
Its blade resembled a large axe with a crossguard, unmistakably designed not for humans.
The heavy and thick armor they wore seemed capable of deflecting significant impacts.
Even the material of the armor was made of dragon scales.
This was an ancient empire’s dragon slayer, and though the knight didn’t know it, they recognized their inferiority.
Still, the knight picked up the sword and shield.
The knight muttered softly.
May I be able to protect.
The ensuing battle was desperate and brutal.
The biggest problem was the disparity in skill.
While the knight was highly skilled compared to most contemporary fighters, they weren’t enough to defeat an age-defining hero.
Of course, equipment played a role too.
The knight’s ordinary iron sword couldn’t pierce the dragon-scale armor.
The knight’s shield couldn’t withstand the dragon slayer’s halberd.
It shattered upon impact, and the knight’s armor crumbled like paper every time the halberd grazed it.
Soon, the knight lost an arm.
“Aaaaagh… ugh…”
Despite the severed arm flying off, the knight gritted their teeth against the pain and clutched the sword.
The result was obvious.
The knight would die, unable to achieve anything.
Still, the knight gripped the sword again.
Attacking once more, but it wouldn’t pose any threat.
The dragon slayer responded with evident annoyance.
The knight’s attack was sloppy, lacking balance due to the missing arm, and there was no way to defend.
Before long, the halberd’s blade crushed the knight’s shoulder.
“Grrr…”
The sword-wielding arm was severed, the sword clattering to the ground.
The knight stumbled backward.
Victory was decided. Without arms, there was no chance against a hero. Yet, the knight didn’t collapse.
Grunting in pain, the knight desperately reached for the fallen arm, pulling the sword free and biting down on the hilt.
Breathing heavily, the knight exhaled sharply through the sword’s grip.
Despite the differences in skill, ability, and equipment, the knight still wanted to fight.
Watching this, Aslan clenched his fists.
He couldn’t bear it anymore.
No, “I don’t want to bear it anymore.”
Thinking this, Aslan whispered to Lumel, who sat beside him uncomfortably.
“Lumel.”
“…Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
Before Lumel could respond, Aslan leapt, descending into the arena wrapped in the wind of the underworld.
Kuung!
Rising clouds of sand. The dragon slayer, about to finish off the knight, turned with an annoyed expression, only to find Aslan standing there.
Recognizing the opponent as void and chaos, the dragon slayer hesitated for a moment before speaking.
“What business do you have interfering, Void and Chaos? Even you shouldn’t—”
Ignoring whatever else the dragon slayer had to say, Aslan thought.
This was definitely not the best choice.
Rather, it bordered on the worst.
Maybe he wouldn’t get the information he needed.
Maybe he’d get into trouble.
Depending on the situation, he might face even more terrible consequences.
Despite all these disadvantages, Aslan reached behind his back.
Grurrurrr…
The coiled sword handle. When pulled, the serrated edges screamed.
The chilling sound made the dragon slayer flinch. Then Aslan drew the short sword, Abyss Blade, from his waist with a reverse grip.
Holding the greatsword and the short sword, feeling their weight and coldness, Aslan thought again.
Considering all the disadvantages, the best option for Aslan was to stay out of it.
By pretending to be void and chaos well, he could avoid the tragedy unfolding here.
Aslan could obtain information and escape safely.
Taking advantage of their complacency, he might even assassinate Omul or eliminate the priests.
That would be much smoother and the best course of action.
Aslan simply didn’t want to.
Aslan thought he wasn’t very wise.
He considered himself selfish and dull.
Thus, for immediate satisfaction, he could give up future gains.
Now, having regained sensation in his new body, it was incredibly easy.
Aslan’s heart surged past reason and moved forward.
Boiling emotions. Aslan felt them while thinking.
A failed hero.
A resurrected villain.
An ancient evil deity re-emerging into the world.
Such entities strutting around, killing people, reveling in joy, becoming the world’s new oppressors.
Aslan didn’t want to see that.
Nor did he wish to stand by while innocents fought so brutally.
Thus, Aslan ignored the dragon slayer’s chatter and didn’t respond.
Because they weren’t human.
Humans couldn’t converse with monsters.
To Aslan, this was monster hunting.
“Purity.”
The word uttered unheard caused the greatsword to transform immediately.
A blazing white greatsword revealed itself, radiating divine power that startled the specter, who quickly reacted.
Stepping forward, the halberd lunged.
It was an attack beyond mastery, elite-level.
Every aspect of defense, evasion, and counterattack was guarded against.
If blocked, the halberd would ensnare and stab the neck.
If dodged, the shaft would smash the head.
If countered, a swift footstep would crush the skull.
It was a perfect response.
If Aslan hadn’t been the opponent.
“Shadow Reversal.”
As Aslan’s lips moved, the shadow beneath disappeared.
By the time the specter noticed,
Chaaak!
With a single strike, the torso and head split apart, rolling onto the ground.
Aslan stood in the position where Shadow Reversal had been used, as if he had just swung his sword.
The specters, baffled by the invisible double strike, stared down in shock, while Aslan approached the panting knight, receiving their wary gaze on his back.
The knight, gripping the sword with their mouth, eyed Aslan cautiously.
Upon seeing this, Aslan turned his back to the knight.
The knight looked puzzled, and the specters, unsure of Aslan’s intentions, stared blankly.
In the sticky silence that flowed, Aslan thought.
Aslan decided to be happy.
Aslan’s happiness wasn’t about ignoring injustice to secure victory.
Aslan’s happiness lay beyond greed.
Aslan wanted to live as he pleased, humbling injustice with greed.
Achieving all his goals at the end.
That was Aslan’s happiness.
Thinking he was greedy, Aslan lowered Purity and Abyss Blade.
The sight was undoubtedly one of protecting the knight who had lost both arms.
Seeing this, Omul, who had previously viewed Aslan as a meddler, furrowed his brow.
“What are you doing, Void and Chaos?”
“You’re wrong.”
“What?”
Responding to the villain-turned-deity’s words, Aslan replied with a disinterested expression.
When naturally questioned by Omul, Aslan glared and said,
“I am not Void and Chaos.”
Aslan extended Purity toward Omul.
“I am not a fake hero like you.”
Then he transformed Abyss Blade into a thicker-bladed curved sword.
“Much less a deity.”
Aslan stomped on the blood-soaked sands of the arena.
“I am human.”
And concluded his statement.
“I am Aslan, a human.”
