After the Supreme Divinity’s Sword was lost.
The power of the Supreme Divinity had greatly diminished.
The Supreme Divinity’s Sanctuary Fortress had fallen.
Originally, the monks of the Supreme Divinity, who were untouchable in the northern continent, now wandered without a place to rest and had to hide.
Since the northern continent actively sought to exterminate these monks, their numbers never increased.
Similarly, there was no High Priest to lead the forces of the Supreme Divinity.
Or rather, it seemed as though none were being created.
Though this wasn’t entirely true.
All the loss and suffering was by the Supreme Divinity’s design.
The Supreme Divinity intentionally did not create a new sanctuary.
Likewise, it deliberately refrained from creating new monks.
Offerings ceased under the Supreme Divinity’s will, and divine power was not consumed.
All these outcomes were exactly as the Supreme Divinity had foreseen.
Everything followed the Supreme Divinity’s plan.
Plan.
An expression unbecoming of an evil deity, but indeed it was so.
The stronger an evil deity, the less rational or intelligent they are.
Rationality and intelligence cannot coexist with such overwhelming power.
Such immense strength does not require intellect to understand itself.
On the other hand, the Supreme Divinity was different.
The Supreme Divinity was undoubtedly powerful; destroying the world alone would be effortless.
But only compared to other evil deities.
The Supreme Divinity was weaker compared to other gods.
Thus, it was the only evil deity that could balance power and intelligence.
It was the only evil deity capable of possessing both human cunning and divine might.
Especially now, when all inevitabilities of the universe had collapsed.
The plan devised by the Supreme Divinity through reason and guile was, in fact, quite simple.
As many humans often do, it endured.
Wishing, hoping, and desiring what it longed for above all else.
Like a human, it prepared to sacrifice much, burning itself for ambition or desire.
The Supreme Divinity gambled everything on this one opportunity.
Among its stakes was divine power.
From the very bottom to the top of the tower, an empty wind blew through the scattered steps.
The cocoons hanging from intact staircases trembled faintly in the breeze.
Countless cocoons. They were far too large to contain mere insects.
Though their insides were unclear, the translucent cocoons rested amidst resonant wails, where within dreams, each developed unparalleled martial skills.
Skills so refined, even deities would covet them.
Naturally, divine power accompanied such martial prowess.
The Supreme Divinity gazed approvingly at these creations.
Despite having lost much divine power.
Tear!
Suddenly, one cocoon split open.
It was the first cocoon to fall into slumber.
One could confidently say it brimmed with refreshing divine power.
Within lay a high priest.
Considering that creating a high priest usually required divine power accumulated over a long time, this divine energy was astonishingly fresh.
Typically, high priests are forged from divine power squeezed and stacked under the weight of powerful evil deities.
That’s why they are rare. Creating a transcendent existence like a high priest requires extensive time.
But it wasn’t always necessary.
This splitting cocoon was proof.
Inside it lay the mark of an evil deity exerting its power to craft a transcendent being.
Such divine power existed.
A reckless method that ignored the typical process of creating a high priest.
A method possible only for the Supreme Divinity, which had always watched over Aslan.
Tear, tear-t-tear!
The split cocoon. Something fell from within.
Thud. The creature touched the ground, completing its transformation, standing firmly.
It was a being with a rough bark-like carapace.
Standing on two legs, arms dangling.
As it slowly rose, raising its head, it stood.
This was the Supreme Divinity’s answer to ultimate martial arts.
And this answer came directly from Aslan.
High above, the Supreme Divinity looked down upon the transcendent being standing alone amidst the howling winds.
Its gaze sparkled with intrigue.
The Supreme Divinity reminisced about the recent past reflected in those eyes.
Until now, it had watched Aslan.
It had witnessed Aslan’s battles, Aslan’s suffering.
Aslan defeated the invincible Dragon King.
Aslan killed the most powerful warrior the Supreme Divinity ever commanded, the myth-killer.
Even a tyrant fully prepared to face Aslan fell.
And even the herald of a god who bent the laws of the universe retreated before Aslan.
The Supreme Divinity marveled at and revered this miraculous martial prowess.
So it imitated.
Even if imitation meant carving out its own flesh.
The Supreme Divinity possessed the strength and will to do so.
What remained was action.
The newly born Supreme Divinity’s Sword.
It was created based on the same principle as when a fire spider sacrificed itself to save its daughter by descending upon Geladridion, or when a poison-spitting dragon extended its neck into Geladridion to nourish its body.
Though it may diminish and weaken,
The Supreme Divinity poured its power into Geladridion.
Intentionally infusing it, the Supreme Divinity exercised enough power within Geladridion to create high priests multiple times.
The man with a tree-like carapace stood tall with this power and began to walk.
He walked among countless cocoons. Among them, deep within the tower, lay a sword.
A solitary sword placed reverently.
A sword resembling burnt wood, made from a bark-like carapace, gray in color.
When the Supreme Divinity’s Sword grasped the sword, it truly became a holy blade.
It was proof of divinity, just like Aslan’s holy blade.
Moreover, it was the Supreme Divinity’s definitive answer to martial arts.
Beside the holy blade, the blacksmith who forged it looked at the Supreme Divinity’s Sword with a troubled gaze.
The carapace-covered Supreme Divinity’s Sword turned its head toward the blacksmith as if sensing the gaze, and the blacksmith reluctantly extended a worn greatsword.
A single-edged sword, wrapped in leather beneath its blade.
The evil ghost reached out with its tree-like carapace hand and took hold of the sword.
The scene was clear.
If humanity’s ability lies in finding answers, then the Supreme Divinity was a human-like deity.
It gambled on destruction.
Tear, tear-tear-tear-tear!
Countless cocoons split open, and numerous forms fell from within.
*
Goosebumps ran across the skin.
A chilling sensation colder than coolness swept along the spine, scratching the skin as if clawing at it, causing the muscles clinging to the bones to tremble faintly.
Aslan couldn’t resist this sharp sensation and shivered, prompting 13 to blink while sitting together drinking tea.
Blue eyes with vertical pupils filled with worry as they focused on Aslan.
“Aslan, pain?”
Aslan didn’t respond, quietly sweating cold beads of sweat on their forehead.
Seeing this, 13 stopped drinking tea mid-sip and covered their mouth with the other hand.
Concern leaked out in various ways, even without words.
Expressions, eyes, and the trembling pointed ears.
“Aslan, are you well? Your complexion is bad.”
With an anxious expression, 13 asked, but Aslan couldn’t reply.
They tried several times to speak, but the words crumbled like sandcastles before forming.
A tidal wave of anxiety swept over them, carrying away language.
13 showed a reaction as if they were about to cry at Aslan’s response.
Aslan naturally thought they should comfort them but couldn’t.
Rather, they couldn’t because of the ominous feeling that had crept up their spine earlier.
The lingering chill still flowed along their spine, tickling the nape of their neck.
A sensation akin to death whispering close to the back of the neck.
Aslan was all too familiar with this vivid unease.
Rubbing the back of their neck unconsciously, they found it damp with cold sweat.
Aslan was familiar with the chill that arose from where the sweat evaporated.
A sensation like a sudden cold.
It was the same sensation felt when the Dragon King first revealed its true nature.
It was also the same sensation experienced when the Supreme Divinity’s Sword burned its divine power for a final attack.
And it was the same when meeting Ash.
Thus, Aslan couldn’t casually say they were fine.
They merely understood something was happening.
‘Evil ghost.’
With firm thoughts and actions, Aslan stood up, causing 13 to shrink back while observing their behavior.
Wondering if Aslan disliked their company, but there was no time for clarification.
Aslan still felt that ominous sensation.
What it symbolized was clear.
Whether the evil ghost had completed its preparations, set a trap, or was launching an attack now.
Some action that would significantly harm Aslan.
Unable to suppress their growing anxiety, 13 spoke.
“13’s anxiety escalating. Aslan, please respond.”
Their voice carried concern.
Aslan reached out and tapped 13’s head lightly, prompting a look of surprise on their face.
Confused, 13 blinked and turned their head at the sound of creaking.
“Aslan!”
Footsteps mixed with clattering sounds caused 13 to flinch.
Frightened 13 and Tiyalmisof entering the room met eyes briefly, but Tiyalmisof redirected her gaze to Aslan.
Her mechanical eye rolling towards Aslan signaled to 13 that something was wrong.
Under normal circumstances, Tiyalmisof would try to comfort them, but now she didn’t react at all.
And as expected, Tiyalmisof spoke seriously.
“The evil ghost has appeared.”
An unexpected statement, yet anticipated.
Aslan stayed silent, knowing what would come next, and Tiyalmisof nodded understanding their expression.
“The evil ghost is in the ruins of the old Pervere Kingdom, at Beli Fortress.”
Beli Fortress—a familiar location.
A fortress abandoned and completely ruined since the Veil of Benevolence descended.
Also the first fortress engulfed by the Veil of Benevolence due to its proximity to the sea.
Recalling this, Tiyalmisof added:
“There, the evil ghost is luring you.”
Lure. Aslan looked at Tiyalmisof, who continued.
“It’s sprinkling divine power and lingering as if beckoning you to come.”
Tiyalmisof paused here, but her intent was clear.
It was undoubtedly a trap.
“What will you do?”
Tiyalmisof asked, and Aslan thought.
Aslan and the evil ghost were of the same kind.
The evil ghost’s preparation was predictably a trap.
A trap so obvious it would be hard to fall into.
There must be another purpose behind the lure.
Normally, one wouldn’t indulge in such traps and lures.
‘The kid is like me.’
Aslan only set obvious traps when they ensured the situation where falling into them was unavoidable.
The best way to deal with such traps was direct confrontation.
Every detour held an even harsher punishment if caught.
Thus, Aslan replied resolutely and firmly.
“We have to go.”
Tiyalmisof hesitated, surprised by the answer, but soon nodded.
She withdrew without asking for reasons, and Aslan absentmindedly rubbed their tingling nape.
Cold sweat still seeped from their neck.
Likewise, fate still prickled their spine.
