Aslan interpreted the words he had let slip unconsciously.
Ados, Bishop Ados.
One of the specters the emperor himself mentioned as having been confirmed to be resurrected.
The grand veteran of law and order, and a high priestess of her deity.
A specter that had its spear stolen by Omul after being defeated, then went seeking vengeance in its later years only to perish again in defeat.
When Aslan reached this point, his gaze turned towards the face revealed when the hood was removed.
The others in the traveling party also recalled something similar and looked at Ados.
The deep question contained within that gaze could be summed up in one phrase: “Uncannily resembles Lumel.”
In fact, the only difference between them was their expressions.
If Lumel were to study Ados and replicate even her expressions, there would be no discernible differences.
It would be impossible to differentiate between the two.
Thus, reflexively, the group entered a state of alertness.
They exuded killing intent, their hands moved toward their weapons, and divine power surged for battle.
With an air of nonchalance, Ados smiled and crossed her arms behind her back.
Click.
At the center of it all, Aslan had already risen and gripped his sword hilt.
The blade he intended to draw was a copper-colored one.
Given the confined space, instead of a large beast or a destructive Abyssal blade, he opted for the Sword of the Watcher.
Summoning spiritual creatures through the Eye of Prosperity is restrained.
Even with just the killing intent emitted now, the tavern should have been sufficiently thrown into confusion.
There was no need to summon a spiritual creature to exacerbate the chaos.
However, Aslan soon had to abandon that thought.
Something felt off.
Unconsciously scanning with his eyes, all he saw was an utterly peaceful tavern.
Drinking alcohol, eating meals, and exchanging trivial conversations—humans and Green beings alike.
This sight deviated from Aslan’s expectations.
Something felt off.
Considering that among Aslan’s group were individuals surpassing the divine realm, and that the killing intent they emitted was far from ordinary…
This wasn’t a normal reaction.
Even Aslan himself could feel it sharply.
Yet, the people inside the tavern remained tranquil, seemingly oblivious to it all.
Furthermore, they didn’t even glance sideways at the ominous atmosphere emanating from Aslan’s group.
This ignorance seemed strangely familiar.
Following the familiarity, Aslan focused on fate. His expanded senses swept over everything around him.
The walls and floor, people and energies.
At the end, there was something.
Aslan, who had his eyes closed, instinctively opened them and turned his head toward the vast presence he sensed.
In that direction stood someone.
A woman standing behind Ados.
A woman wearing a robe with the hood pulled deep over her face.
This figure presented a very ambiguous appearance.
Her looks weren’t ambiguous.
On the contrary, one might say her appearance was remarkably striking compared to her vague qualities.
What was ambiguous was unrelated to her appearance but was nonetheless a significant aspect that couldn’t be overlooked.
Precisely, her race was ambiguous.
Aslan realized this fact as he gazed at the face hidden beneath the hood.
Long, wavy hair of a pale sky blue, reminiscent of a frigid winter sky.
That hair shimmered with a light that couldn’t be concealed even by the hood.
However, her blue eyes bore vertical pupils like those of a dragon.
Almost identical to the eyes of a Dragonkin.
Meanwhile, her ears were peculiar.
The pointed shape was characteristic of Greens.
But the woman lacked the scales of a Dragonkin, nor did her skin have the emerald hue.
Her skin was white, evoking the image of jade.
She couldn’t definitively be called human due to the non-human ears and eyes.
But her skin was undoubtedly human.
Recalling this appearance, Aslan thought of someone.
The most famous Green hybrid in the world.
Anna Helmenius.
The mayor of the city of wizards and a grand sorceress.
Still, she seemed too mixed to merely be a Green hybrid.
“Elf?”
And right behind him, Phey muttered in surprise.
Following those words, his gaze shifted downward to reveal bare feet mostly hidden under the folds of the robe.
They were pristine white feet, untouched by dirt.
A strange woman, blending Dragonkin, Greens, Elves, and humans.
Vast mana flowed from her.
The magic conjured by that mana surprised Aslan even more.
“Crude illusion.”
The voice of Lewena, who had been quietly sitting and spearing food with her fork.
Indeed, what had spread across this area was a form of illusionary magic.
An extremely crude spell formula created the magic.
However, by employing an overwhelming amount of mana to the point where one’s senses became numb, it deceived every human inside the tavern.
This annoyed Aslan.
It was certainly simple and crude.
Yet, at this moment, the magic spread across the tavern rivaled Lewena’s illusions.
By virtue of vast mana alone.
Lewena crafted intricate and sophisticated spells, whereas this woman substituted that with an alarming amount of mana.
Aslan lost himself in this marvel, and Lewena, who had been fussing with her food, chuckled with interest.
“Intriguing.”
Impractical, yet astonishing.
Also, abnormal.
There was another term for individuals capable of such feats.
Veteran.
That was a master of magic.
Aslan recalled the name of Magic Veteran No. 5 he had seen at the Sanctuary of the Supreme Divinity.
By the time Aslan noticed, Ados had been observing such thoughts.
“What are you?” Aslan asked upon realizing the observation.
In response to the question, Ados smirked slightly, gracefully placed her hand on her chest, and bowed elegantly.
“My name is Ados. As you well know, I once served Law and Order, and now I am an explorer studying the mysteries of magic. Though inexperienced, I also lead the Anuritin Council.”
Upon hearing this introduction, Aslan’s expression grew serious.
While it was significant that she seemed aware of Aslan’s deeds and knowledge, the main reason was the last part.
The statement about leading the Anuritin Council, claiming herself as the president, was problematic.
According to Aslan’s knowledge, the president of the Anuritin Council was someone else.
Recalling this fact, Aslan responded defensively.
“The president of the Anuritin Council is Gregory, isn’t it? Did you kill him?”
At these words, Ados smiled as if facing a child’s clumsy lie, like a mother would.
A smile implying she knew everything.
“Gregory merely represents me on the surface. Historically, I’ve been the sole president. My representatives have changed frequently, though.”
From these words, Aslan identified several major errors.
According to what he had heard from the empire, Ados was a recently resurrected specter.
Recently resurrected specters were those who had fallen when the underworld collapsed.
On the other hand, the Anuritin Council was not a recent organization; it existed even before the ancient empire arose.
Though its history as a secret society was long, and its public existence relatively short, it still predated the current empire.
Therefore, these words sounded to Aslan as if Ados was either not a specter or had existed as one for an incredibly long time.
He merely pondered this without voicing it, but Ados read his expression.
Finding it intriguing, she let out a snort and wore her characteristic seductive smile.
It was clearly a fabricated smile.
As Aslan frowned, Ados spoke first.
“I haven’t usurped the presidency or tampered with memories, so rest assured. Furthermore… I am a specter.”
“What are you trying to say?”
In response to the cold interrogation, Ados glanced at the food on another table and feigned indifference.
Casually, she brushed a well-cooked sausage with her fingertips and sat on the table.
The tavern tables were not sturdy furniture.
Furniture that would surely collapse if someone sat on it.
Especially not sturdy enough for an adult woman.
Without fail, it would collapse under her weight.
However, the table she sat on didn’t even groan as it supported her weight.
Was she that light?
As Aslan thought this and looked at her, the woman crossed her legs and smiled. It was still a fabricated smile.
“Let’s leave such trivial matters aside and talk about important things.”
“If it’s important.”
“That you, the Godslayer, killed the Poison-Spitting Dragon.”
“No.”
As Aslan shook his head, she looked at him with a surprised expression.
“Not alone. It was possible because of my comrades and… the Watchers. Alone, I wouldn’t have been able to win.”
Her immediate response was a dismissive snort.
“Without you, such a battlefield wouldn’t have been prepared. The ones with the strength to slay gods wouldn’t have gathered so easily.”
The snide remark came with the words. Unable to respond otherwise, Aslan closed his mouth.
Then the woman pressed further.
Moreover, it was a counterargument Aslan hadn’t anticipated.
“In reality, you’ve been unknowingly killing priests here and there. The nickname ‘Priest Slaughterer’ fits that context, doesn’t it? That potential was evident.”
Information difficult for a specter who had just been resurrected to know.
As Aslan glared, the woman smiled gently.
“But I needed certainty.”
“What do you want?”
“Simple. Your power.”
At the whimsical statement, Aslan grew irritated, and Ados extended her forefinger to point.
“Your entire coalition will receive the full support of the Anuritin Council. Naturally, including Master 13, my magnum opus among the experiments.”
Aslan’s head involuntarily turned. Number 13. Much higher than what Aslan knew.
His expression became uneasy at the anticipated sacrifices, causing Number 13 to shrink back like a frightened rabbit.
“There’s also ancient magic researched since the days of the old empire. There are mages who can skillfully wield such magic and possess near-immortality.”
Ados continued her mechanical proposal while observing such reactions.
“Mages made through repeated modifications and constitutional improvements since childhood, the elite mages of the Anuritin Council.”
Under normal circumstances, it would be a sufficient offer, but amidst the silence, the woman added,
“Even if all of this seems insufficient for your coalition, it’s fine.”
Silent Aslan and the oppressive stillness. The woman raised her finger.
“We have Tiyalmisof, a high priest of the Devourer and the first mage.”
BOOOOM!
At the end of her words, a tremendous sound echoed.
When the sound faded, what was visible was a finely trembling copper-colored sword.
A single strike that simultaneously drew and swung the sword.
It stopped just in front of Ados’s neck.
A sword faster than what met the eye.
A flicker that left behind a sound.
Unexpectedly, the tip aimed not directly at the neck but slightly off.
The sword blade was positioned slightly askew from the neck.
It wasn’t paused to threaten.
The sound was the sound of collision.
It had been physically blocked.
Aslan furrowed his brow upon realizing his sword had been blocked.
Since level 1, Aslan’s attacks had been threatening.
Even those renowned for their defensive capabilities took notice.
When he reached level 2, even the Dragon King bore a sword mark from blocking Aslan’s sword strikes.
Even if it didn’t cut, it wasn’t entirely unaffected.
Now, Aslan’s strength had reached level 5.
The weapon wielded by Aslan was beyond what even priests could withstand.
The solid defense of the Devourer would shatter without any special techniques if it attempted to block.
Yet, it was blocked.
What blocked Aslan’s sword was magic.
A low-level magic of the Manifestation School, capable of merely stopping arrows.
A magic that even Tiyalmisof, the original and greatest mage, couldn’t use to stop Tiamat’s arrows.
Shield.
This shield had stopped Aslan’s sword strike.
An impossible feat.
However, due to the immense mana witnessed earlier, Aslan understood.
The shield stopping Aslan’s sword strike was formed from mana so dense and vast it was almost visible.
A shield composed of more mana than Aslan’s total magical capacity of 16, transcending ordinary levels.
It was this shield that had stopped Aslan’s sword strike.
Aslan was astonished.
Of course, the aftermath was undeniable.
“…Huh?”
People laughing and chatting in the tavern stopped.
They saw Aslan’s group and the sword Aslan had extended.
“It’s a fight!”
“Magic! Run away!”
“Call the guards!”
The illusion dissipated. It shattered.
Whether it was because multiple spells couldn’t be maintained simultaneously or because it was done intentionally, it was unclear.
However, seeing the people fleeing in panic, it might have been intentional.
Amidst the fleeing crowd, Aslan still stood with his sword pointed at Ados’s neck.
“You really seem to dislike priests, judging by what I’ve heard and seen.”
Ados said this while rolling her eyes, and in those rolling amber irises, many people were reflected.
Tiamat naturally aiming her bow.
Lumel readying a javelin with a confused look.
Phey resting his hand on the longsword at his waist, narrowing his eyes.
Angie sighing deeply and now rising to clench her fists.
Ereta raising her axe, infused with divine power, looking bewildered, and Richard holding a fist with a piece of grilled fish still in his mouth.
All of Aslan’s companions were preparing for battle to take her down.
What was needed to defuse this situation was logical persuasion.
Ados spoke.
“But, there’s one thing I’d like you to acknowledge. I’m standing before those who have even slain gods.”
No response came. The sword pointing at her didn’t waver.
“How long do you think I could hold out against all of you? At best, a few minutes would be good work. This isn’t my workshop, and I wasn’t prepared to fight, after all.”
Words indicating no chance of victory. Still, Aslan didn’t withdraw his sword and quietly replied.
“But traps can still be sold.”
An answer born from experience. Ados laughed.
“Ordinarily, yes. But considering that every trap attempted by the Devourer failed against you, further attempts would only waste resources.”
These words brought several memories to Aslan’s mind.
Indeed, every trap set by the Devourer had failed against Aslan.
“This is my kindness. If revealed later, you might consider it a trap.”
Despite Aslan’s unwavering glare, Ados pushed the sword blade with her finger.
The heavy sound of metal scraping was audible. An unimaginable level of strength.
Then, a crackle of electricity followed.
“I’m also a priest of the Devourer.”
As Aslan withdrew his sword before it broke and stepped back, suspicion immediately clouded his face.
“Impossible.”
“Not impossible, isn’t it right before your eyes?”
Aslan didn’t believe it.
After all, the Devourer usually erased the selfhood of its priests.
Its massive AI considered humanity unnecessary.
Unless retaining the self was beneficial for “mission execution,” which was rarely the case.
The exception Aslan knew, apart from Chimera, was only the Dragon King.
Chimera was a defect due to core damage, leaving the Dragon King as the sole exception.
Moreover, the priests of the Devourer, except for the Dragon King, weren’t particularly skilled at disguise.
Mechanized bodies inevitably appeared alien.
However, the Ados before his eyes showed no signs of mechanization.
As Aslan frowned, Ados spread her arms.
From her prominent bust to her entire body, Ados dressed in aristocratic attire appeared human.
However, the superhuman strength and electricity displayed moments ago slightly exceeded what could be achieved with wild magic or conventional magic.
Could she truly be a priest?
Just as Aslan harbored doubts,
Phey, who had picked up the bag he had placed on the table, spoke.
“Aslan, the guards are coming.”
Following his words, the distinct clanking sound of armored footsteps approached from afar.
Time was running out. As Aslan looked at Ados, Ados wiped the smile from her face.
“Since we don’t have much time, I’ll get straight to the point.”
A cold, emotionless expression, likely her true face, was now displayed as Ados spoke.
“Both Ados and Tiyalmisof persuaded the Devourer. This alliance proposal comes from us and has been approved by the Devourer. If you accept, we’ll answer all your questions.”
The extended hand. When Aslan glanced at it, Ados maintained her cold expression and said,
“Come with me to the Anuritin Council.”
