“Leave nothing behind, eat it all.”
When the man spoke, the monsters that heard his words gathered around the corpse and plunged their hands into it. The hands they pulled out were stained red, clutching a handful of flesh and innards.
The soldiers turned into handfuls of meat each time the giant monsters plunged their hands in and scooped them out, gradually disappearing into the monsters’ mouths. As the monsters devoured, the corpses diminished accordingly.
While the monsters chewed with smacking sounds, the towering man stood with his hand on his waist watching the scene.
A faint sense of satisfaction flowed through his mind. He particularly liked the monsters he led, and his mood improved every time he fed them.
The monsters also seemed to like him and followed him well. Because of this, while they were enjoying their meal, they brought him something they had found.
Gruuuk
The one-eyed giant let out a low growl. In its hand was a letter. The man smiled as he took what the monster offered.
“Thank you. Go finish your meal.”
The monster bowed its head slightly before resuming its meal, and the priest of the giants unfolded the letter. He was just about to take a look inside.
Rustle
If only that sudden sound hadn’t come.
A woman appeared, pushing through the bushes.
She wore a black silk habit draped over her body, with a kindly appearance yet an underlying aura of gloom. Her rare white hair and pink eyes made her an impressive beauty.
Moreover, she was someone the man knew.
The Saintess of Slaughter, Ereta.
She was a kind of “compatriot” under the same church who worshipped a different deity.
The man looked at the woman with a sneering smile.
“…This isn’t a baby spider, is it?”
At the mention of “baby spider,” the nickname used within the church for her, Ereta flinched slightly.
It was almost like they were old acquaintances, though there might be no such memory in her.
“Will you help me?”
With that, the woman brought up the main topic. Given how unfamiliar she seemed, she probably wasn’t a high-ranking priestess, but that mattered little to her.
“Ho, is the baby spider asking me for help? And so politely too? What happened to that superior attitude you always carried?”
As the man sneered, the woman responded with an expression of unease beneath her gloomy demeanor.
“That’s not important, is it? It’s about helping a fellow compatriot and catching the ancient deity’s herald. Please help me bring it down. All I want is…”
“Nope.”
The woman’s hesitantly spoken plea was cut off by the priest of the giants. For a moment, the woman’s face twisted in apparent irritation.
But the woman had no choice. She was no longer the Saintess of Slaughter after all.
She couldn’t kill recklessly according to her usual nature. In fact, it would be fortunate if she weren’t killed herself.
And indeed, the priest seemed aware of this fact as he looked down at her with a sneering expression.
“Fellow compatriots, right? But aren’t you no longer one of us? Without the rank of a high priest, why should I help you?”
“…Capturing the herald of the ancient deity is the top priority…”
“Mm, it is a priority, sure. But there’s no reason for me to help you. Besides…”
The priest of the giants was wrapped in a large robe fitting for his massive build. When the hem of his robe swept the ground, it stirred up enough dirt to show how thick and heavy it was.
He approached the woman, kicking up a small cloud of dust, while she stepped back uneasily sensing some unknown ominousness.
The priest grinned lecherously.
“You seem to have misunderstood something. The fire-weaving spiders have already been cast out. They’re no longer part of the Three Evil Gods. Most of those ‘spiders’ like you have either perished or been eaten.”
Ereta’s confusion prompted the priest to gesture at her while speaking.
“All we received from the prophecy concerning you is this: Kill you and eat you to reclaim the divine power.”
Finally, the woman was horrified, recalling the words she’d overheard beyond the bushes moments ago.
“Talk to the giant priest first.”
“…What?”
“You can ask for help if you want. Even if he betrays you, it’s fine. Do whatever seems good.”
Aslan had said that, shoving her forward, and she acted on it, seeing it as an opportunity.
The result was failure.
`Could it be that he knew everything…`
The instant she realized it, the giant priest and the monsters approached her.
The monsters seemed to be debating among themselves where to start eating her.
“Don’t take it too personally. We weren’t really that close within the church, were we? If you were in my position, you’d probably do the same now, wouldn’t you?”
His upward curling lips revealed the 4-meter-tall giant priest’s face, showing his sinister intentions as he approached her.
“Let’s play with your face a bit first…”
Wham!
Just as the priest stretched out his tree-trunk-like arm, something flew out of the bushes and struck his head.
It was a two-handed axe, precisely embedded in his forehead.
The very axe Ereta had been using until recently.
The handle of the axe trembled delicately from the force of the throw, and the axe deeply pierced the priest’s forehead, causing his eyes to roll back as he collapsed.
Kuuuung
The heavy weight falling down startled the monsters, making them wail in confusion.
“…Don’t take it too personally. You ambushed those soldiers too, didn’t you?”
Amidst the monsters’ cries, a man emerged.
He wore a cloak and leather breastplate, covered by padded armor, and stared at the monsters with frosty green eyes. In each hand, he held a handaxe and a warhammer.
At first glance, his face looked weary and full of sorrow, but there was a certain presence about him.
The man’s name was Aslan.
He was a veteran of combat.
And the combat veteran was preparing for victory.
Seeing the monsters crouching and charging, the combat veteran Aslan swiped a corner of his vision with his hand.
[Angela Tail]
[Strength: 7] [Agility: 4] [Health: 7]
[Aslan]
[Mana: 6] [Luck: 5] [Will: 7]
Aslan first added 3 points to Angie’s health, then increased his own mana by 2 points and luck by 1 point.
[Mana: 560]
When Aslan’s mana reached 6, it was more than double the amount when it was at 4 (240), reaching 560. This was because mana surged at certain ability thresholds, giving Aslan more options and means.
Feeling the overflowing mana, Aslan stepped forward gripping the warhammer and handaxe in both hands and muttered.
“Angie.”
At Aslan’s call, the girl burst out from the bushes. She held a staff.
A simple weapon without blades suited Angie well.
Given her wild strength, she was too powerful to require precise blade alignment or technical movements; even if her skills developed further, her strength would likely surpass them.
That’s why it was the staff.
Like a two-handed sword or spear, it could deliver consistent damage wherever it struck, and it was inexpensive.
Even if it broke due to her immense strength, replacing it wouldn’t be difficult.
On the other hand, Aslan wielded Ereta’s temporarily seized weapons. The tools forged by gods or taken from master artisans were better than mere masterpieces.
The two crimson-glowing weapons flew toward the monsters.
Crack!
The first to fall was the one-eyed giant rushing forward. Not agile enough to dodge an attack aimed at his knee, the giant stumbled as the axe rebounded and shattered his knee.
Wham!
As the stumbling giant exposed his temple, Aslan swung his arm fiercely, smashing the warhammer into the monster’s skull, cracking it open.
Shattered fragments of the skull and brain matter scattered as Aslan rotated halfway, imbued with Wild Magic.
Enhanced strength and bone reinforcement, layered together, accelerated Aslan as he struck the arm of another charging giant.
Sssshh!
Precisely cutting with the axe and hammering it off, the two-hit combo cleanly severed the wrist, eliciting a scream from the wounded giant.
“Hryaah!”
Kuaaaang!
The wrist-clutching giant rose, only to meet Angie charging in. With the staff gripped in both hands, Angie spun her entire body weight and strength into a devastating blow that split the giant’s skull like fruit, the staff piercing through from jaw to eye.
Wham!
“…
However, having swung hard left her unable to defend or evade. A second giant, seeking vengeance for its comrade, slapped her with its palm.
Thrown far back, Angie rolled across the ground, spat out blood-tinged saliva, and got up.
“Ahh, damn.”
Had it been an ordinary human, that blow would’ve reduced them to pieces, but Angie was barely affected, with only her teeth loosened. With her health at 7, Angie clearly surpassed human durability.
After shaking herself off, Angie charged again, while Aslan stripped the giant-type monsters of their mobility to make them easier targets for her.
Kicking the charging giant’s wrist, leaping up, slashing its eye with the axe,
Grakk!
Stepping on the monster’s shoulder to jump, stomping down with the ball of his foot, simultaneously striking the giant’s foothold with both weapons to knock it over. Each incapacitated, blinded, and destabilized monster met Angie’s crushing strikes.
Ereta watched the battle unfold, dumbfounded as the monsters’ heads exploded like bursting fruits.
“Angie!”
There were nine giant-type monsters in total.
Cutting the wrist, smashing the knee with the hammer, and breaking the ankle with the axe of the eighth monster, Aslan turned around and called out. Angie thrust her staff deep into the one-eyed giant’s eye socket.
Grrrr…
The monster gurgled blood and died. The last remaining monster, terrified, uprooted a tree.
Indifferent to the fate of its companions or master, it instinctively grabbed the tree.
The uprooted tree tossed soil and pebbles into the air as it was raised and swung.
Grakk!
Whoosh!
Seeing the incoming tree, Aslan adjusted his grip on the weapons in both hands to throw them.
`Knight Slayer.`
The handaxe darkened as Aslan threw it.
`Summon Thunder.`
Half a beat later, the warhammer glowing faintly left Aslan’s hand.
The axe arrived first, passing through the tree and flying toward the giant, embedding itself in its eye.
Graaaaah!
Blinded and panicked, the giant flailed.
Ka-rummm!
Thunder roared, repelling the tree. The deflected tree continued along its trajectory and flew.
Kazzzjik!
Smashing the monster’s skull.
The giant’s body, pinned by the tree, collided with another tree and toppled over like dominoes.
Rolling logs hit other trees, echoing through the forest with a chirring sound.
Finally, when the sounds ceased, the forest was silent.
Only a pile of soldiers’, giant-monster, and giant-priest corpses lay scattered desolately on the ground.
In the center, Aslan caught his breath, checking his status.
More than half his mana remained—310—and he had only expended 2 points of willpower. Handling the priest and quite skilled monsters with just that much effort marked significant progress.
`Clearly, increasing mana expands options.`
For instance, physical enhancements for defense or evasion proved useful, and overall, there was no unnecessary expenditure of energy. Able to fight more efficiently, Aslan tired less and conserved stamina.
Satisfied with the results, Aslan retrieved the thrown weapons. Clutching the two single weapons in his left hand, he freed his right to retrieve the two-handed axe from the priest’s crushed head.
“Aslan, what about this one?”
Turning with the two-handed axe slung over his shoulder, Angie pointed her blood-soaked staff at Ereta.
“Should we kill the traitor?”
Though casually asked, the content was chilling. Shaking his head, Aslan approached Ereta, with Angie naturally stepping aside.
Ereta sat motionless as Aslan approached.
Stopping in front of her, Aslan leaned on the two-handed axe.
“…Do you still not believe you’ve been abandoned?”
Ereta did not respond, her expression vacant. Aslan looked down at her with pity.
“Is it hard to accept being taken away for the first time after a lifetime of being robbed?”
Mockingly, Aslan continued.
“To be a tool of the gods is like this. To gods, human emotions mean nothing. Before gods, all lives are equally worthless.”
Ereta’s mechanical expression seemed to ignore him, but Aslan went on.
“Priests think they’re special, but that’s merely a delusion based on human perspective. That’s what gods are like.”
And in his voice, a trace of hatred could be detected—a spine-chilling hatred. Ereta’s mouth twitched.
“Why…why are you telling me this? Why don’t you just kill me and tell me these things?”
Aslan, leaning on the axe, bent down to meet Ereta’s gaze. Cold fury flashed in his emerald eyes.
“Why do you think?”
The hatred in his eyes, expression, and tone.
Ereta suddenly remembered the moment she had died.
The moment when her neck was cleanly chopped off by the axe Aslan held.
Her hand unconsciously moved to her throat, finding it damp with cold sweat.
Ereta trembled in fear.
Trembling, she repeatedly recalled that moment.
And each time she remembered, she felt a tightening sensation in her lower abdomen.
It was strange.
Until now, whenever she killed people or heard their agonizing screams, Ereta had experienced deep satisfaction and excitement. She believed it was her nature.
Yet now, she was experiencing incomparably deeper excitement.
As if everything she had felt before was fake, as if it wasn’t truly her nature.
The source of this excitement was clear.
The memory of Aslan killing her.
And the cold, hateful gaze and voice Aslan directed at her now.
Her lower abdomen grew warm as conflicting emotions caused her to break out in a cold sweat.
Perplexity mingled with a blush spreading across her face.
Aslan observed Ereta’s blushing face and growled lowly.
“You’re no longer a priest. You’re Ereta. Ereta, the Master of Blunt Weapons.”
It was true. Though no longer a priest, she was still a master.
“The inevitability of the universe will seek to devour you. And all priests and gods will see you as no different from any other human prey.”
It was also true. If anything, it was merciful.
“You who once stood so high, are now here.”
Aslan’s raised finger slowly pointed to the ground where Ereta sat. His next words sounded diluted of hatred, weak and weary.
“You’re with creatures like us now. Like all other equally worthless lives.”
Ereta looked up at the changed tone. Meeting Aslan’s eyes, she saw no trace of hatred in his emerald irises.
The man with emerald eyes spoke.
“Follow me.”
Without thinking, Ereta opened her mouth.
“…What if I don’t?”
To which Aslan glanced down indifferently.
“You’ll die.”
Did he mean he would kill her? Thinking so, Aslan corrected himself.
“Of course, following me doesn’t guarantee survival. If the fight goes wrong or you make a mistake, you could die. But…”
Aslan bent closer, bringing his face nearer. Ereta felt heat rising to her cheeks as she swallowed.
“If you don’t follow, you will definitely die. Someone who hates you, a priest, a god, or a Wild Wizard seeking power—all will kill you.”
Standing upright again, a faint smell of sweat wafted from the man. Ereta fidgeted with her hands at the scent.
“What I offer isn’t false hope. It’s the bloody path you must struggle and persevere through.”
Which will you choose? With those brief words, Aslan dropped the two short swords he had been holding in one hand in front of Ereta. The metallic clink jolted her senses.
“Certain death versus a possible chance of survival. The choice is yours. Once you decide… pick up the weapon.”
Ereta looked down at Aslan and then at the two short swords lying on the ground, conflicted.
These two swords were the ones she had used since she was a priest.
They always burned with divine light, scattering flames.
But now, despite her desperate attempts to ignite them, not a single flame arose. Only her reflection showed in the blood-soaked axe blade.
`…I really… have been abandoned.`
Only then did Ereta understand her situation.
She was an abandoned priest.
Her survival was pure fortune. All priests were supposed to die the moment their power was withdrawn.
She closed her eyes and swallowed her regret.
Regret had no meaning.
She gently grasped the two short swords. They were heavier than when she wielded them as a priest. She couldn’t swing them lightly anymore.
Placing the two weapons on her knees, Ereta looked up.
Aslan quietly looked down at her, devoid of malice in his eyes. Clear and bright like a cloudless sky.
The Aslan Ereta knew killed priests and monsters without hesitation, sparing no mercy for humans who opposed him.
The Aslan who had killed Ereta.
She had to ask.
“Why haven’t you killed me?”
In response to her question, Aslan answered without hesitation.
“Because you’re human now.”
At his decisive words, the woman lowered her head. Silence filled the air as the forest whispered faintly. In that whisper, the woman replied.
“I’ll follow you. Teach me the path I must fight through.”
Aslan didn’t reply, but the woman felt she had received an answer.
