Though it was merely an hour, many things had changed by the time Lumel woke up.
The first thing that caught his attention was the numerous people lying neatly beside him.
None of them were familiar, but Lumel could tell from their appearance that they were ordinary people who had gotten dragged into this affair.
They were likely being used like slaves inside and outside the banquet hall.
Most of them were wrapped in bandages, groaning in pain or unconscious with their eyes closed.
Was it alright to leave patients lying on the ground like this? As Lumel pondered this briefly, he noticed the traveling party coming into view next.
Some members of the group were sitting near Lumel, tending a campfire.
Among them, Tiamat was the most noticeable figure.
He was chewing on a massive lump of dried grain that wouldn’t fit in one hand.
Next to him, Angie was drying her bare feet by the fire.
Behind her, Phey was leaning against Angie, polishing a sword.
Already red, the blade looked even redder, stained with blood.
With so many rags laid beneath, Lumel could guess the situation just by looking at it.
There was no other way for him to know since his memory was hazy.
As he pressed his head, trying to recall while getting up, vague images of a fight flickered in his mind.
Lumel. He fought Omul.
It seemed like he won, though he couldn’t be sure due to the chaotic battle fueled by adrenaline.
Somehow… he obtained a powerful technique.
Judging by how he ended up lying here now, it must have happened.
After finally standing up, Lumel realized the bustling atmosphere around him.
Just as they had decided to wait with the imperial army near the border, the group was currently with the imperial forces.
True to Lumel’s initial impression, the soldiers moved busily about.
They cleared debris, confirmed the bodies of dead priests, and loaded them onto carts.
Guarding the surroundings instead of the group was also their responsibility.
“Where is Aslan?”
Since Aslan wasn’t visible among the soldiers or the rest of the group, Lumel glanced around. At that moment, someone tapped his shoulder lightly.
Startled, he turned back to hear a soft laugh—one that suited the description of “feminine” perfectly. There stood Ereta.
“Did you have a nightmare?”
She tilted her head slightly with a light question.
Lumel opened his mouth, then hid his embarrassment with a smile, causing Ereta to blink curiously.
“N-no, just… I passed out during a fight…”
“So?” She naturally followed up, placing her hand on Lumel’s forehead.
As she did so, a sensation akin to vitality flowed through his body.
Ereta paused for a moment, infusing more vitality into Lumel before withdrawing her hand with a gentle smile.
“There, all better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Truthfully, Lumel found Ereta somewhat uncomfortable.
Not only because of a past misunderstanding where she had growled at him, but dealing with such a cheerful woman felt awkward to him.
He preferred someone like Phey, whose insides were dark, or Lewena, who wasn’t really human, or Angie, who was rough around the edges.
Ereta, however, despite being born differently, carried herself like an ordinary cheerful woman.
Perhaps that’s why she was called the “Butcher Saint,” he thought, though she treated him the same as always, unaware of his thoughts.
“Looking for Aslan?”
As Lumel tried to get up, Ereta helped him and asked.
Caught off guard, Lumel closed his mouth. Ereta glanced around, her eyes landing on the rest of the group.
First, Richard stood nearby, wearing a visibly bitter expression.
Next to him sat Lewena, and beside her knelt Aslan, speaking with someone Lumel recognized.
A knight who had lost both arms lay on the ground.
Despite his blood-soaked armor, he wore a peaceful expression.
He was the cause of Aslan’s determination to rush into danger, and the very person Aslan had worked tirelessly to save.
Now, it was clear to everyone that the knight was dying.
His calm demeanor wasn’t due to recovery but likely thanks to an illusion spell cast by Lewena to ease his pain.
In other words, his condition was so dire that there was nothing else that could be done.
Aslan’s face was grim, forcing a casual look to hide his sorrow for the soon-to-be-departed knight.
“Wouldn’t want to intrude, would we?”
Hearing Ereta’s words as he frowned, Lumel nodded reflexively. Ereta gently guided him back to sit down.
“So, stay here and rest. Aslan will come soon.”
With a scolding tone, Ereta spoke, and Lumel, feeling uneasy yet grateful, bowed his head. Ereta smiled and walked away.
Left alone in silence, Lumel quietly observed Aslan.
Aslan was conversing with the knight who had lost both arms.
Occasionally forcing a smile, Aslan continued talking.
The knight, seemingly too weak to notice the forced smiles, grew paler and breathed weaker.
Though not close enough to hear, Lumel could easily guess what was happening.
Richard said something, and Aslan shook his head in response.
They silently watched the knight take his last breaths, and after saying something, the knight winced.
Tears streamed down his face, and Aslan, looking distressed, rummaged through the knight’s coat to retrieve something.
It was a banner.
An octagonal banner with a unique emblem.
Upon receiving it, the knight, who had been crying, closed his eyes peacefully, smiling faintly as he did so.
Clutching the insignia tightly, Aslan lowered his head with a pained expression.
Seeing this, Lumel’s face also twisted in anguish.
Despite achieving much, the look of longing for something unattainable was evident.
Empathizing with that desperate expression while marveling at Aslan’s unwavering persistence, Lumel gazed at him.
Naturally, when Lumel turned his head, their eyes met.
Aslan immediately stood and approached.
Surprised by the sudden movement, Lumel flinched, and the spear and short spear beside him rolled away.
“Ah.”
Unconsciously reaching out for the rolling spear, Lumel watched as it returned swiftly to his hand as if responding to his gesture.
“Huh?”
Lumel’s puzzled voice and Aslan’s pause indicated neither realized the spear had acknowledged Lumel as its master.
Neither understood the phenomenon itself.
Since such occurrences hadn’t happened in the games Aslan had experienced or in the adventure novels and legends Lumel had read, they naturally chose to ignore it.
The spear remained motionless as Aslan stared at it briefly before continuing forward.
“Are you alright?”
Ignoring the spear completely, Aslan asked.
“I’m fine. Actually… it feels unreal though.”
Forcing a smile, Lumel recalled the spear technique Aslan remembered.
The technique that enveloped in lightning, erased Omul’s entire body, and left a hole in the sky.
That was undoubtedly a special ability.
And if it was a special ability, it made sense for it to feel unreal.
Especially for Lumel, who directly experienced and executed it, compared to Aslan, who only vaguely grasped the principles.
“I felt the same way the first time I used a ‘skill.'”
At Aslan’s words, Lumel exclaimed softly.
Only then did it dawn on him that he had used a skill akin to Aslan’s.
Realizing this, the woman felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement.
‘Could it be… I fought and defeated the legendary villain and deity, Omul?’
Moreover,
‘Did I use the divine technique that war and knowledge alone could create throughout history?’
No, it wasn’t just using it—she had created such a technique.
For a woman who had only faced her past moments ago, it was astonishing.
Just a few years earlier, she was a lady reading adventure novels in the castle and daydreaming about adventures.
Of course, despite her self-assessment of extraordinary beauty and talent, there was always a gap between imagination and reality.
“You’ve worked hard.”
As Aslan spoke to Lumel, who was lost in thought with a proud smile, Lumel snapped back to reality.
Aslan was already seated in front of Lumel.
“Before asking for explanations or telling me anything, if there’s anything lacking right now, can you let me know?”
Saying something unexpected and difficult to understand, Aslan prompted.
Lumel immediately recalled a certain night’s private meeting.
The sweet kiss, the intense movements of sweat mingling.
That towering object penetrating deeply, painfully yet kindly spreading pleasure.
Blushing, Lumel watched Aslan hastily add:
“Ah, maybe my explanation was lacking. Like, if your strength could be stronger, or if your dexterity and reaction time could improve, that sort of thing.”
Embarrassed by Aslan’s sheepish laughter and clarification, Lumel slumped his shoulders in disappointment.
Beyond that, in Aslan’s sight, something invisible to others, including Lumel, floated.
The system window listing the party members except Ereta.
Aslan hovered his finger over it, glancing at Lumel, who responded with a slight opening of his mouth.
To Lumel, this battle felt like one where luck was on his side.
Without luck, he would have died long ago, surviving multiple life-threatening situations purely due to good fortune.
Possessing a sturdier body might reduce such incidents.
However, he also wondered if something initially unsuitable might be the best option.
Though still unclear, Lumel had a gut feeling that the new spear technique he had acquired might make that possible.
Thus, after pondering briefly, Lumel spoke.
“Can concentration be improved as well?”
Concentration.
A word with implications for Aslan, who handled special abilities.
To confirm, Aslan asked:
“Do you want to handle lightning more frequently?”
Nodding at Aslan’s question, Lumel affirmed.
If that was the case, the stat allocation was decided.
Aslan looked at the system window and moved his finger.
This time, Aslan’s level-up was 2, and the party members could increase their levels by 1.
Therefore, each member gained a total of 3 stats, which Aslan allocated without hesitation according to their wishes.
If it were a game, he might have distributed freely, but since it wasn’t, it seemed better to align with each individual’s desires and combat style.
So, Aslan pressed firmly under the name Lumel van Holrn.
[Lumel van Holrn]
[Level: 6]
[Strength 8] [Agility 5] [Health 3]
[Mana 1] [Willpower 5] [Luck 5]
Lumel’s stats became quite balanced—good but not outstanding in a game context.
The stats of the other party members displayed similarly.
[Aslan]
[Level: 12]
[Strength 2] [Agility ■] [Health 2]
[Mana 16] [Willpower 10] [Luck 10]
[Angela Tail]
[Level: 12]
[Strength 11] [Agility 10] [Health 15]
[Mana ■] [Willpower ■] [Luck ■]
[Phey]
[Level: 6]
[Strength 2] [Agility 19] [Health 5]
[Mana 1] [Willpower 2] [Luck 5]
[Tiya Mal Clo]
[Level: 6]
[Strength 11] [Agility 1] [Health 2]
[Mana 1] [Willpower 2] [Luck 14]
[Richard Auris Helsing]
[Level: 6]
[Strength 10] [Agility 10] [Health 6(4)]
[Mana 1] [Willpower 2] [Luck 4]
Yet, Aslan’s expression held no worry.
Each member’s stats matched their combat styles.
Angie invested 5 points in health for a stronger body and 1 point in strength.
Phey answered with speed, allocating all 3 points to agility.
Tiya Mal requested detection abilities, putting 3 points into luck.
On the other hand, Richard casually asked for an even distribution, prompting a mild reprimand from Aslan before allocating 1 point each to strength, agility, and health.
After closing the system window, Lumel watched Aslan waving his finger in the air, curious about the action or the situation.
So, Aslan explained promptly.
“Firstly, the labyrinth has collapsed.”
Starting with the bad news, Aslan smiled gently as Lumel’s shocked expression appeared.
“All specters are dead. Whether they became priests or not… any hostile ones were eliminated. Two survived though…”
“Did you let them go?”
“Yeah, they were allies. They fought for me risking their lives. But they had no intention to harm.”
Above all, Aslan trusted his own judgment.
Having endured 12 years in Geladridion filled with betrayals, Aslan was confident these two wouldn’t betray.
With that assured look, Lumel hesitated, wanting to say something but couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“Besides, if they intended to betray, they would have done so already.”
“That’s true…”
That was all Lumel could reply.
Thus, a natural silence ensued. Within it, Aslan smiled gratefully and spoke.
“Our next destination is the Kingdom of Pervere.”
At this unexpected declaration, Lumel looked up, confused, and Aslan nodded at him.
“The Kingdom of Pervere… isn’t it a fallen nation? I heard there’s not a single life left.”
Aslan chuckled sheepishly.
“It doesn’t seem entirely true.”
Aslan replied, pulling out the banner from his cloak.
The octagonal banner received earlier from the knight who lost both arms.
On it, the sea and the night sky were engraved.
While Lumel observed the banner, Aslan continued.
“There’s a fortress touching the lost territory of the Kingdom of Pervere. People who couldn’t leave the kingdom are being protected there.”
At Aslan’s casual statement, Lumel blinked, unable to understand why they were heading to the Kingdom of Pervere.
With a questioning gaze, Aslan murmured,
“Purity.”
Without a sword in hand, no white blade emerged from his palm.
“The name of the sword I use. It’s the arrangement of the ancient gods and simultaneously a weapon needed to save the world.”
When unheard words drew the party’s attention, Aslan addressed their gazes.
“So originally, I planned to descend to the southern continent to find a veteran mage or the remaining sanctuary of the gods. Since sanctuaries should hold arrangements.”
“Reasonable. So?”
When Tiya Mal crossed his arms and asked, Aslan shrugged.
“The problem is, His Majesty the Emperor doesn’t know the whereabouts of the veteran mage’s experiment subjects either. Although he promised to investigate, it seems distant for now. Hence, we’re going to the Kingdom of Pervere.”
“Eh, did I misunderstand again? Why are we going?”
When Angie asked with a bewildered expression, Aslan glanced at her briefly before turning to Phey.
Rarely showing discomfort, Phey exchanged looks with Aslan.
Their first defeat together, which should have been guarding the sanctuary of Eternity and Night in the northern continent, lingered in Phey’s mind.
Understanding the oddity in her discomfort, Phey looked at Aslan.
Aslan nodded at her gaze.
“The sanctuary of Eternity and Night, which should have been completely erased from this land… One more remains. Right where we’re heading, the fortress touching the lost territory.”
The symbol was embedded in the banner given by the knight who lost both arms.
Recalling the knight’s words as he looked at the banner,
“Our next destination is above that fortress, the fortress of traitors.”
Speaking of the sanctuary located above the fortress.
