The process took some time.
Of course, it wasn’t because there were too many immigrants.
The Empire’s administrative capacity wasn’t so weak that it would be paralyzed by merely 287 people, so the cause lay elsewhere.
The Empire was meticulously verifying the identities of those 287 individuals.
Whether they were truly human, and if so, whether they served any deity.
Whether they had the means to summon a priest.
Such elements were being checked in detail, which took considerable time.
Regyn Solis initially complained about this, but the Empire mentioned that if priests or believers were mixed in, it could lead to disaster after resettlement, silencing him.
It was due to Regyn Solis’ awareness.
Priests are noticeable, but believers aren’t.
Thus, the immigration procedures took time, and Aslan’s group, protecting the immigrant convoy, found themselves with extra time on their hands.
And while waiting for time to pass, each member of the group went about finding something to do.
Richard headed toward the Maresa City Union to send letters to his father and fiancée.
Phey had dragged Lumel away to train with his newly acquired special ability.
Among those left behind, some had things to do, while others simply didn’t have anything to occupy themselves with.
Ereta couldn’t leave the campsite since she had to protect it with divine power. Tiamat, Lewena, Aslan, and Angie all had nothing to do and idled around.
Among them, Aslan was particularly restless.
The border is guarded by the Imperial Army, and the faint death spread by the Veil of Mercy is intercepted by Ereta.
There was no need to gather food either, as all provisions were supplied by the Empire.
There was nothing lacking, yet whenever Aslan tried to find work nearby, the immigrants had already taken care of it.
Thus, Aslan woke up late in the morning, got dressed, and inevitably pondered how to pass the day.
And just as his thoughts drifted toward inappropriate directions, he shook his head unconsciously when a voice called out.
“Aslan.”
Suddenly, Tiamat’s voice came from outside Aslan’s tent.
“Are you busy?”
Tiamat asked, and Aslan snapped out of his reverie.
“No, not really.”
A delayed response. Tiamat, upon hearing this, poked her head into the tent and tossed something inside.
Reflexively catching it, Aslan realized it was a bow.
An utterly ordinary wooden shortbow.
When Aslan looked up, Tiamat said,
“Then let’s go hunting.”
*
“A, Aslan.”
As Aslan slung the bow over his back and followed Tiamat out, a woman’s voice suddenly reached his ears.
The woman approaching seemed still sleepy, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.
Despite her gentle gaze heavy with sleep, she approached like a lost puppy wagging its tail.
And proving her weakness in the morning, she covered her mouth and yawned lightly before blinking her pink eyes.
“Ereta.”
“Where are you going? Can I…?”
Ereta smiled faintly at the sound of her name and said this.
Her delicate hair swayed like spider silk as she tilted her head slightly.
Though she wanted to bring her along, Aslan knew he couldn’t. He thought about it and smiled.
“It’s fine. We’ll be back soon, just the two of us.”
Ereta pouted slightly at Aslan’s answer, showing a somewhat regretful expression. Seeing this, Aslan added,
“If you leave, there will be no one—no deity—to stop the Veil of Mercy’s death. Please wait. I’ll take you later.”
Surely, she’d understand that. Aslan thought so.
However, Ereta didn’t obediently agree and retreat as usual; instead, she wore an expression full of dissatisfaction.
“When is ‘later’?”
“Huh?”
Perhaps sensing the conversation would drag on, Tiamat glanced and then left ahead. Aslan turned his head to look at her retreating figure before returning his gaze to Ereta.
Ereta blinked her pink eyes, still heavy with sleep, as she gazed at Aslan.
What should I say? Pondering this, Aslan hedged.
“Whenever you want…”
“Then after you’re done hunting with Tiamat, come out with me too.”
Ereta asserted firmly.
Aslan could only display a troubled expression, acknowledging her request.
Scratching his cheek, he glanced at Tiamat walking ahead and spoke.
“Why are you throwing tantrums all of a sudden? You never used to.”
Reaching out to touch Ereta’s cheek, Aslan noticed her leaning into the touch, drowsily smiling.
“You never play with me unless I throw tantrums. So…”
Drawing out her words, Aslan realized she was recalling the last festival and chuckled awkwardly.
“It’s not always like that… Anyway, I’ll be back. Let’s talk then.”
“Okay~”
Aslan rubbed Ereta’s cheek and left, and for quite some time, Ereta waved goodbye to him.
By the time he finally caught up with Tiamat who had been leading ahead, Ereta’s figure was nowhere to be seen.
As soon as Aslan caught up, Tiamat suddenly said,
“At first, I thought you were socially awkward, but now I see you’re quite the dangerous type.”
“Huh?”
“You. You naturally seduce women without even realizing it… It’s like watching my younger self.”
Aslan’s eyes widened in surprise at Tiamat making such remarks after such a long time. Sensing his reaction through his skin, Tiamat closed his mouth awkwardly.
Aslan momentarily regretted his reaction but couldn’t help it.
Aslan knew that since both he and Harrod had died, Tiamat’s condition hadn’t changed much.
He had always been in poor shape.
Even when Regyn Solis awakened last time, despite losing much, he stubbornly stuck to his duties and left with a painful expression.
Seeing Tiamat act this way out of the blue felt ominous, akin to seeing someone suffering from depression suddenly acting cheerful.
Normally, it was a sign that could lead to suicide.
So, when Aslan looked at him with concern, Tiamat awkwardly stroked his chin.
“I’m fine. Just…”
With a dismissive nod, Tiamat fell silent and continued leading the way. When Aslan tried to speak, Tiamat shook his head to cut him off.
What just happened? This thought lingered in Aslan’s mind as Tiamat led him past a few hills and into a forest nestled between several ridges.
At a trail leading into the lush forest, Tiamat suddenly said,
“This place is called Wolf Valley.”
Wolf Valley. A familiar name. He’d visited a few times and also encountered it in the game.
“One of the immigrants told me that it used to be called this because there were too many wolves here. More specifically, until the Veil of Mercy destroyed the Pervere Kingdom.”
“There aren’t any wolves left now,” Tiamat added naturally, and Aslan nodded in agreement.
The Veil of Mercy’s faint death spared none.
Only those endowed with divine power could endure it.
Any other life forms would freeze and die quickly.
Recalling this fact, Aslan made a curious sound: “Hmm?”
“You said we were going hunting, right?”
Upon reflection, Tiamat had only mentioned going hunting, without specifying a destination or purpose.
We already have more than enough food. What kind of hunting is this? This natural question arose, and Tiamat answered straightforwardly.
“Yeah, I did say we were going hunting.”
“Did you lie?”
“No, it’s not a lie. We really are out hunting.”
“But all the wolves are… ”
“Not here to hunt wolves. Some immigrants said that children who ventured near here encountered a monster and barely escaped.”
Only then did Aslan understand what Tiamat meant by hunting.
Tiamat had brought Aslan out to hunt monsters.
This Wolf Valley wasn’t far from the immigrant camp.
If a monster appeared here and it wasn’t a mere illusion, the camp would likely be attacked soon.
Realizing this, Tiamat explained to Aslan.
“This hunt also serves as reconnaissance. It might be a misconception, or perhaps something even more dangerous. It could also be a trap set to lure us out.”
“We’ll need to confirm even if it’s a trap, right? Then…”
“Exactly. We need someone capable of responding in case of trouble. Richard can’t track stealthily, and the kid isn’t adept at blocking threats. Bringing Angie would mean destroying the forest entirely, which we can’t afford. Hence, it’s you.”
Lumel was unsuitable for forest combat due to his heavy armor, and Ereta needed to protect the camp with her divine power.
Thus, it was Aslan.
Aslan, versatile enough to handle any situation and able to relay information through Lewena.
“With just the two of us, we’ll deal with it if we can. If it gets too tough, we’ll retreat. You can cover our backs. Even if the monster turns out to be a high-ranking priest, you can carve a path out, right?”
“…Alright.”
Aslan listened to Tiamat’s words and realized he would’ve made the same judgment.
Tiamat’s decision was rational.
Even amidst self-loathing and anger, he remained logical.
Was it because he was once a commander? Or was it due to his innate disposition?
Regardless, this rationality planted a certain question in Aslan’s mind.
Tiamat was grieving the loss of his brother and family.
Humans could understand that.
But dragons, unless they were nobles like Hedna or Heart, lacked the concept of family. At most, they recognized fellow clansmen.
Typically, when a fellow dragon died, they would mourn briefly but celebrate and move forward with the battle.
Yet Tiamat was different.
Tiamat and Harrod reminded one of human brothers.
“Maybe it’s because Tiamat himself is unique among dragons.”
Upon further reflection, it was unusual for a dragon with poor eyesight to use a bow.
Using a bow was almost unheard of for dragons. How did he discover his talent for archery?
Aslan wondered, and Tiamat seemed to sense his thoughts from the wind blowing by.
“What are you so deep in thought about?”
Startled by the deep voice, Aslan scratched his cheek.
“Just thinking… well, you’re quite unique.”
Tiamat didn’t respond, and Aslan interpreted the silence as permission to continue.
“Dragons usually don’t have siblings or families. At most, they recognize clan members. But… you mourn Harrod’s death.”
“…Hmm.”
“To the point where you despise yourself for not being able to protect him.”
Tiamat quietly knelt on one knee and swept the ground with his finger.
“What exactly do you want to say, Aslan?”
His voice carried a semblance of anger, but Aslan knew it wasn’t directed at him.
“I just want to hear your story.”
The flick of Tiamat’s tail—a dragon’s way of showing discontent. To which Aslan added,
“Isn’t it natural to want to know why a friend is in pain?”
At this, the tail stopped moving.
“You’re undoubtedly extraordinary to keep fighting even after losing Harrod.”
Aslan looked at Tiamat and said,
“But that doesn’t mean I’m cruel enough to watch a friend suffer endlessly…”
That statement was pure truth. Watching Tiamat grieve was painful for Aslan.
He believed he bore some responsibility for Harrod’s death and perhaps could have prevented Tiamat’s current state.
And then…
“Maybe if we hadn’t fought the tyrant, Harrod wouldn’t have…”
“Stop.”
Before Aslan could finish his thoughts, Tiamat interrupted with a bitter smile.
“You’re awfully presumptuous.”
With that, Tiamat stood up and pointed.
“The trail leads that way.”
“Tiamat.”
“I’ll tell you along the way, so stop pestering. You’re usually more perceptive…”
Only then did Aslan fall silent, and Tiamat continued walking.
As the wind rustled the leaves, Tiamat began to speak.
“Harrod was born a few years apart from me. Initially, as you said, we only shared the consciousness of being clan members.”
When Aslan looked at him, Tiamat adjusted the bow slung over his shoulder.
“It stayed that way until we discovered we had the same scale color, were born of the same mother, and belonged to the same clan. But… Harrod seemed to perceive things differently.”
Suddenly interjecting, Tiamat glanced upward as if looking at a distant memory.
“When I became the youngest Commander, he had just entered adulthood and joined my warrior unit. He respected me.”
Recalling Tiamat’s stats when he integrated into the system, Aslan remembered how they far exceeded the average dragon’s capabilities. Standing at 2.5 meters, an imposing height even for a dragon, it wasn’t surprising that he earned respect as the youngest Commander.
Tiamat chuckled softly, as if reading Aslan’s thoughts.
“I was proud of myself, and… strangely, having Harrod follow me was both annoying and gratifying. It made me feel like I had accomplished something significant.”
Aslan recalled Harrod’s demeanor since the first time they met—his strict adherence to duty and respect for Tiamat. It seemed natural that Harrod would follow him.
Firstly, Tiamat was the youngest Commander and shared the same clan with Harrod.
Moreover, they shared the same mother and scale color.
Being followed like a brother seemed fitting.
Aslan understood, and Tiamat continued.
“He sought teachings from me, but I had little to offer… so I often took him hunting.”
“Hunting?”
Surprised by the unexpected story, Aslan questioned, and Tiamat nodded.
“So that’s when you started using a bow… or rather, how did you acquire it?”
Aslan asked curiously.
Typically, dragons, with their poor vision, don’t use ranged weapons like bows. Unless obtained externally, they rarely encounter such weapons.
Tiamat answered simply,
“Attacking Belus Alphen or dealing with wandering bandits near it is also part of a warrior unit’s duties. The bows were acquired during those operations. I… excelled at it.”
“Booty, huh…”
“Yes. The spoils of weaker foes gave me the first choice. And… I found bows intriguing. They were toys I wanted to play with.”
Seeing the weapon of death referred to as a toy revealed the dragon nature, prompting Aslan to close his mouth. Tiamat chuckled dryly.
“So, I often went hunting with Harrod, and it was quite enjoyable. Shooting tiny arrows that weren’t even as thick as spears and seeing warriors without proper shields fall easily—it was fascinating. The prey would drop instantly upon being hit.”
If practiced well, it would surely prove effective. Having witnessed Tiamat’s mastery, Aslan understood.
“As you know, I had a talent for it. Harrod didn’t, but he enjoyed watching me shoot. Perhaps I was the first dragon to wield a bow…”
Laughing hoarsely, Tiamat crouched down, revealing a second set of tracks to Aslan.
A massive paw print resembling that of a feline creature.
Could it be a maternal priest of such a colossal beast?
Aslan contemplated, and Tiamat spoke.
“You might think I didn’t do much for him. There wasn’t much I could teach him. Everything I had was innate. We just hunted together, joined the same warrior unit, and fought side by side.”
Lost in memories, Tiamat added bitterly,
“When I made mistakes, it was Harrod who covered for me. Despite not advancing or even being promoted as a commander, when asked why, he’d just laugh stupidly and say it was fine as long as I succeeded.”
I still don’t understand why he did that.
Rising, Tiamat showed Aslan a pained face.
“I don’t know why he followed me so devotedly or why he respected me so much. But… when I finally realized, he had become a brother to me.”
In Tiamat’s mind, Harrod’s final words were etched deeply.
“I loved him as a family member.”
Clamped jaws revealed fury beyond.
“He was… a foolish younger brother who kept covering for my mistakes till the end, laughing stupidly and saying it was fine as long as I succeeded.”
Self-loathing and anger.
Both emotions were directed inward at Tiamat himself.
Aslan understood these feelings.
Sometimes, only after losing something do we realize its true value.
“I still regret it sometimes. Losing my eyesight is irrelevant, but… not being there to witness his final moments still haunts me.”
“Tiamat…”
“Losing Harrod… makes me regret it multiple times a day, even without closing my eyes. I often indulged in foolish fantasies. If only I had recognized his mana earlier and nurtured him as a mage, could this have been avoided?”
Sighing deeply, the breath was hot. Feeling his insides burning, Tiamat laughed.
“Repeated failures frustrate me. Every time I reflect on them, I feel nauseated.”
Aslan lost for words at Tiamat’s confession.
The words spilling from Tiamat’s lips were impossible to comfort.
After uttering them, Tiamat chuckled hollowly.
“Don’t worry too much. It feels good to vent, somehow.”
And thus, he lied effortlessly, though Aslan clearly knew it wasn’t true.
Empty reassurance would only reopen old wounds.
Aslan felt powerless for the first time in a while and was distressed by it.
But he couldn’t just stand by.
“Tiamat, I…”
“Aslan.”
Tiamat flinched suddenly, and despite Aslan’s attempt to interrupt, Tiamat silenced him.
“No, Aslan. Behind us.”
Changing tone seriously, Tiamat spoke before Aslan stiffened his body, barely detecting the faintest trace of movement.
Grrrrr.
Familiar low growls echoed somewhere. Turning his head, Aslan saw an unfamiliar creature.
No, it was too large to be called an animal.
It was a tiger.
A sapphire-blue tiger stretching five meters in length.
As Aslan stared at the tiger, it strutted leisurely, showcasing its massive frame before disappearing into the woods.
“…What is that?”
The creature that evaded both Tiamat’s keen senses and Aslan’s intuition, lurking directly behind them.
Clearly not an ordinary beast, Tiamat instinctively asked, and Aslan unknowingly replied.
“Probably a spirit beast…”
Spirit Beast.
The perfect creation of hunting and prosperity, essentially a Lesser Divinity of hunting and prosperity.
A rare creature even in the game.
A creature whose location, timing, and species Aslan was fully aware of.
It definitely resembled one of them.
But he couldn’t be sure.
According to Aslan’s knowledge, there was no such large and green tiger in the game.
