At Aslan’s call, a figure lifted his head: Cornil Ashuld. To Aslan, he was a familiar face.
There had always been occasions when he would show up whenever matters involving the Calus Empire arose, and it was also because they had crossed paths multiple times during games.
The main reason, however, was that Aslan himself had directly put an end to his ambitions.
Two instances of regicide. During the first assassination of the emperor, he had already suffered quite a blow, and with the ascension of the girl Ilyena, who harbored resentment towards the Supreme Divinity, he was completely expelled.
Even in the game, he appeared in a pitiful state after being expelled, so Cornil Ashuld’s current appearance wasn’t entirely incomprehensible.
The problem was that his appearance was not in North Continent’s Cardi but rather after crossing over to the South Continent.
At this bizarre and inexplicable meeting, Aslan furrowed his brow, and upon seeing this expression, Cornil Ashuld widened his eyes.
“Aslan…!”
And with anger and disdain, he called out the name. Aslan, observing the fallen noble calling out a name that wasn’t truly his, rested his longsword on his shoulder.
When the ability ‘Pierce Heart’ disappeared from the sword he had once taken from a disciple, the blade revealed itself as a plain gray one.
“How much more do you need to bring me down before you’re satisfied? What exactly did I do wrong?”
Cornil Ashuld, filled with rage, shouted while his body twitched, causing the chains wrapped around him to clink.
Moreover, a restraint device that suppressed mana was fastened around his neck, rendering him utterly non-threatening.
Aslan understood the situation upon seeing this. Cornil Ashuld had lost his power and influence following Ilyena’s coronation and was driven out. He fled, likely aiming for the South Continent, but it wasn’t easy.
For some reason, he was captured by the priests of the Universe’s inevitability. It was plausible since he had served the Supreme Divinity.
“You look terrible. Maybe you should have quit back then.”
“Shut up… shut up! It’s all because of you that I…!”
“I gave you a chance. I taught you how to make your meaningless life meaningful. You’re the one who didn’t follow.”
“That kind of insane nonsense you call a ‘method’? What do I gain from that?”
With overwhelming frustration, Cornil cried out. The once-neglected noble magician, whose beard had grown dark, glared fiercely as he shouted.
On the other hand, Aslan recalled the offer he made to him during their first encounter in the sixth year of Geladridion.
The offer was to abandon the Supreme Divinity and join him, promising the power and glory he desired.
It was a temptation to become someone everyone looked up to, the greatest magician there could ever be, when the time came.
But Cornil rejected it angrily this time.
Aslan frowned slightly, showing regret.
“Plenty. Peace, people’s respect, humanity, and strength—true ownership of strength—not the kind handed down by those pathetic bastards claiming divinity.”
“You’ve gone mad. Peace? Respect? Humanity? What use are those things? They’re nothing but weakness that crumbles easily under the hands of great beings!”
“Which is why I believe they’re worth protecting. But clearly, they’re not for you.”
Aslan sighed and entered the warehouse. When the tall Aslan stepped inside, the woman and girl standing behind him became visible.
“I never expected you to understand. The reason I didn’t kill you back then, both in the palace and elsewhere, was simply because you were purely human and posed no threat. So stay there quietly.”
“You… you son of a bitch…!”
At the moment Cornil unleashed a torrent of curses unbecoming of a noble, Aslan glanced at the priest.
The priest, whose head had been severed by Aslan, touched his neck as if trying to grasp the situation, then briefly glanced at Cornil and Aslan before speaking.
“If he’s the target, then let’s use him…”
“No, I didn’t come here because of him.”
The priest had suspected that Aslan had come out of personal grudge against Cornil Ashuld, but Aslan shook his head firmly.
“Would I travel this far just to kill some insignificant person? I came here for you.”
As Aslan pointed his index finger at the priest, Cornil widened his eyes and squirmed.
His squirming only caused the chains to rattle.
Ultimately, with no means of action, Cornil screamed furiously at Aslan, who thoroughly ignored the anguish mixed within his cries.
The priest, catching sight of this out of the corner of his eye, dropped his hand from his neck with a puzzled expression.
The neck, torn by the blade, had already sprouted new flesh, and scales covered it.
The priest asked again.
“Because of me? What do you want from me?”
Cardi was a city open to all kinds of priests and believers.
Thus, within Cardi, priests walked freely, and unless they caused trouble, they weren’t restrained.
If it weren’t Cardi, the priest might have immediately understood what Aslan was implying, but this was Cardi.
‘Could it be that he knows?’
The priest wondered if he knew about his mission, but there was no sign of it.
To Aslan, it wasn’t surprising, and thus it didn’t show.
Misjudging, the priest stared silently at Aslan and organized his thoughts. Aslan said nothing.
‘Should I strike first and ambush him?’
No, it wouldn’t work. Though Aslan carried his sword casually on his shoulder with an air of ease, his wide stance was ready for immediate movement.
‘Then should I flee…’
Seeing the ancient deity’s warhorse standing at the doorway with its arms crossed, the priest gritted his teeth.
‘Does he block my escape route?’
The situation wasn’t good. There was a passage leading outside Cardi beneath the shelter, but getting there wouldn’t be easy, and it was clear that Aslan would catch up before he even reached the end.
He was cornered. With discomfort, the priest lowered his gaze and spoke.
“Fine. What do you want?”
His only way to survive now was to depend on Aslan’s mercy.
If Aslan had intended to kill him, it would have been done already. He thought that if he granted Aslan’s wish, he might spare him.
Of course, things never went as planned. Aslan tapped his shoulder lightly with the sword resting on it, producing a soft tapping sound each time.
Silent without saying much, the priest frowned as he couldn’t read Aslan’s intentions and stared silently at him.
Their gazes met. Just as their eyes locked, someone’s head peeked out from behind Aslan, drawing his gaze instinctively. It was the woman whose silhouette was seen earlier when Aslan entered.
This woman pulled off her hood, revealing snow-white hair and bright pink eyes.
“Oh.”
All of this was familiar to the priest.
What it implied was obvious, so the priest unintentionally muttered the name.
“Ereta…?”
“It seemed like a familiar face, and I was right. Hello, Niell.”
Though she smiled brightly, the emotion behind it wasn’t entirely pleasant. The priest noticed and clicked his tongue.
For some reason, the spider god of fire had lost a significant amount of divine power, and Ereta had ceased to be a priestess. She was supposed to have been killed, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.
Seeing the former Saint of Slaughter alive and well, the priest unconsciously distanced himself. The former saint slipped out beside Aslan and entered the warehouse.
Niell, the priest addressed as such, with a face covered in rotting flesh and scales, brought his hand to the flail at his waist and looked at Aslan and Ereta, unable to comprehend the sudden situation.
“Do you know anything about the Formless One?”
In the uncomfortable silence, as the priest swallowed, Aslan asked.
The question surprised the priest.
“…Is that all you want to know?”
Aslan didn’t answer. He merely gripped his sword tightly, sliding it off his shoulder.
That single motion was a significant threat. Ereta also seemed to complement it, gripping the two weapons at her waist—the axe and the mace, which spun in her hands.
What would happen if he didn’t answer was crystal clear. Niell was a priest who had survived for quite a long time. His survival instincts, which had kept him alive for so long, told him that fighting now would surely lead to death.
Niell had no choice but to speak.
“I… I don’t know much either. I just heard it from the Twin-Headed Evil Deity. According to what I heard, the Formless One is a massive planet. A living planet made of flesh, bones, and internal organs.”
A living planet. While how it was possible was unclear, Aslan didn’t bother questioning it.
There were already plenty of strange and unbelievable deities among the evil gods.
“What’s a planet?”
“Hmph.”
Although Angie asked due to not understanding, she received a reprimand from Ereta and fell silent, sticking out her lower lip. This allowed Aslan to prompt the priest further.
“Continue.”
“Uh… then… Ah, yes. The… That guy doesn’t really have any priests. He hasn’t established roots in Geladridion much. Therefore, he’s not very well-known in the world… Even the Twin-Headed Evil Deity didn’t know much about him.”
Aslan accepted this explanation.
Given that the Formless One rarely showed up in Geladridion, it made sense that little was known about it.
“So, do you know nothing else?”
However, that wasn’t enough. Aslan slightly tightened his grip on the drawn sword, prompting the priest to swallow hard.
“Ah, no! There’s one more thing! The special information the Twin-Headed Evil Deity exclusively shared with priests who achieved great merit! I… I know it too!”
Aslan raised an eyebrow and glanced at Ereta. His gaze questioned whether Niell was truly a priest meritorious enough to possess such knowledge.
Ereta seemed delighted by the eye contact and nodded with a slight smile. When Aslan turned back to Niell, the latter, visibly tense, continued.
“Speak.”
“First, promise my safety. Then I’ll talk…”
Before he could finish, Aslan moved. With a light step forward, he used his knee to knock the priest’s knees, disrupting his balance. In response to this sudden action, the priest spat poison from his mouth, but it was easy to dodge given his unstable posture.
Aslan twisted his body to evade the poison and, immediately afterward, swung his sword near his shoulder using the momentum generated from the turn. An efficient trajectory followed, precisely cutting into the priest’s arm and heading toward his chest.
Sssst…
“Guh…”
The sound of the spewed poison melting the warehouse wall echoed alongside heavy breathing. It was due to the precise slash that split the chest and crushed the poison gland.
Aslan coldly observed the priest and spoke.
“A priest of the Poison-Spitting Dragon. Naturally, one would think, ‘He will spit poison from his mouth,’ right? If you don’t want to die, breathe. I won’t warn you again.”
Aslan twisted the sword embedded in the poison gland, directing the blade toward the heart. The sharpness of the moving blade cutting through live flesh caused Niell to sweat profusely while venom dripped from his mouth.
“The Formless One extracts the soul and flesh. Humans stripped of their soul and flesh become his followers and undergo transformation. This process is similar to normal priesthood induction, achieved through dreams.”
Aslan hummed and frowned, slightly twisting the sword held in a downward thrust position as he thought.
Priesthood induction usually occurred either through accumulating merit as a follower or via selection. In dreams, the deity personally descends to the individual, demanding their devotion. Agreeing leads to becoming a priest and shedding one’s humanity.
If it follows the same method…
Aslan asked.
“Then isn’t that a priest? Not just a follower?”
“Dif-ferent. The Twin-Headed Evil Deity mentioned that meetings with him are excessively vague and destructive. Human souls and bodies can’t withstand it. Only in rare cases where someone endures it or discerns his true nature do they become priests,” Niell replied.
It was an intriguing story. Aslan had neither heard nor seen anything about such a deity before.
Doubts grew regarding the identity of the Formless One as Aslan pressed the blade deeper, breaking ribs while asking another question.
“One last question. How about his priests?”
“What do you mean? What about them…”
“Physical abilities, appearance, habits, powers. Anything.”
As Niell hesitated, Aslan drove the blade deeper, inflicting pain. The healing wound in his chest reopened wider, eliciting a scream from the priest.
After gasping for breath, the priest tearfully responded.
“The priests of the Formless One… they are colossal pillars of flesh. They consume everything around them to mass-produce followers. They serve as relay towers receiving the Formless One’s divine power directly…”
“…Are those pillars strong?”
“Ah, no. The Twin-Headed Evil Deity said that a couple of priests could easily deal with them…”
Hearing this, Aslan kicked Niell after pulling out the deeply embedded sword. Niell rolled on the floor, coughing violently as blood and venom spread with every convulsion.
“So, that’s what it was.”
Aslan murmured pensively, recalling the battle just before discovering the warehouse.
The attack by the Formless Ones, targeting priests and followers first. The frantic cries of the followers heard beforehand. And the countless assaults on followers witnessed repeatedly while exterminating them in Cardi—it all lacked emotional motives like revenge or hatred.
However, now that Aslan learned about the Formless One’s priests, the truth became apparent.
It was simple.
The Formless One wanted to expand its influence in Geladridion.
To achieve this, it targeted Cardi, which had a large population and abundant resources.
But creating priests in Cardi was challenging due to the numerous existing priests and followers.
Not only were the conditions for creating priests difficult, but they were also vulnerable once created. Thus, the Formless One sought to eliminate the most threatening priests and followers.
This explained the recent appearances of the Formless One within Cardi.
While the question of “Why now?” remained unanswered, Aslan was certain.
Upon confirming this, he glanced at Angie.
Angie was just looking outside, not inside the warehouse.
As if proving Aslan’s certainty, footsteps approached in unison.
Heavy and light sounds of all kinds filled the air.
“Aslan, people are coming… uh?”
The approaching footsteps changed. From the sound of something solid scraping the ground to the sound of water-filled bags being spilled, various noises increased.
Aslan realized what was happening and clicked his tongue.
An assault by the Formless One.
Bang!
“Heh, heh… they’ve come. They’ve arrived…”
As Niell laughed bitterly, Aslan glared at the Formless Ones emerging from the broken warehouse walls.
“There are so many. I’m getting a bad feeling about this…”
Even Erethta chuckled faintly while wiping away a bead of cold sweat at the sight of the numbers—easily fifty Formless Ones squeezing through the broken warehouse walls.
As the Formless Ones filled one side of the warehouse and stopped, a thick oppressive atmosphere hung in the air.
Aslan glanced around at the varied humans-turned-followers.
First, his eyes fell on Niell.
Niell was a priest. Someone Aslan should kill rather than save, and now that all information had been extracted, he was useless.
Next, Cornil Ashuld.
The main quest concerning Cornil Ashuld was already over. Perhaps only a couple of side quests remained, but since the rewards were already secured, there was no real need to pursue them.
With a slight hum, Aslan sheathed his longsword and drew a dagger.
Aslan thought.
There was no need for him to capture all these creatures personally.
Though the extermination was scheduled for two weeks later, there was no necessity to start killing them all now.
They had always utilized traps, deception, manipulation, and environmental attacks during battles.
There was no rule against doing so now.
Aslan believed the timing of the extermination didn’t matter, whether it happened after one side resolved the conflict with the priests or the Formless Ones.
“Angie, Erethta.”
“Yes.”
“Just say the word.”
Confident Angie, holding her six-foot staff, and Erethta, spinning her two weapons, received a subtle nod from Aslan.
“Let’s run.”
“Good.”
“…Wha? What? Wait―”
Before Angie could finish speaking, a thunderous roar erupted from the dagger Aslan held.
‘Thunder Call.’
Krrrrooooom!
The pale dagger flew straight from his hand.
The flying dagger collided with the foremost Formless One, forcefully knocking it back.
The Formless One tumbled along with countless others, rolling on the ground, clearing a path. The grotesque human forms scattered across the alley corners struggled to rise shakily.
“Wasn’t your name Niell?”
Seeing the cleared path, Aslan briefly glanced at Niell.
“I dislike you all. I won’t care if you kill each other here. Anyway, I’ll come back to kill whoever survives, so deal with it yourselves.”
With that cold statement, Aslan dashed out, followed by Angie and Erethta. The Formless Ones didn’t block their escape. They only stared blankly at the priest.
Aslan had guessed correctly; their priority was the priest.
The priest dumbly watched Aslan depart, while the bound Cornil Ashuld shouted at his retreating figure.
“Aslaaaan!”
That shout suddenly turned into a scream.
