Time passed.
The evil ghost died, and the Supreme Divinity died.
It had been about two days since they gathered the specter that was originally meant to die but couldn’t.
The injuries sustained by the traveling party could be healed by Ereta’s remarkable divine power, but there was nothing to be done about the mental and physical fatigue gained from battle.
Thus, the traveling party was at the Anuurtin Council.
To rest and replenish what they had used.
And at the council, Aslan was with a dispirited woman.
“13th Unit, no help. 13th Unit useless….”
The voice of the woman berating herself.
Aslan wanted to tell her otherwise at those words but couldn’t say them.
Because even Aslan felt regret in the 13th Unit’s abilities.
Moreover, even if Aslan consoled her and ignored that regret, it wouldn’t have worked.
The 13th Unit may use simple language like a child, but she wasn’t one.
Possessing an awareness akin to an adult, any hasty comfort would surely not reach her.
It would be meaningless and possibly counterproductive; thus, Aslan remained silent.
Indeed, the 13th Unit hadn’t been much help on that battlefield.
In a field with martial artists, high-ranking priests, and evil ghosts, the 13th Unit’s magical prowess had certainly been useful.
The magic constructed by the 13th Unit through incantations and simple mana manipulation could burn and crush enemies without fail.
Its effects were undeniable.
Certainly, the effects were undeniable, but it left something to be desired.
Despite possessing vast mana surpassing Aslan who had reached level 20, and having instantaneous output that overwhelmed Aslan, her magical power was inferior to his.
None of the spells cast by the 13th Unit matched the might worthy of the title “Grand Mage.”
No matter how much the 13th Unit was favored by magic, there was a clear difference between someone who properly learned magic and someone who didn’t.
She neither possessed wild magic nor had she ever properly studied it.
Therefore, it was only natural to imagine the potential power of the 13th Unit once she received proper training in magic, leaving one feeling regretful for the missed opportunity.
Thus, teaching magic was inevitable.
Aslan realized this while fighting the Supreme Divinity.
That overwhelming void, which though aimed at Aslan’s domain, completed its form in a different direction from him.
Defeated by that, Aslan became certain.
The Dark Ram still existed.
And if it wished, it would surely interfere.
If the same level of adversity experienced during the fight against the Supreme Divinity were to return, there was a possibility of defeat with their current strength.
Aslan couldn’t ignore the possibility of such a defeat.
Because if Aslan were to lose, the pain would repeat itself.
What was needed was clear.
A force capable of saving the world and the appropriate preparation for it.
It was only natural that Aslan sought to teach magic to the 13th Unit and approached Tiyalmisof.
“Magic, you say?”
Tiyalmisof asked in return.
Aslan nodded, and Tiyalmisof placed a hand over the metallic face devoid of any visible features.
Tiyalmisof, chin in hand, repeated the words in a feminine voice that seemed out of place, as if speaking more to herself than to Aslan.
“I understand that. I too felt the lack of power from the 13th Unit, but… why not let me teach instead of going through someone else?”
Tiyalmisof questioned, seemingly unable to comprehend.
“I think I can teach better than some mere ‘Great Mage’ who has merely mastered the magic I created,” she said calmly yet ambiguously.
Aslan shook his head.
“Not just some mere Great Mage.”
Silence followed, and Tiyalmisof looked at Aslan.
Surely Tiyalmisof found the reason incomprehensible, so Aslan patiently explained, reversing their usual roles where he usually gave explanations.
Tiyalmisof tapped the table impatiently with mechanical fingers.
“Anna Helmenius is a wizard who has made several Grand Mages and is also the teacher to all wizards residing in the city of wizards. Though her magical skills may fall short of yours, she might be superior when it comes to teaching.”
Aslan frowned, and the tapping ceased, but Tiyalmisof still seemed dissatisfied, or at least so it was judged from her expressionless demeanor.
“You may not know this, but I am the magic tutor to the emperors of the ancient empire and laid the foundation of the empire’s magic…”
“I know. I know that.”
Aslan interrupted, and Tiyalmisof, appearing disgruntled, tapped the table again but quieted down upon hearing Aslan’s next words.
“Of course, I know that you’ve taught emperors and laid the foundation of magic. But the ones you’ve taught generally had considerable talent. They weren’t people lacking in magical knowledge.”
Magical knowledge.
Certainly, the 13th Unit was a woman overflowing with magical talent, favored by magic.
But if asked whether the 13th Unit was rich in magical knowledge, one couldn’t confidently answer yes.
Could she truly grasp everything based solely on explanations tailored to Tiyalmisof’s talent when learning magic?
Aslan believed not.
“Besides, considering the developments in magic since your time… there are things that even a mere Great Mage can teach. And there are things that the original and greatest mage cannot.”
With that addition, Tiyalmisof, who had harbored complaints, seemed embarrassed and cleared her throat.
And Tiyalmisof understood.
No matter what objections or protests she might make, she couldn’t go against the will of Aslan, the Lord of the Abyss.
If ordered, she would literally have to do anything.
Thus, Tiyalmisof tried to accept despite not fully understanding, and silence flowed.
“How is Phey doing?”
Suddenly, Aslan spoke, causing Tiyalmisof to narrow the aperture of her red mechanical eyes.
“There’s nothing unusual. Would you like to meet her?”
Aslan was soon guided somewhere.
A sterilized corridor reminiscent of a typical hospital.
Walking beyond that corridor led to a room that resembled more of a bedroom than a hospital room.
[Phey]
[Level: 8]
[Remaining Stats: 3]
[Strength 2] [Agility 20] [Health 7]
[Mana 1] [Willpower 2] [Luck 5]
The window that appeared before Aslan’s eyes.
Aslan memorized the system window as he entered the room.
Inside the room was Phey.
Phey, with hair tied on both sides like blood, wore a dress far too short for her body.
Her long legs stretched out lazily on the bed beneath the descending lighting, and her skin was flawlessly clean under the light.
Looking up from those legs would reveal things that shouldn’t be seen, so Aslan averted his eyes and subtly redirected his gaze back to her face.
It was a cold face.
Eyes that exuded indifference, something previously unnoticed.
The uniquely emotionless eyes of someone who had no interest or expectations for humanity in general.
Yet, her faintly warm indigo eyes quietly faced a blade.
Phey’s physical form was un-elf-like.
With that un-elf-like body, Phey quietly touched a sword.
Even though she must have noticed with her sensitive senses, she intentionally raised her head slowly and smiled gently.
It was undoubtedly a welcoming smile. Aslan stepped further into the room and closed the door.
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
Phey smiled as she answered.
Though she was smiling, it carried an ominous aura.
Aslan involuntarily hesitated at that chill, and Phey chuckled teasingly.
“Phey was taming the sword.”
Her tone was the same as before, and her voice showed no difference.
However, the difference emanating from her body was evident.
Each movement was the same as before, but there was a noticeable change due to the transformation of her body.
A more seductive appearance.
As Phey lightly held and swung the sword, the blade left faint afterimages.
Aslan naturally avoided looking at Phey’s body and focused on the sword instead.
The sword was a weapon left behind by the Supreme Divinity and the Supreme Divinity’s holy sword.
It should not have existed within this Geladridion.
The blade was made of a dark metallic substance resembling flowing cosmos, and the crossguard integrated with the blade was unlike the hilt.
The hilt, though plain, was a masterpiece showing the craftsman’s touch.
At first glance, it appeared to be a simple dark-colored sword, but its most distinctive feature lay in the metal forming the blade and crossguard.
The metal of the blade and crossguard was dotted with stars and galaxies of the universe.
Every time Phey moved her hand, it looked as if the universe itself was trembling.
Aslan stared at the holy sword in a trance for quite a while before lowering his head.
“So, how is it?”
The swaying blade stopped. Phey whispered softly.
“I’m getting used to it.”
Aslan’s question wasn’t limited to the sword alone.
Phey understood that fact.
Amidst the deliberately laid silence, Aslan’s eyes inadvertently swept over Phey’s body.
Specifically, the changes in her body.
Phey’s body had changed.
Phey consumed the poison of the Poison-Spitting Dragon and transcended the limits of elves.
Even though it was only part of the Supreme Divinity, it surpassed the level of an evil deity.
The first-ranked swordsman of an unnamed empire lost his life as the price for that power, but Phey, being an elf, did not perish.
The innate regenerative ability of elves wouldn’t let her die.
The poison of a dead god couldn’t overcome the power of a creator god, and the imbalance in stats caused by Phey exceeding her limits had already been restored.
This was the aftermath.
Aslan was concerned about this point.
First-rate archers spend their entire lives mastering their bodies.
Thus, losing an arm often leads to a loss of skill and weakening.
Whereas Phey had undergone a complete bodily transformation, so normally, one would expect significant alienation even in daily life, let alone combat.
Moreover, the influence of the poison might still linger, so Aslan entrusted Phey to Tiyalmisof for a detailed examination.
“It seems unnecessary now, but…”
Phey showed no abnormalities in all the examinations.
As if proving that, Phey spun the divine sword with just her fingers and wrist before firmly grasping it.
When the captured sword stopped without a single tremor, Aslan thought.
Phey had already adapted to her new body and the sword.
The only issue was that Aslan hadn’t adapted to Phey’s transformation.
“…So, why are you standing there, Aslan? Won’t you sit beside Phey?”
Phey stopped spinning the sword and turned her indigo eyes toward Aslan.
Facing the seemingly emotionless indigo eyes, Aslan felt unfamiliar.
An awkward distance.
It was difficult to approach Phey as he had before because her physical form was no longer the same.
Yet, treating her differently went against the way he had always interacted with her.
Hesitating without knowing what to do, Aslan paused, and Phey silently observed him.
Phey’s outward appearance was clearly not much different from before.
However, the change in impression and body significantly altered the atmosphere.
Previously, a sense of innocent naivety suited her well, but now, a cold impassiveness suited her better.
Though she wore the same dress that barely covered her buttocks and had her hair tied on both sides,
Phey definitely radiated a different aura.
Aslan found this aura strange.
Aslan, stuck in indecision, and Phey, who silently watched him, were enveloped in silence.
Within that silence, Phey stealthily extended her foot.
The direction of her toes pointed toward Aslan’s thigh. Her long legs easily reached Aslan.
Though startled by the sensation, Aslan’s foot didn’t stop.
Her big toe pressed against his thigh through his pants.
The sensation of pressing against the flesh.
Even though it was just a press from a toe, without anything unusual,
Aslan vividly felt the sensation.
While Phey’s ankle flexibly turned,
her movements were slow and relaxed.
Yet the sensation was sharp.
Gradually, her toes moved upward, from the thigh, slowly ascending.
Startled, Aslan stepped back, and Phey smiled faintly as she slowly lowered her extended leg.
The long leg gleamed palely under the lighting, drawing his gaze unintentionally.
Phey grinned widely, and Aslan shut his eyes tightly, reproaching himself.
“Hmm? You came to visit Phey and will just stand there and leave? Sit down. Relax!”
When Aslan opened his eyes, Phey crossed her legs and smiled innocently.
Though the smile seemed unchanged from before, Aslan found it seductive.
“Phey doesn’t feel lust for Aslan, right? That’s correct?”
Phey directed that smile at Aslan and bluntly verbalized the feelings Aslan had always harbored toward her.
“Phey trusts Aslan.”
Phey was clearly accustomed to her new body.
A first-rate archer spends a lifetime learning to use their body, so Aslan tried not to pay attention to Phey’s actions.
Unfortunately, Aslan’s efforts were futile.
