Maximum deployment of the Abyss.
A last resort technique of Aslan’s, which places an area under the influence of the Abyss, allowing for the recreation of direct attacks from the Abyss or weapons forged from it.
The duration was never long to begin with.
Even shorter due to its already limited effective time, and further reduced because of the proximity to the sanctuary filled with the divine power of the deity of hunting and prosperity.
Essentially, the maximum time the Abyss, which doesn’t originate from this world, could be sustained was a mere five minutes or so.
It’s a short time. Too short to eliminate all the bodies numbering in the hundreds.
But if Aslan uses it, things change.
For Aslan, it was more than enough.
Thus, when the shadow that had spread like a thick fog dissipated after five minutes had passed,
Corpses were scattered everywhere.
Each one had their limbs severed or was bisected at the waist, still twitching.
At the center stood Aslan.
Unscathed, he was merely catching his rough breath, nothing more.
After a while, he caught his breath, looked up at the sanctuary, and made an uncomfortable expression.
“Did I miss?”
The reason became clear through his muttered words.
Harold, who should have been split in two and sprawled at the entrance of the sanctuary, had long since disappeared.
Moreover, the sanctuary was now blocked.
The previously open entrance was obstructed, so Aslan clicked his tongue and returned the Abyss Blade to his waist.
“You’ve worked hard, Lewena.”
Speaking to his unresponsive wife as he returned the Abyss Blade to his waist, an eerie sensation swirled around them in the blowing wind.
Aside from Aslan and Tiamat, there were no living beings left, nor anyone who could cause harm. Everything they needed to do was complete.
So now, it was time to face internal issues.
Aslan turned his head to look at Tiamat and approached her as she remained curled up.
He was still emitting painful groans.
This was only natural.
No matter how much of a veteran warrior Tiamat was, having experienced countless battles, he was still human.
Being human, it was impossible to recover from such pain in just five minutes.
Even if given five years instead of five minutes to calm down, tend to wounds, and overcome the pain, it would have been insufficient.
Especially if the event involved the death of family members and the mutilation of their bodies by his own hands, it would remain painful even over a lifetime.
Understanding this, Aslan slowly approached Tiamat.
Watching him still curled up and panting, Aslan said nothing.
He simply stood quietly in front of him.
Tiamat, who had sensed his presence long ago, asked in a pained voice while remaining curled up.
“Why… did you do it?”
Aslan wore a puzzled expression as he didn’t immediately understand the question, and Tiamat sighed self-deprecatingly.
“It was immediately clear that you couldn’t repeat that technique just now. And also, it shouldn’t have been used against the enemy… So why did you use it?”
Tiamat had no eyes, but his sensory organs surpassed them.
He realized the entrance to the sanctuary was blocked from the wind blowing through, and spoke between his painful groans.
“We were told we needed to enter the sanctuary, weren’t we? We were told that with thousands of corpses piled up inside, people would be in danger if we didn’t go in, right?”
In Aslan’s silence, Tiamat continued pitifully.
“There was no reason to use that technique here. If you had just left me behind and gone into the sanctuary…”
His words trailed off in silence.
“I couldn’t leave you behind.”
Aslan said this, and Tiamal lowered his head without responding.
In the stillness of the swirling world, Tiamat was too weak to continue speaking.
As the steps approached slowly, Tiamat felt nauseous and ducked his head away from the outstretched hand.
Quietly crouched Tiamat, Aslan standing before him with his hand extended, and the spirit watching silently from behind.
Under the gaze of these two pairs of eyes, Tiamat trembled.
“I am… pathetic.”
It was quiet. Feeling the wind blowing, Tiamat spoke.
“I had something important to do… but I failed, making your task harder. I… I… just…”
Failed just because of his younger brother.
Though he tried to say it, the words wouldn’t come out.
Because he knew better than anyone else that it wasn’t “just” about his younger brother.
He couldn’t finish his sentence, lowering his head as if to protect his vomit, curling up his body. Aslan watched him silently for a moment and then spoke.
“There is no room for shame when it comes to wounds, Tiamat.”
Tiamat didn’t raise his head, but Aslan quietly looked towards the sanctuary.
“I couldn’t leave you behind and go inside, nor could I indifferently overlook what you’re going through.”
You are my friend. Moved by the warmth in those words, Tiamat involuntarily raised his head, and Aslan, seeing his bloodshot tears, continued.
“I can’t be efficient enough to be indifferent to the suffering of my friends. I’m someone who instinctively reaches out to those in pain, even if it’s impractical or inefficient and leads to failure.”
Even if it means being ineffective or inefficient and risking failure.
Aslan will undoubtedly act this way.
Tiamat had confirmed this truth during his time with Aslan, and thus knew these were not empty words.
His past actions proved it.
Furthermore, Tiamat thought:
“No, even if you weren’t my friend, if it were someone else, you would have done the same.”
That was the kind of man Aslan was.
Even for someone he barely knew, Aslan couldn’t turn a blind eye to their suffering.
Aslan was always the one to rise angrily and boldly step forward for such people.
Knowing this about Aslan, Tiamat wandered in confusion.
Tiamat knew Aslan’s story well.
He knew of the pain and disgraceful history.
Because of this, feelings of self-loathing arose.
Aslan had to kill the ones he loved with his own hands.
For twelve years wandering, Aslan endured countless betrayals and partings.
Just looking at his melancholic face revealed the vividness of his history.
Unlike Tiamat, who collapsed after experiencing it just once, Aslan never fell despite all the pain and humiliation.
“How do you…?”
Driven by this, Tiamat unconsciously opened his mouth, only to close it again because of the overwhelming pain.
Nevertheless, Aslan understood and stared blankly at Tiamat.
After a prolonged gaze, Aslan helped Tiamat to his feet by grabbing his arm.
“Because I have many things to protect.”
Hearing these murmured words, Tiamat looked at Aslan with a dazed expression.
“Just because I’ve lost something doesn’t mean I can abandon everything else I need to protect. That’s why I don’t fall.”
Aslan stated this while directly meeting Tiamat’s pained expression.
Listening to Aslan’s words, Tiamat lowered his head in self-contempt.
Once again, silence enveloped them as the spirit emitted a low growl.
The spirit confirmed kills by pressing down on several corpses with its large forepaws.
Amidst the sounds of crushed corpses, the spirit moved towards the sanctuary.
Aslan glanced at the spirit and understood the reason it brought them here.
It might have been a coincidence, but Aslan felt it was like a call for closure.
However, does Tiamat really need to suffer as well?
Aslan considered this and extended his hand.
“Tiamat.”
The touch on Tiamat’s shoulder.
With his towering figure bending slightly, Aslan softly suggested,
“You can go back first if you want.”
“I…”
“I know why you’re asking, and I know what you mean… But I don’t want to see my friend in pain. I don’t want to force you through a painful experience unnecessarily. So, feel free to go back and wait.”
The gentle smile accompanying these words.
Tiamat found resisting this temptation incredibly difficult.
He clenched his teeth involuntarily, thinking about accepting the burden, escaping from this pain, and lowering his head.
“I’ll tie up the loose ends with Harold.”
“No.”
Clutching his teeth and struggling to breathe, Tiamat declared,
“I’m going with you.”
Staggering to his feet using his bow as a cane, taking a few steps despite persistent dizziness, Tiamat insisted,
“Harold ended up like this because of me.”
Perhaps it wasn’t his fault, but he resisted the urge to escape that possibility.
“Because of my mistake, Harold is suffering even in death. Therefore, I…”
Perhaps there might be a way to save Harold, a delusion he entertained.
“I need to end Harold myself. It’s my responsibility.”
Tiamat said this.
The sincerity and falsehood in these words were equal, causing Aslan to regard Tiamat with concern for quite some time.
Despite the concerned gaze, Tiamat wavered but did not fall.
After confirming the sincerity, Aslan greeted Tiamat with a soft sigh.
“You can retreat anytime, so don’t push yourself.”
And they approached the sanctuary. Breaking through the blocked passage was a simple task.
With a low growl from the spirit, purity manifested as white light and carved open the passage.
*
Far beyond the seemingly endless corridor, Harold lay there.
His resting place resembled an altar or operating table.
There he lay, raising his decayed sensory organs against the blowing wind.
Gradually losing consciousness, he felt an unimaginable loneliness.
But he was not alone.
Something resembling and yet unlike a person was beside him.
Something overly mechanical to be human. This entity looked down at him with apparent interest, saying something incomprehensible to Harold.
With his decaying brain already subjected to brainwashing, Harold lacked the capacity to resist the ongoing bodily modifications.
Indeed, he could barely recall his own name.
He was Harold Crow, but he no longer remembered it.
Moments earlier, he met someone who dismembered him, whom he vaguely recalled as “brother.”
Even the definition of “brother” was unclear to him.
What is a brother? He knew it was a kind of family relationship, but what exactly was family?
Thus, he couldn’t comprehend why his brother, who had blown off his lower body, was vomiting and writhing in agony.
Similarly, he hardly understood the current situation.
“―Mana output is higher than expected―”
His deteriorating hearing picked up few intelligible words, and even if he heard them, understanding them instantly was nearly impossible.
Yet, he faintly grasped the changes happening to his body.
He was being modified to repel intruders.
The one modifying Harold’s corpse into something mechanical addressed everything formally and arrogantly.
Harold was transforming into a similar mechanical form.
The purpose of this new form was clear.
To repel intruders.
Perhaps, to annihilate them.
The mechanical entity gleefully attached various mechanical weapons to Harold’s limbs as if enjoying the process immensely.
