“Human, all weapons have been brought.”
“Human, they’re taking our weapons… This is bad…”
“Just watch, I’ll return them intact.”
Interrupting the clamor of the complaining giants, Aslan knelt on one knee and stared at the weapon before picking it up.
The weight was heavy even for Aslan, who wielded all kinds of weapons like a master, indicating that this was not an easy weapon to handle.
Eventually, Aslan put the weapon down.
“…As expected.”
Aslan looked at the massive stone battleaxes and hammers laid out before him and confirmed his suspicions.
Despite the crude craftsmanship typical of the giants, the weapons were well-maintained and crafted.
As Aslan inspected these well-kept weapons, the giants watched anxiously, sending fearful glances his way.
They seemed worried that their fine weapons might be taken away or damaged.
Of course, Aslan had no such intention. Moreover, there was nothing worth taking from such crude weapons, so he quietly examined them.
On the edge of the axe and the head of the hammer lay deep blue traces.
This substance resembled ectoplasm often seen in occult horror games, with a similar color and texture, giving off a strange sense of familiarity.
A familiarity exclusive to Aslan, more precisely to Wild Wizards.
Though familiar, it wasn’t enough to be certain. Verification was needed.
Aslan swiped the bluish semi-solid substance on the surface of the stone battleaxe with his finger.
The sticky texture clinging to his fingers, along with the faint magical energy emanating from it.
Through this energy, Aslan deduced and sighed.
‘As expected, not a specter.’
Rather, it was closer to a monster created by magic.
Comparable to a familiar or summoned creature, and under certain circumstances, it could even be called a slime.
But it wasn’t entirely unrelated to specters.
Its main component was mana, but the raw material was akin to a soul. It seemed to be something created by shaping souls.
‘Though I can’t sense a soul directly… it reacts to purity. It definitely contains a soul.’
When Aslan lightly swept the blue substance with the single-edged sword in his right hand, the blue viscous matter enveloped in blazing white light burned brightly and disappeared.
Definitive proof that it contained a soul. If it reacted to the effects of purity, which could cut through souls or divine power, there was no need for further investigation.
Moreover, its physical properties seemed to defy physics, confirming that this was indeed a monster containing a soul.
Whoever created it was unknown, but the method was clear to Aslan.
The structure of the blue mana-laden viscous substance was startlingly familiar.
The tattoo coiling around Aslan’s entire right arm. A tattoo that stored magic for use and activated recorded spells with maximum efficiency, bypassing any catalyst requirements.
So-called mana tattoos, a technology of the ancient empire, nearly lost to time. The paint used in this technology and the viscous substance extracted from slain specters were similar.
Clearly, this mana-based viscous substance was used to create souls. Though confident, Aslan was still puzzled.
No school of magic he knew of could create such pseudo-specters.
There were only two possible methods.
One, a veteran-level archmage had created it.
The other, a Wild Wizard.
Aslan considered the latter far more likely.
Though many wizards lack ethics and morals, the field of souls and death had long been obsolete.
Considering the recent trends in magic research focusing on the efficiency of priests and deities, this was far too outdated.
‘Wild Wizard.’
Aslan sheathed the single-edged sword imbued with purity back at his waist as he stood up.
“Take your weapons. I’m done here.”
While the giants hurriedly retrieved their weapons and eyed Aslan suspiciously, Aslan frowned, revealing his discomfort.
Somehow, for reasons unknown, the culprit behind this specter situation was undoubtedly a Wild Wizard.
More specifically, a Wild Wizard who understood souls.
The problem lay there.
Wild Magic, hardly deserving the name “field,” differed from regular magic.
While magic is built on intellect and wisdom, Wild Magic required complete understanding of the relevant element and bodily modifications.
To use fire magic, a simple hand sign or incantation would suffice.
However, to use fire with Wild Magic, one first needed to understand fire.
The taste, texture, form, and theory of fire.
How it ignites, spreads, and extinguishes.
Beyond that, one had to fully comprehend fire itself.
Afterward came the bodily modification.
By altering one’s body through Wild Magic to handle the understood element, one could finally use Wild Magic to manipulate fire.
In short, Wild Magic was a form of human body modification magic.
Using one’s modified body as a tool to unleash understood Wild Magic.
An epitome of inefficiency and irrationality.
Consequently, all Wild Wizards were mad.
Understanding something beyond human cognition drives one insane. Or the process of mutation twists one’s mind.
Aslan’s limitations to simple physical enhancement or weapon strengthening stemmed from these reasons.
Raising his head to follow the path where the specters had disappeared, Aslan thought.
About the method the Wild Wizard might have used to create these specters.
First, somehow modifying one’s arm to touch souls.
Then, creating or modifying said arm to infuse mana into souls.
And thus, using the created or modified mechanism to infuse mana into souls, creating specters.
Why these specters were sent to the giants remained unclear, but this type of Wild Magic was extremely dangerous.
Simply handling souls was perilous. Its future development was unpredictable.
It might evolve into a Wild Magic that forcibly strips souls from living beings.
Amidst these thoughts, Aslan gazed at the horizon, following the trail left by the specters.
Though some time had passed, with Aslan’s hunting skills, luck, and mana, tracking wouldn’t be difficult.
It wouldn’t be a direct route.
Tracking itself would be arduous, and confronting a Wild Wizard who manipulates souls would be challenging.
For these reasons, Aslan could have ignored the anxious gazes of the giants behind him and continued on his own path.
He could have left them all to die and gone in search of the legendary swordsman.
But Aslan didn’t.
Leaving such dangerous magic unchecked could lead to unforeseen consequences.
It might harm people, or may have already done so.
If left unchecked until after causing harm, the direction and strength of this soul-manipulating Wild Magic were unpredictable.
Most concerning was its very nature.
Handling souls themselves. If it fell into the hands of a priest, terrible things would surely happen.
Perhaps a priest was already involved behind the scenes.
In short.
It was something only Aslan, present here now, could and must do. That’s what Aslan believed.
“Angie, Ereta.”
At the call, the girl casually nodded, and the startled Ereta turned to meet Aslan’s gaze.
“Come here. I’ll explain the plan now.”
*
“I’m not sure if just taking me along is a good idea~”
With a cloth draped over her head, Ereta followed Aslan. Their path faintly bore the traces left by the specters.
“That little one seems reluctant to part with you, doesn’t she?”
Aslan didn’t respond.
Of course, Aslan was well aware of that fact.
Angie tended to follow Aslan closely.
“Do you think this is your chance to betray me?”
Ereta, teasing about what she’d do if she betrayed, made Aslan uncomfortable with her behavior, having recently been silent.
“You don’t plan to betray me, do you.”
Despite the awkwardness, Aslan glanced at her and spoke. Ereta’s eyes widened, seemingly surprised that Aslan didn’t expect her to handle the situation.
“And if the specters return, only Angie and I can face them. You’re not compatible with the specters, so I can’t leave you behind either.”
Only Angie, with her high health stats, could counterattack without fear of spectral attacks, recover quickly from injuries, and withstand some physical assaults.
Adding to this explanation, Aslan continued.
“In case anything happens, I’ll keep you close where it won’t be problematic. That way, whatever you do, I can deal with it.”
Unfazed by Aslan’s cold words, Ereta’s expression barely changed, as if she had anticipated this.
“Treat me like baggage? Use me like a chess piece and discard me at will?”
Her words lacked emotion, revealing her awareness of her situation.
Although a veteran, being both a priest and a veteran meant she hadn’t fully adapted to her new abilities or body, making her less effective than an average person.
Her reasonable statement made Aslan shake his head while standing up.
“I’ll discard you when necessary. But you won’t reach the gods that way. You won’t even survive long enough.”
Ereta, surprised by the unexpected response, let out a questioning sound as Aslan resumed walking.
“I will kill the gods. For that, I’ll spare no effort or manpower. So don’t question my plans. Just follow quietly.”
The firm statement accompanied by a hint of hatred. The subtle animosity felt when uttering the word ‘god’ prompted Ereta to clutch her abdomen and reply with a “Yes.”
Afterward, the two walked silently, following the trail. With each step leaving footprints in the sand, the giant’s fortress village grew distant.
An awkward silence. Amid the soft crunching sounds of sand beneath their feet, Ereta raised her gaze.
Upon reflection, it was strange.
She voiced the oddity.
“Why do you think I won’t betray you? The man who tore me apart and made me forsaken by the gods. Isn’t there rather a reason why I shouldn’t betray?”
Seeking the reason why she couldn’t betray from someone else, Ereta remained composed.
Aslan answered her question with quiet observation of the surroundings.
“Though it’s quite a distance, we should arrive soon if we start now. We’ll reach there by tomorrow morning.”
As the sun slowly set, casting long shadows, Ereta looked at the silent Aslan with a discontented expression.
Biting her lips and gripping her clothes tightly, she waited.
Aslan, after observing the surroundings for a while, eventually turned around.
Her lazy gaze carried a sense of annoyance and slight irritation—essentially, contempt.
That contemptuous look, the clear negative emotions directed at herself, made Ereta feel her heart race as she clutched her chest.
Her face slightly reddened, bewildered yet unable to look away from Aslan’s face and piercing gaze. Noticing all this, Aslan smirked faintly.
Smirking, Aslan approached slowly. With each step closer, Ereta felt her heartbeat quicken.
An inexplicable impulse stirred violently in her lower abdomen and heart.
Finally stopping right in front of her, Aslan looked down at Ereta.
Under his steady gaze, Ereta swallowed hard.
“Why do you think I don’t believe you’ll betray me?”
His voice carried a distinct tone of irritation, leaving Ereta unable to nod, her face turning vividly red.
“Why don’t I suspect the man who tore you apart, made you forsaken, and beat you mercilessly?”
…
“The man who tore you apart and beat you mercilessly. That’s why you can’t betray.”
“My face… ugh…”
Recalling the sensation of the axe blade tearing her apart and Aslan’s fists pounding her, Ereta’s heart raced wildly.
Meeting his gaze, her face and ears turned bright red, prompting her to glance away with a peculiar urge to cry.
Aslan chuckled softly at this sight.
“Let’s go, we still have a long way to travel.”
“…Neh…”
Suppressing her overheated lower abdomen and rapidly beating heart, Ereta followed Aslan.
