At the spot where Bijou’s remains had collapsed, Angie stood there with a dazed expression.
Her body, which had been in tatters, quickly recovered due to an overflow of health, and even the fatigue that had lingered around her disappeared.
There was little difference between her condition now and before the fight.
The mental fatigue and fear vanished the moment Bijou died.
More precisely, it began when Bijou started behaving strangely.
On the other hand, what about Bijou?
Bijou crawled out, battered from Angie’s attack.
Then Bijou questioned Angie, received her response, and chose death.
As Angie knew nothing of the circumstances behind this decision, Bijou’s demise seemed very sudden.
However, as Angie watched the armor that had barely held together collapse, she couldn’t help but feel that this death somehow involved her.
She was certain that her words were what caused Bijou’s death.
In the concealed history of the Empire, Bijou’s name hardly remained, so Angie had no idea why Bijou had become like this.
Angie also didn’t know which of her words led Bijou to choose death.
But it soon became clear that it stemmed from good intentions.
The collapsed black dust.
Something shot out from within it.
Too fast for Angie, who hadn’t been on guard, to react.
Though Angie reflexively raised her arm, the thing that leapt out wound itself mockingly around her exposed arm.
The remnants of the Warrior God’s armor revealed the thin cloth beneath.
Whatever it was burrowed through and moved along Angie’s body.
“Shit, what the hell is this nonsense all of a sudden!”
It was something ominous, akin to an attack.
Angie tried to grab it and pull it out from inside her clothes, but whatever it was, dyed black, had already begun seeping into her body.
It was strange.
Considering the blessings of the hero and her health exceeding 30, most attacks wouldn’t even pierce her skin.
Yet, whatever came out of Bijou’s dust was effortlessly seeping into her body.
That implied two things:
It was either not hostile or wasn’t an attack.
Unaware of this, Angie struggled, but when the wriggling thing emerged from her body and withered away, she hesitated.
Silence followed.
The dried-up black something resembled the black crystal originating from the Dark Ram but posed no threat to Angie.
So, what did it do?
With a curious expression, Angie slightly lifted her shirt, twisted her waist, and looked behind her.
Toward the warmth flowing down her back.
Where the warmth faded, a tattoo was etched onto Angie’s back.
Not flashy, but rather plain, yet composed of countless straight and curved lines.
Angie had seen something like it on Ereta’s spine.
It was a mana tattoo.
The name of the tattoo was Bijou’s Valor.
The only gift Bijou left for distant descendants.
Angie blinked at the answer provided by her transcendent intuition.
The sensation of intuition delivering the correct answer was unfamiliar.
Without thinking, Angie touched her spine, tracing the tattoo that existed without any tactile sensation on her fingertips, with a disgruntled look.
“Angie!”
At that moment, a voice suddenly called out.
A voice so familiar, one Angie had just been thinking about moments ago.
Turning her head, she saw Aslan descending with the Abyss Sword stretched like a rope.
“Are you okay?!”
Aslan rushed to her side the moment he landed, his concern vividly clear.
For some reason feeling detached, Angie couldn’t respond appropriately, and Aslan misinterpreted her demeanor.
“Where are you hurt? The enemy…?”
“Eh, I’m fine. Well, I was injured, but…”
Angie stumbled over her words, delighted by the situation where Aslan was genuinely worried about her.
Aslan massaged Angie’s arm and wiped the blood off her body with utmost care, reacting in a way that seemed excessive.
As if Angie had almost died.
Only then did Angie regain a sense of reality.
‘Ah, right. I almost died.’
Indeed, Angie couldn’t predict how the battle would have turned out. She wasn’t particularly skilled at guessing the outcome of fights anyway.
The enemy was formidable.
Possessing strength enough to crumble mountains, superior to Angie.
In terms of skill, there was an insurmountable gap compared to Angie.
Moreover, starting the battle under what amounted to a surprise attack, Angie’s chances of winning were unlikely to exceed fifty percent.
‘And yet, I won.’
Angie defeated such a powerful foe.
Clearly having fallen, the enemy somehow managed to crawl back up briefly, but after Angie gave a single response, it disappeared.
Wounds and fatigue healed through regeneration.
She learned how to wield divine power.
And now, the mana tattoo.
Angie glanced at her spine again and wore an enigmatic expression.
‘But how did Bijou manage to give me the tattoo of valor? Aslan said no one besides him knows about this tattoo…’
Angie didn’t even realize the enemy was Bijou.
She was unaware that her opponent was a powerhouse spanning ancient and modern times.
Thus, she didn’t know the origin of the tattoo and merely felt it appeared out of nowhere.
Only Aslan, who was examining Angie’s body, realized.
“…This.”
Aslan paused while meticulously inspecting Angie’s body, and Angie tilted her head curiously as her face reddened subtly under Aslan’s touch.
“Why?”
Aslan, a grand mage with 20 mana points—arguably the best human mage—knew immediately.
This tattoo was distinctly different from the Bijou’s Valor he had inscribed on Ereta.
A tattoo that fully converted internal mana into pure strength and transformed muscular power itself into defensive ability.
Efficient to a startling degree, innovative enough to make even Aslan gasp.
Especially unique was its ability to convert strength into defense.
It was a different kind of defense than natural resistance from high health or the protection granted by the hero’s blessing.
A defense capable of blocking various elemental and mental damages alike.
Almost akin to divine power.
Aslan realized this was a reinterpreted version of divinity within the tattoo.
The transformation of Ereta’s Bijou’s Valor into something mixed with her divinity wasn’t coincidental either.
Which meant the tattoo now imprinted on Angie’s body was the origin of the one Aslan had given to Ereta—an uncorrupted original.
A tattoo even Aslan himself could never create.
Therefore, despite the unclear circumstances, Aslan reassessed Bijou’s former capabilities.
Looking at the scattered dust and fragments of black crystals, it was evident Angie shouldn’t have been able to win.
But Angie did win.
‘How did she win? Even I couldn’t guarantee victory at this level…’
Aslan’s gaze returned to Angie, whose cheeks were flushed red as she scratched them.
“Keep staring like that and it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh, sorry.”
Regardless, Angie had triumphed.
Aslan glanced at the system window lingering in the corner of his vision.
[Completed Main Quest]
[Defeated the High Priest of the Herd, Fearless Bijou]
[LEVEL UP]
Bijou was undoubtedly dead.
Given the system’s non-interference with the Dark Ram, there was no room for doubt.
Moreover, considering how killing an Evil Deity usually only raised her level by two, Bijou was certainly a worthy adversary, though perhaps not quite as strong.
‘Alone against Bijou…’
Angie had felled such a formidable foe alone.
Despite Aslan’s worry and firm belief that Angie would die, leading him to rush here.
‘Was I unable to trust her enough?’
Aslan reproached himself over Angie’s victory.
From doubting whether she could win to possibly stifling her potential with excessive concern, to even crushing Angie’s possibilities altogether.
Suddenly, Aslan recognized this habit of his—a trait he couldn’t seem to fix.
Perhaps because he spent more time fighting on his own during crucial moments.
Or maybe it was innate.
Aslan rarely considered anything beyond his own strength, often leading to reckless solo actions.
‘I need to change that.’
He needed to trust the group more.
Especially since he had assigned roles within the traveling party.
It was ridiculous to set tasks and then fail to trust in their execution, so Aslan sighed.
Angie looked at Aslan with a puzzled expression, noticing his troubled face.
“I’m relieved to see you’re alright.”
A confession equivalent to admitting his worry.
Angie smiled happily at his concern.
“As long as you’re watching, I can’t lose.”
“Still, don’t push yourself. I was really worried. If the fight seems tough, you can always ask someone else….”
“Is Aslan saying that?”
Angie giggled teasingly.
Indeed, Aslan was the one who usually pushed himself recklessly, leaving him speechless and displaying a troubled expression.
Embarrassed and unable to respond, Aslan released Angie’s hand, and Angie quietly looked down at her hand that Aslan had let go of.
‘I wish he’d held it a bit longer.’
Putting aside her regret, Angie looked at Aslan heading toward the Abyss Rope.
“Let’s go back. We need to report to the Empire that it’s been dealt with.”
Judging from his words, Aslan must have contacted the Empire while searching for Angie.
Looks like she unintentionally caused him worry. Angie sighed wryly and stepped forward to follow Aslan when—
“AH!”
Her exclamation carried no pain, more like recalling something forgotten.
But it was enough to make Aslan turn around, meeting Angie’s eyes.
His gaze was filled with curiosity.
“What’s wrong?”
Seeing that curious glance tinged with subtle worry, Angie hesitated.
It was difficult to confess her fleeting thought of wanting to ride on Aslan’s back once and how cozy it might feel to cling to him.
She needed a better excuse.
Angie’s face subtly reddened, then decided there was no point in hesitating since they’d already shared intimate moments.
Still, fabricating a lie wasn’t out of caution.
Purely because it felt embarrassing to say outright.
“My legs… They got broken a lot during the fight with this guy. Really bad.”
Aslan continued to look at her curiously, and Angie blushed further under his gaze.
“So… my legs hurt too much to walk…”
Understanding dawned on Aslan’s face, and Angie, embarrassed even by that understanding, bowed her now bright red face deeply.
“Can you carry me?”
Aslan chuckled.
Angie felt humiliated but froze as Aslan approached.
“Alright, I’ll carry you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
After enduring such a tough battle, indulging in a bit of childish behavior was understandable.
Besides, it was possible Angie was actually injured.
The size of this cave, created as a result of the battle with Bijou, clearly indicated Angie had been through an intense fight.
Perhaps she was experiencing psychological pain.
So Aslan turned around to pick her up and let out a small sigh.
“Ah, but carrying you might be a bit tricky because of the cloak.”
Before disappointment could register on Angie’s face, Aslan added,
“How about I hold you instead?”
“Wh-what?”
Without waiting for her consent, Aslan scooped her up.
Pressing her snugly against his chest in a satisfying manner.
Blushing furiously, Angie stared up at Aslan, wide-eyed with surprise.
“This feels really embarrassing.”
“Does it? Then…”
“No! Keep holding me. It’s embarrassing, but it feels amazing, so…”
Her satisfied smile amidst the embarrassment.
Amused by Angie’s expression, Aslan grabbed the Abyss Rope he had previously set down.
Angie, fearing she might fall, wrapped her arms around Aslan’s neck, pressed herself closer, and took a deep breath.
Soon, a profound sense of happiness enveloped Angie’s face.
