The Supreme Divinity charges forward.
In the direction of the charge, Aslan and Number 13 were present.
A woman still floating in the air weaving magic and a man covered in scales wielding a sword.
Toward these two, a warrior burning with uncontrollable rage approached.
The entirety of his body was dyed in a black universe, writhing, evoking the Supreme Divinity’s sensory organs. From his back, tentacles sprouted.
They resembled spider legs, painted in a cosmic hue, blazing darkly.
The difference lay in the weapons that hung like fruit at their ends.
Six spider legs each terminated in a weapon: a spear, a mace, a bow, a dagger, a staff, and a sword.
Various weapons lunged simultaneously, targeting Aslan. Despite the space bending, the Supreme Divinity did not stop.
Rather, it charged faster, narrowing the distance with every step.
With each step, great clouds of dust erupted, and immense strength propelled its body forward.
A shockwave arose as it roared, seeming to shatter the bent space.
Clearly, there was no enchanted blade in its hands, but even without one, nothing changed.
He is Aslan.
The one who consumed the Supreme Divinity and became it, the master of all weapons.
There was no chance of victory.
It wasn’t scarce; it simply didn’t exist.
At least, that’s what the captain thought after being flung away by the greatsword.
The reasoning was clear.
First, the supremacy between the Supreme Divinity Aslan and the last captain was almost nonexistent.
The Supreme Divinity possessed sheer brute power and divine might, having fully absorbed them into an overwhelming force.
This power was so potent that even Aslan, swallowed by the abyss, could not overcome it.
His body was effectively indestructible, rock-solid, and his skills truly infinite.
Limitless and yet skillfully wielded.
Using countless means freely, it dismembers enemies.
That was the Supreme Divinity Aslan.
What about Aslan?
He possessed divinity, wielded a deity’s weapon, and had slain gods before.
But that was all.
Facing a transcendent being equal to himself left a flaw.
Victory was impossible.
Defeat was unmistakable.
The captain felt regret while watching his body fly far away as the greatsword returned to the Supreme Divinity, rising again.
How long Aslan could endure was unknown.
The captain believed it would be merely a few seconds.
Perhaps not even an instant.
However, the situation differed from expectations.
Suddenly, a tremendous sound echoed.
Lifting his head, he looked toward the horizon with eyes now entirely mechanical.
And when the captain gazed at the horizon where he had been thrown, what he saw was not the devastating defeat or Aslan split into six pieces.
KWA-A-A-A-A-A-A-ANG!
An explosive roar.
Aslan blocking the mace with purity.
Even amidst the shockwaves, Aslan did not retreat, and the Supreme Divinity attacked furiously and continuously.
It was a bizarre sight.
The aperture of the mechanical pupil narrowed, magnifying the battlefield.
With the closer view, the captain could more accurately assess the situation.
‘Already blocking ahead.’
The Supreme Divinity’s attacks are not just fierce but overwhelming.
It swings weapons at speeds faster than a single breath.
Stabbing with daggers, swinging spears at the throat, firing arrows, and rapidly casting magic with the staff.
Then hammering with the mace and cutting with the sword.
The Supreme Divinity’s arms become iron fists capable of smashing everything in their path, raining down on Aslan.
A storm of violence.
No matter what blocks it, this torrent cannot be endured for even an instant.
These were attacks that could cleave mountains, sever seas, and split the sky.
Yet Aslan advanced, parting the rain of blows.
Intercepting stabbing daggers with crossed blades, deflecting spears aimed at the throat with the hilt, dodging arrows by twisting the body.
Enduring magical blasts with the Dragon King’s scales, Aslan moved through the scattered flames.
Simultaneously targeting the head and body, the mace and sword unleashed a relentless assault.
Though ferocious, Aslan seemed to know, predicting the moves.
Swinging the blade as if foreseeing the attack, a clear metallic clang echoed across the horizon.
And then came the flurry of punches—dozens of them.
Dodging, Aslan dropped to a knee, lowering his stance and spinning.
Using the momentum from the lowered position, he spun diagonally and swung his sword, severing the Supreme Divinity’s two fists.
No blood flowed, only a cosmic hue spread through the air before disappearing.
Regeneration occurred swiftly, but upon witnessing this, both Aslans understood.
Aslan had obtained the Special Artifact “All-Knowing Scroll.”
Using the power of the scroll, he barely managed to fight.
The Supreme Divinity snarled, distorting its nonexistent face in displeasure and roaring, while Aslan followed up despite spitting out a mouthful of blood.
Even the artificial life form, Number 13, beyond human capability, couldn’t see the exchange of blows.
Swinging, punching, stabbing, grabbing.
Parrying, deflecting, stabbing, cutting, smashing, enduring—a battle.
Each time Aslan was pushed back by unendurable impacts, he spun.
While the Supreme Divinity relentlessly poured forth attacks, intent on crushing him.
Unconsciously moving closer, the captain watched.
The ground was splitting apart.
It was due to the aftermath of Number 13’s spells and the weapons wielded by the Supreme Divinity.
From the cracked earth erupted flames, lightning, poison, and other such things.
Yet the poison didn’t reach the Supreme Divinity, and Aslan navigated the narrower range, avoiding it.
Still, it didn’t touch him—an odd occurrence.
KAGAGAGAJIK!
Even if it did touch, it wasn’t a blow meant to fell him.
Though terrifyingly powerful, even as a deterrent.
POSHUK!
A thrust from the Supreme Divinity grazed Aslan’s left arm, tearing off the Dragon King’s scales along with it.
Having lost his left arm and losing balance, Aslan blocked the follow-up attack with the sword in his right hand. The mana flowing from Number 13’s staff healed Aslan.
Through the harmonious blend of time manipulation magic and restoration school magic, Aslan regained his left arm and immediately continued to hold his ground despite being on the defensive.
It was a familiar sight.
To the captain, to the Supreme Divinity, and to the approaching abyss, it was familiar.
Among them, only the most rational captain could understand after observing for a long time.
It was the appearance they had lost when they became evil deities.
The driving force that allowed the weak to triumph over the strong.
So the captain stopped.
The abyss approached, dyeing the sky beyond the horizon black.
The Supreme Divinity let out a long, angry roar at the presence of the abyss.
It was clearly a disadvantage.
The enemy was mighty, and Aslan continued to bleed and struggle in pain.
Two evil deities.
Add the captain, making three.
Yet, despite the obvious impending defeat, Aslan did not retreat.
“Shadow Reversal.”
“Shadow Reversal.”
ZJAEJAEJAEJUNG!
The pure white turned pitch black twice, and above it, a sword imbued with an even darker cosmic hue traced its path.
The heated air burst and wavered, while Number 13’s magic blazed from the heavens to the ground.
Lightning poured down, thunder roared, flames, frost, rocks, and steel surged upward.
“—!”
In response, the Supreme Divinity roared.
Even this roar contained sacredness and monstrous power, possessing enough force to destroy nature.
The abyss that followed rushed in like a cascading wave.
Though it had no form left, having been shattered countless times by the Supreme Divinity, even its selfhood blurred.
Aslan’s indomitable will remained.
Even as flesh and soul were consumed, the purest essence remained, continuing the struggle.
A tide resembling shadows.
Every particle twisted into the shape of weapons.
The Supreme Divinity screamed, swinging its weapons at this mockery of weaponry.
With a sword retrieved from below, it bisected the abyss reaching toward the heavens.
The sword pressure caused the space to tremble finely, and the abyss countered by pouring out everything it had toward the world.
The unstoppable current of immortality clashed with the transcendent projectile that could cut through death itself.
The collision of the two evil deities made the world tremble as if it were collapsing.
This was a calamity that mere humans could not oppose.
Yet Aslan did not retreat.
Facing the pouring death, he stood firm.
The captain observed all the battles.
Intervening now would certainly be advantageous.
Both the abyss and the Supreme Divinity were exhausted.
Aslan, not even an evil deity, was an easy opponent, and Number 13 could be dealt with easily if they surpassed their guilt.
But the captain did not leap into the battlefield and quietly observed.
A heavy thud calmed his racing heart.
The heart that should have been gone slowed, urging him on.
The last captain saw what he had lost.
And he saw something different from what he had lost and despaired of, something that still resisted.
He questioned himself.
What was the most efficient choice?
After deliberation, the captain approached.
The battlefield, which had overheated, was already tilting.
The clash of the two evil deities had Aslan cornered merely by its aftermath.
The opponents were too formidable.
There was no way to retreat, no place to escape.
Flight against the evil deities descended upon the world was nonsensical.
“KEUHACK…,”
Blood vomited from his mouth, his shattered helmet, scales slowly covering him.
Thanks to Number 13’s restoration magic and time magic.
But accumulated fatigue and feelings of inferiority remained unerased.
Both evil deities were too strong.
Because both were Aslan, Aslan could not win.
Any trick he devised was noticed and blocked.
Summoning creatures would not survive an instant in this battlefield.
There was no guarantee that star-cutting could be aligned here.
The techniques left behind by the Supreme Divinity were too enigmatic to use.
All that remained was survival.
When Aslan moved his creaking wings, grasped purity in both hands, and faced the incoming dark current, a voice rang out.
“FIRE!”
ZEEEEEEREEEEENG!
Suddenly, the dark current dispersed under the impact of the descending shell.
Thrown violently by the shockwave, Aslan rolled on the ground, and the wavering abyss was directly battered and crumbled.
The abyss, now taking the shape of weapons, rolled along the ground.
Before Aslan could comprehend the situation and hastily rise, someone approached from the side.
“TWO QUESTIONS ONLY.”
A mechanical voice, somehow familiar yet strange.
Aslan looked up to see the captain and calmly pointed his sword.
Yet, despite the pointed sword, the captain asked without hesitation.
“Should a situation arise where you must sacrifice either your companion or your goal, what will you do?”
Aslan’s cautious gaze. The captain stood calmly, aware of this wariness.
As if saying he wouldn’t step aside unless given an answer, standing in front of Aslan.
Reluctantly, Aslan answered.
“I won’t sacrifice either.”
“What if you lose both?”
Then the captain asked as if expecting an answer, and Aslan, surprised, opened wide eyes before hesitating.
Aslan wanted to be happy.
He knew that failing to achieve his goal or losing his companion would distance him from happiness.
Thus, he couldn’t give up either.
Even if he might lose both.
“Yes.”
“It will be unbearably painful.”
The mechanical god spoke ambiguously.
Whether losing was painful or the path itself was painful.
Or perhaps both.
It was unclear.
Nevertheless, there was a response regardless of which it was.
He might lose his companion and never rise again.
The possibility of achieving his goal might vanish completely.
But Aslan needed a miracle.
To live happily in this world overflowing with evil deities, a miracle was necessary.
Achieving both impossible tasks.
That was the only way.
“I won’t give up, even so.”
Aslan answered, and the mechanical god murmured.
“Is that so?”
It was a somewhat satisfied voice.
Unlike himself, who had failed, been robbed, and submitted, it was evident that this Aslan would not give up, nonetheless.
The captain valued efficiency.
Because, after losing and failing, he realized that success could not be achieved without considering efficiency.
He thought that if he were given another chance, he would likely fail again.
If there were to be success, it had to be Aslan, not the captain.
To slightly increase the chances, this was the best option.
Thus, the captain believed that the current choice was efficient and reasonable.
At least, that’s how the captain felt.
Aslan possessed the indomitability that the captain had already lost.
“Then,”
The mechanical god murmured.
“Prove it.”
His mission was to save the world.
He judged his suitability for the mission and rationally established strategies.
Ultimately, the captain deemed the new strategy more reasonable than the previous one.
The captain grabbed Aslan’s wrist.
Before Aslan, holding his sword, could react to having his wrist caught and counterattack, the captain’s hand wrapped around his wrist with a mechanical device attached.
The wrist covered by the Dragon King’s scales. The mana circuits flowing through that wrist.
The dragon’s roar abruptly ceased, and a voice sounded in Aslan’s ear.
[Highest Operator: Dragon King Confirmed]
[Captain Succession Confirmed]
[Registering New Protocol…]
Accordingly, the mana circuits flowing through his wrist transformed.
Into something better, something improved.
[12%]
An intangible energy accompanied the tattered remains of the captain’s cloak, which broke into pieces and draped over Aslan’s shoulders.
[61%]
The steam emitted by the Dragon King transformation dissipated, and light emerged.
[79%]
An undamaged, pristine black cloak.
[87%]
Cyan mana circuits glowing through the muscle fibers.
[100%]
Soon, the cloak fluttered, and a voice was heard.
[SYSTEM ALL GREEN]
The voice was familiar to Aslan.
The predator’s voice he had heard several times already.
The voice of an AI that had reached divinity.
Amidst the flowing light, the predator spoke to the new captain.
[WELCOME ABOARD, CAPTAIN.]
