The wind blew, and Tiamat rode atop the beast, letting it hit her as she did so.
In the past, she would have felt the cold from this wind, but now that she had gained divine power and other means, her senses themselves had reached an entirely different dimension, and she no longer felt the chill as much.
Motion sickness was the same. Since she couldn’t see, there was no dissonance between her senses, so no matter how rough the movement, she was fine.
But all of these things were trivial compared to what she had lost in exchange for regaining her brother’s eyes.
Even if she got motion sickness again or felt the cold once more, she wished she could get them back.
Knowing full well that such a thing wouldn’t happen, she remained silent.
Tiamat rode on the spirit beast, facing the wind while gripping her bow tightly.
Passing by countless lush greens and layered clouds with a setting sun.
Amidst this, Tiamat daydreamed.
The long shadows cast by the sunset through the bars made her suddenly realize that Harrod was there with her.
Was this an illusion?
Or a dream?
It was neither. If anything, it was a dream, but this dream was clearly based on past memories.
“Brother, have you truly decided to quit?”
Now, his voice was so faded that it sounded like someone else’s—Harrod’s words.
Upon hearing those words, Tiamat turned her head.
There stood a dragonkin with the same vivid red scales as her, looking just as clear.
Seeing him brought tears to her eyes, yet the Tiamat in the dream didn’t shed a single one.
“You’ve managed to hear something again, haven’t you?”
Tiamat let out an awkward smile as she said this, and Harrod wore a hurt expression at her words.
At this time, Tiamat had already resigned as commander and left Belus Alphen, traveling outside to Geladridion.
The dream she was seeing now was, in fact, a memory right before that moment.
A memory from before Harrod had been captured by Olpasbet during one of his travels, trying to follow in Tiamat’s footsteps.
Right before then, they had shared this conversation.
“Where will you go?”
Harrod asked with a hurt expression, swiping his tail along the ground as he questioned her.
He seemed to hope for some clear destination, but unfortunately, Tiamat couldn’t provide one.
Because even Tiamat didn’t know where she was heading.
Her decision to resign from being a commander and choose travel was purely due to vague impulses.
So, naturally, she pestered and nagged a blacksmith she knew to craft a large bow, equipped herself with a few handmade arrows, and set off.
Looking back now, it was a setup for certain death, but fortunately, luck was on her side.
Ultimately, she didn’t die, and during her travels, she built a modest reputation, occasionally getting hired.
However, the Tiamat of that time had no knowledge of such a future.
All she had was a suffocating sense of ambiguity that pushed her forward.
This vagueness inevitably turned into frustration, and eventually, Tiamat opened her mouth and let out a grandiose but hollow statement.
Even now, dreaming while not having a bad memory, Tiamat couldn’t recall exactly what she had said back then.
She must have uttered something pitiful.
Just spewing out random impressive-sounding phrases.
Thus, there would have been nothing to say even if someone had laughed after hearing it.
Even the Tiamat of that time knew this, and the current Tiamat, though unable to remember the exact words, understood that they were statements like that.
Therefore, when Tiamat tried to change the subject, Harrod reacted unexpectedly.
He received Tiamat’s words not only warmly but also with deep admiration.
“Indeed, Brother. It’s clear that a hero like you cannot be confined within Belus Alphen.”
Smiling up at Tiamat, his younger brother.
Tiamat looked down at her brother, who gazed up at her with admiration and smiled.
“I wish you a safe journey.”
Thinking it was fortunate, Tiamat chuckled heartily.
To such a Tiamat, Harrod posed a question that Tiamat would remember and regret for the rest of her life.
“Can I become a great warrior like Brother?”
“Of course! Aren’t you my younger brother? So surely, you can become a hero greater than me!”
Out of admiration, Tiamat instilled comfortable hopes.
“To meet as the best!”
Tiamat still regretted saying those words.
If only she had scolded him, trampled on him, and kept him in Belus Alphen.
Or, at least, if she had used some other appealing words and urged him to become the best in Belus Alphen.
As a dragonkin, as the superior descendant of dragons, if only she hadn’t told him it was his duty to shoulder that responsibility.
If only she hadn’t told him that fighting with pride and honor meant dying without regrets.
If only she hadn’t dazzled her younger brother with such grandiose words, how much better it would have been.
Tiamat regretted it.
Such thoughts swirled incessantly in the midst of her daydream, and Tiamat snapped out of it when Aslan called her name.
“Tiamat!”
Chak!
Swinging purity slashed through the charging beast, cutting its corpse in half.
The abnormal cutting power split the beast in two, and the skillful technique beyond human capability severed its limbs.
Thud, thud—the sound of falling flesh passed by as Tiamat sensed her surroundings.
They were crossing through the forest.
The spirit beast ran at an astonishing speed, and Aslan, keeping pace using acceleration and the power of his cloak, cut down the rushing corpses.
The spirit beast crushed or shattered any corpses Aslan missed, while Tiamat, perched atop it, held her bow firmly but blankly.
She had leisure because Aslan had advised her to conserve her arrows.
Instead, Aslan and the spirit beast destroyed the corpses.
Corpses shattered by destructive attacks no longer moved or posed a threat, allowing the duo and the spirit beast to glide past the bodies toward the direction of the sanctuary.
Was this leisure the cause of her daydream? Or was there another reason?
Tiamat, unaware of the reason, shook her head and apologized.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, just focus! We’ll arrive soon!”
Aslan responded casually as he moved forward.
In three strides, he widened the distance, drew out the shortbow Tiamal had handed him earlier, and placed an arrow made of abyss onto it.
Tu-tu-tung! Break!
Three dark writhing arrows shot out, breaking the shortbow.
The flying arrows pierced through the trees and impaled the beasts just about to charge.
The pierced corpses were consumed by the abyss and disappeared instantly.
Behind them, countless beasts charged desperately.
Facing this diverse army, Aslan discarded the broken bow and drew out his Abyss Sword.
Holding the shadow-forged single-edged sword and the radiant greatsword of purity, Aslan halted the army.
The first bear charging in.
With a short swing of purity, he severed its legs and pierced it with a spear-shaped abyss as it thrashed around.
Then, a pack of about ten wolves rushed in to fill the space vacated by the fallen bear’s corpse.
Aslan swiftly extended his hand and muttered.
“Fireball.”
Then, the magical power coursing through his palm shot out as fire.
Kwa-a-a-a-aang!
Surrounded by flames, the corpses collapsed and didn’t rise again.
The fire created by magic at the level of divinity possessed such power.
Instantly burning the flesh to immobilize the corpses, the magic dissipated immediately afterward, preventing the forest from catching fire.
Aslan dashed forward, wielding purity and abyss with fluid movements.
Swinging the abyss sword in a pulsating form to sever the wolf corpse’s legs.
Swinging purity to cut through the bear’s spine.
Using the flail-shaped abyss to crush the troll’s head.
Finishing it off with the Dragon King’s Fist by snapping the neck bones.
All these motions connected organically, leaving no room for Tiamat to shoot her arrows.
Beyond Aslan’s figure, the outline of a massive structure was gradually revealed.
Thus, Tiamat inevitably guessed it was the sanctuary as she felt the wind against her skin.
It was truly the sanctuary of hunting and prosperity.
Decorated with countless animal bones and filled with every kind of animalistic symbol, the sanctuary.
Its angular surface, resembling scattered jewels, gave an impression akin to a cave.
And at the moment of sensing this, strange things appeared among the charging corpses.
“GOOOOOO!”
Leading the charge was a Wendigo.
A monster born from the corruption of a follower who had received the sanctity of eternity and night.
Even with its eye sockets pierced by arrows and its chest skewered by a spear, it continued to charge.
Cold breath spewed from its mouth, and the heavy pounding of its two front paws resonated across the land.
It wasn’t a match for Aslan.
That is, if dozens of such monsters imbued with sanctity weren’t charging towards Aslan right now.
Suddenly, dozens of ice pillars erupted along the trajectory of their passage, and atop them, wraiths leapt down.
Below, something resembling a werewolf emerged from the corpse of something non-human, howling ferociously as it approached.
Beside it, a monstrous creature the size of a house, the Tarasque, pressed from the side.
An obvious coordinated attack. The precision of the movements suggested the presence of a commander.
Aslan shouted.
“Tiamat! Fire your arrows!”
Aslan shouted sharply, raising the swords of purity and abyss, while the spirit beast tore apart the charging corpses with its forepaws.
On top of it, Tiamat finally snapped out of it and gripped her bow.
What needed to be done hadn’t changed since she’d gone blind and lost her brother.
For she was the master archer.
With economical motions, she aimed her bow and fired the arrow she had drawn.
Whoosh!
A thunderous sound, rare even from a greatbow, accompanied the trembling air as the arrow whistled through.
Kwaa-d-d-d-d!
The target of the arrow was the Wendigo. Given its ability to alter the terrain, it had to be dealt with first to prevent division.
But the arrow aimed at it was blocked when the Tarasque diving from the side intercepted it.
The monstrous creature bellowing like a cow twisted its body as it roared.
Though the arrow was embedded so deeply that only its tip was visible, the Tarasque did not retreat.
Ki-i-i-i-i!
While Tiamat was loading the next arrow onto the string, the wraith above the Tarasque’s head swooped down with a fierce cry.
Simultaneously, a wall of ice rose between Aslan and Tiamat.
The target was obvious. A strategy of isolating them.
Obvious, yet the monsters’ movements were intricately synchronized enough that a regular human mercenary would have been helpless against them.
Fortunately, neither Aslan nor Tiamat were weak enough to fall for such a shallow trick.
Leaping forward, Aslan deflected the claw of the werewolf lunging at him and slashed horizontally with the abyss blade.
The shadow-forged blade sliced through the werewolf’s body, and Aslan capitalized on the brief opening by leaping up.
Whoosh!
Accelerated by Hel’s wind, Aslan leaped up.
He transformed the abyss into the shape of a greatbow and loaded an arrow made of abyss.
Twang!
The arrow fired by Aslan pierced through the head of the wraith charging at Tiamat, felling it.
At the moment the wraith fell, Tiamat aimed her arrow at the Tarasque’s head and fired.
Bang!
Shattering carapace and skull.
The arrow piercing through the head and protruding out the other side.
Having lost its momentum but still driven by force, the arrow crushed the approaching Wendigo and collapsed.
Even as such formidable monsters fell, Aslan did not lower his guard as he landed.
Similarly, Tiamat raised her bow and scanned her surroundings, while the spirit beast growled lowly beneath her.
The area was still filled with corpses.
These corpses moved in perfect unison, encircling Aslan, Tiamat, and the spirit beast.
It wasn’t impossible to defeat them.
But Aslan didn’t want to waste time here battling the spirit beast corpses inside.
Neither Aslan nor Tiamat were experts in necromancy, but they could guess that this precise command was possible because someone was controlling them.
Without exchanging glances, the two warriors read each other’s thoughts and precisely identified the commander.
The commander would likely be observing from a high vantage point.
So, there was a high probability they would be at the front of the sanctuary.
To turn this guess into certainty, Tiamat deliberately focused on the wind caressing her skin and, amidst the countless decaying smells, pinpointed one that was less rotten.
Someone cloaked, watching the battle between Aslan, Tiamat, and the spirit beast at the entrance to the sanctuary.
“Tiamat.”
“Yeah.”
In response to Tiamat’s quiet mutter, Aslan pulled out a scroll and, transforming the abyss sword into a shield, stepped back.
Gaaaah!
As the corpses noticed this ominous movement and began to stir, Tiamat raised her bow, and Aslan ignited the scroll with mana.
“Shield!”
From Aslan’s hands, a translucent blue disc floated up, blocking the advancing corpses.
Those who dodged the shield were stopped by the shield formed from the abyss.
Dong, tu-tu-tung.
As the sound of hammering against the magical shield faintly echoed, Tiamat aimed her bow at the mage.
Tiamat’s aim was precise.
She claimed confidently that she had never missed a target she aimed at.
To the extent that she could even shoot an arrow into the air and make it intersect with a direct shot.
Tiamat’s exceptional perception made this possible.
A tactile sense that allowed her to perceive the state of her target and even its future at the moment of aiming.
Measuring movement with utmost precision through airflow, grasping the target more accurately than herself.
From heartbeats to movements, and even appearance and vulnerabilities.
Thus, Tiamat realized in the instant she was about to release the string.
Recognizing it, her hand froze.
Reflexively, she twisted the bow, introducing an error into her otherwise perfect aim.
Twang!
The arrow flew, creating fissures in the ground.
A strike that would prove fatal even to a priest of predators if struck.
This strike missed, and the wind blew.
Kwa-a-a-a-aang!
The arrow embedded itself in the wall of the sanctuary.
The passing arrow caused the hood of the robe worn by the mage to fall off.
And thus, both Aslan and Tiamat saw it.
Blood-red scales, and beneath them, a familiar face.
“Ha, Rod?”
Tiamat muttered.
Aslan lost his words and opened his mouth wide in shock, calculating the figure before them.
The heightened senses possessed by Tiamat and Aslan, surpassing those of humans, starkly confirmed that the sight before them was neither an illusion nor a hallucination.
There stood Harrod, Tiamat’s brother, who had died beside her after losing his lower body.
Realizing the moment the arrow missed, another reflexively drawn arrow rolled on the floor.
The pre-divine-level tactile sense, that advanced perception, reaffirmed the grim suspicion.
This entity was Harrod himself, Tiamat’s brother who had died for her.
Her hands trembled. A sensation akin to the world flipping upside down, her vision tilting, accompanied by Tiamat’s quickening breaths.
Rising nausea and dizziness. As Tiamat wavered atop the spirit beast, Harrod looked at her with a vacant gaze.
And he smiled.
A terrifying smile, clearly not of his own volition.
More horrifying was the voice.
“Brother,”
The raspy voice seeping out from the torn vocal cords.
At the sound of that voice, Tiamat plunged into the depths of an abysmal evil.
