There was still a problem.
Even if Aslan thought about releasing the Archer, the sin would still remain.
Since he shot at the Sacred Mountain revered in the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom, Tiya Mal Clo believed that if Aslan did nothing, she would meet a terrible end.
Even if things went well, it would still be beheading. Desecrating the Sacred Mountain in the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom was a grave offense.
Sneaking out wouldn’t be much better either. Aslan was far too famous to move stealthily, and Tiya Mal Clo was an unmistakably conspicuous dragon-person.
Aslan decided to involve Tiya Mal Clo by forming an alliance with the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom.
At first glance, it seemed like an impossible task, but Aslan had a way.
So Aslan walked out of the outpost without hiding his body or muffling his sounds.
“Huh?”
Aslan held a lantern in one hand and gazed steadily at the watchtower. At this action, the warriors who were busy looking around on the watchtower above let out a startled sound.
The warriors came down from the watchtower all at once. The weapons they drew gleamed eerily under the moonlight. Aslan looked calmly at the approaching warriors.
‘Where did he come from? I didn’t see anyone go inside.’
“Why is he just standing there? Isn’t he going to run?”
The warriors were both perplexed and confused. Aslan stood confidently with the lantern, and it was clear he had sneaked in, but since he wasn’t running away, it only made him more peculiar.
“Could he be a priest…?”
While being surrounded by the warriors, Aslan was eyed uneasily. His chillingly cold green eyes and melancholic expression made it seem like he had some ulterior motive.
Only after realizing that the warriors surrounding him were all present did Aslan throw open his cloak.
When Aslan opened his cloak, the warriors saw two longswords hanging at his waist and their eyes widened.
Before any standard questions like “Put down your weapon” or “What are you doing here?” could be asked, Aslan unfastened his belt and dropped the two sword scabbards onto the ground.
These were incomprehensible actions.
He confidently came out holding a lantern, waited for the warriors to surround him, and then put down his weapons. Unable to understand the underlying purpose of these actions, the warriors remained silent while watching Aslan, and Aslan continued to look at them expressionlessly.
“…I am Aslan, the Veteran of Combat.”
With that same expressionless face, Aslan declared himself. The warriors’ silence was filled with bewilderment at this unexpected declaration.
“Assassin of the Emperor…?”
In the midst of this absurdity, calm as the eye of a storm, someone spoke amidst the night’s darkness.
This person was the supervisor of the outpost and the commander of these warriors.
Aslan slightly nodded at his other title, and the warrior commander tried to make sense of it all.
The man before him introduced himself as a combat veteran, and he certainly looked the part. However, his purpose was unclear. In fact, he hadn’t said anything at all—only revealed his identity.
Confused by these puzzling actions, the warrior commander finally asked,
“Why are you here? Why did you come out from in there? What were you doing inside?”
An interrogation. Aslan remained silent, merely lifting his calm gaze to encompass the warrior commander. The depth of gloom in that gaze made the warrior commander uneasy, yet he closed his mouth.
When the warrior commander fell silent, Aslan quietly began to speak.
“That’s not important, is it? What matters is that I’ve intruded here and conversed with the blasphemer inside.”
Honest words. The warrior commander flinched.
“You’re in league with that guy, right? You’re trying to rescue that lizard fellow….”
“No, it’s not like that.”
Aslan chuckled at the warrior commander’s half-spoken words. The smile on his cold face made the warriors feel their tension ease involuntarily.
His innate grace or character shone through his attitude, and the warriors exchanged glances, shrugging.
“I’ve come not to help that dragon-person but to help you.”
“Help…?”
When the warrior commander caught on to his words, Aslan wiped away his gentle smile and became serious.
This sudden change in expression was unsettling, and the warrior commander swallowed hard.
“The one inside isn’t just any dragon-person. It’s the Archer.”
“What?!”
At Aslan’s declaration, the warriors were taken aback.
The name “Veteran” was widely known throughout the northern continent.
Naturally, it was also recognized in the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom, which was close to the center of the northern continent.
The warriors paled as they recalled rumors such as fighting off hundreds of warriors alone, and the warrior commander fixed his gaze on Aslan.
Upon reflection, the man before him also seemed to be a veteran.
Though he had placed his weapons on the ground, upon closer inspection, a dagger was still attached to his side.
If he wanted, it seemed like he could throw it and kill at least one person.
And if he did so, it wouldn’t be just for capturing one individual. There were methods in group battles where fear played a role, and it seemed entirely possible for a combat veteran.
When the warrior commander subtly reached for his axe, Aslan raised his previously lowered gaze to meet the commander’s eyes and spoke.
“Even though it’s a bow, a veteran is still a veteran. If that dragon-person wants to leave, can you stop them? Can you subdue that dragon-person with just your forces?”
Without giving time to respond, Aslan continued speaking. His imposing demeanor left the warriors sweating cold sweat.
“To be blunt, it’s impossible. As evident from my intrusion here, you have no means to stop that dragon-person.”
“What are you trying to say, Assassin of the Emperor?”
“I’ll help.”
Aslan responded, lifting his chin. His arrogant posture seemed more like confidence than hubris.
“It seems you’re planning to transport this person to Berzhotov. Is that correct?”
Berzhotov, the capital of the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom, and the largest city in the land of the kingdom’s tribes where Aslan now stood.
The warrior commander nodded.
“…Yes.”
“In that case, I’ll escort during the transfer. To ensure that the Archer Tiya Mal Clo doesn’t escape and that no one attempts a breakout.”
The warrior commander couldn’t make a proper judgment. He was swayed by the situation. Perhaps because these words were spoken by someone who had already breached the outpost, he had no rebuttal.
He was merely puzzled by the straightforward offer of help. A suspicion lingered that Aslan must want something.
But even that was within Aslan’s control.
“What do you want?”
Aslan grinned affably. His curved eyes smiled warmly.
“I want to meet the Grand Chief.”
“…The Grand Chief?”
The warrior commander paused mid-sentence, recalling something.
The Grand Chief, the king, and the tribal chief wearing the crown disliked Aslan. Normally, if he visited casually, he wouldn’t be met.
“You mean you want me to arrange a meeting with the King, who dislikes you?”
“Yes, I must meet him. I have a proposal.”
The warrior commander finally realized, nodding as if making a mistake.
Aslan’s plan was to meet the king, he mistakenly assumed.
Unaware that the real objective was hidden behind this, he accepted the falsehood as truth.
“Fine. I accept your offer. I will arrange a meeting with the Chief.”
“Thank you.”
Aslan sighed inwardly while looking at the warrior commander who hadn’t noticed a thing, maintaining a smiling face.
‘I don’t know if it’s worth risking death just to win over some woman.’
*
“A woman?”
Ereta asked this way. Amidst the clattering sounds along the uphill path, the soft voice of the woman rang out.
“Yes, a woman.”
As Aslan replied, glancing sideways, those leading ahead came into view.
They were some of the warriors guarding the outpost where Tiya Mal Clo was detained, and now they were the warriors escorting the carriage moving Tiya Mal Clo to Berzhotov.
Ereta tilted her head at Aslan’s answer.
“Did she shoot at the Sacred Mountain just for a woman?”
“…Yeah, just for a woman.”
As Aslan replied, Ereta frowned her delicate brow. She couldn’t tell if it made any sense.
“Was she a priestess?”
“No, when I asked if I was a monk, it didn’t seem like that.”
Above all, when Aslan rolled his eyes, Phey, who had been walking silently, met his gaze and muttered an “eh?” sound.
“If she were a priestess, either me or Phey would have known.”
“Yeah, Phey knows priests well!”
At this boastful shout, the warrior pulling the carriage glanced at the group and returned his gaze forward. He probably thought they were just children, and Phey wore a cold smile beneath her face, satisfied with the reaction.
Deception was one of Phey’s most effective attack methods.
“If she’s not a priestess, why did she do it… Does she have a way out?”
“Hearing this makes me curious too. Why did she do it? Does she have confidence?”
Ereta and Angie questioned the man who might become their future comrade.
While asking, Ereta wondered if Tiya Mal Clo was hiding some scheme, and Angie, borrowing her words, wondered if she was hiding some ‘rascal.’ If she had confidence or comrades, it wouldn’t be a problem to pull off such bizarre acts.
The issue was that it didn’t seem like that.
“She doesn’t seem to have any plans to leave.”
“…Eh. Well, she probably didn’t want to die. Was there nothing else?”
“Yeah, nothing. She only said that a good woman is worth risking one’s life for.”
At this, Angie wrinkled her face.
The appearance differed greatly from the dragons she knew. The dragons were nobles wielding absolute power in Belus Alphen, and as such, they acted with pride and arrogance, tending to be serious and dignified.
“…Is that really a dragon?”
Chattiness was far removed from them.
Angie looked curiously at Tiya Mal Clo, who was being transported quietly in the carriage, and Aslan nodded as if understanding Angie’s skepticism.
“She’s quite unique among dragons. Likely, she won’t become a priest. Her accumulated skills seem to be used for show.”
Priests are usually born out of tragedies or arise from those who excessively pursue power.
Sometimes, like Cornil Ashuld, they get entangled in a grand design and become priests or earn merit to achieve priesthood, but typically, they are bestowed upon those who pursue power.
Tiya Mal Clo was, in this sense, a safe character. Using power for show means treating it as insignificant.
Angie crossed her arms and looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t like it. It’s disgraceful to use such power just to seduce a woman.”
It seemed more like disliking the fact that it was a dragon rather than the act itself, but Angie maintained the stance of disapproval due to its immorality.
“Hmm, I kind of get it!”
On the contrary, Phey didn’t shy away from Tiya Mal Clo.
When Angie’s gaze reached Phey, Phey smiled broadly while clinging to Aslan’s arm.
“Phey likes being praised by Aslan! Showing skills gets more praise, so I think she just wants to show off a lot!”
“So give more praise!” Phey added while clinging to Aslan’s arm, and Aslan smiled helplessly while stroking Phey’s hair.
The tousled red hair followed the caressing strokes, and Phey smiled as if she were an innocent child.
However, neither Angie nor Aslan seemed to fully understand this kind of showing off.
Aslan was generally desireless, and Angie, having survived as a slum dweller, believed that power should be used for survival rather than display.
Unlike them, Ereta, who had the luxury to possess ample power, understood Phey’s words.
‘I kind of get it.’
Ereta liked Aslan’s cold eyes. She liked the faint killing intent seeping through, the readiness to kill at any moment.
Looking into those eyes made her feel something bubbling up from within, allowing her to feel her heart pounding roughly.
Even the underlying aversion to killing was fascinating.
She liked everything about how Aslan treated her harshly, struck her, or emitted killing intent.
“But I like being praised too.”
Though she hadn’t experienced much praise, Ereta could feel a different surge of emotions when Aslan complimented her.
A comfortable sense of elevation unlike the feelings of being condemned or threatened with death.
Because of this, Ereta could understand flaunting skills.
If she showed enough skill and performed well according to Aslan’s instructions…
‘Can I also receive praise from Aslan like this?’
Even seeing Phey getting stroked made her feel envious deep down.
She imagined herself in that position.
The large, thick, rough hand of Aslan.
Gently brushing her hair, caressing her cheek, softly touching her lips, and tenderly massaging her face.
Following the touch, she could lift her gaze to see Aslan’s kind smile.
The kindness in his melancholic eyes would be completely focused on her, untouched despite all the time spent fighting priests, humans, and monsters.
Imagining this made Ereta’s heart race.
A strange constriction in her lower abdomen intertwined with a rising excitement, and without realizing it, Ereta exhaled a heated breath.
‘Aha, this is it.’
Ereta was familiar with this sensation. It was similar to when she received wound treatment from Aslan after defeating the formless one’s priestess.
The difference was that she wasn’t even touching Aslan now.
‘Why am I feeling this without even being hit?’
Her face flushed, her breathing quickened, and Ereta didn’t know why.
To grasp her racing heart, she placed her hand on her ample chest encased in leather armor, hoping it would settle.
Aslan approached her after observing Ereta’s reaction.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Approaching kindly, Aslan’s face was close. Ereta was startled once by everyone in the group looking at her and twice by Aslan’s proximity.
Her already pale face turned bright red.
“Yesterday, you said your body was sore and rested, are you okay?”
“Yes, y-yes, I’m fine.”
Trying to hide her embarrassment with a forced smile, Aslan extended his hand.
For a moment, she anticipated a strike but was surprised when Aslan’s action was completely unexpected.
Aslan’s warm hand gently brushed aside her hair and touched her forehead. The contact made Ereta’s heart race wildly.
Without realizing it, Ereta flinched and then closed her eyes, deciding to enjoy it since she couldn’t avoid it anyway.
Closing her eyes, all she could hear was Aslan’s steady breathing nearby and the pounding of her own heart.
‘I need to breathe evenly. He might feel bad.’
Regulating her uneven breaths, Ereta kept her eyes closed, and Aslan eventually lifted his hand from her forehead after a while.
“There doesn’t seem to be a fever… Still, if you’re not feeling well, let me know. Your wounds from the recent battle might have reopened.”
As Ereta exhaled with difficulty and looked at Aslan, he was watching her kindly.
His kind gaze made Ereta bite her lips tightly. Her heart was pounding painfully.
“Neh…”
The reply came out in a breathy voice. Aslan nodded and returned to lead the group toward the carriage. The road ahead was now smooth.
Ereta’s burning gaze followed his back until the city came into view at the end of the road.
Berzhotov.
Also known as the Throne of the Mountains.
This city, situated midway up the Varmanz Mountain Range, was essentially a mountainous city.
Together with the densely packed watchtowers and outposts carved into the sheer cliffs, this city, fortified by natural mountain walls carved and built for defense, stood at the boundary between hills and mountains.
Thanks to its location on the hillside, living conditions weren’t poor, and its natural fortress-like mountains, carved and constructed for defensive purposes, provided advantages in siege warfare.
Within the city, countless symbols carved into the peaks of towering mountains and various tribal memorials hung everywhere.
As Aslan observed the unique landscape that caught his eye, he sighed upon noticing a flickering message at the edge of his vision.
[Ongoing Main Quest]
[ ! Defeat the Priest Who Attacked the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom]
[Remaining Time: 27 hours 16 minutes]
That sigh was one of relief.
Aslan’s plan to break Tiya Mal out was predicated on the appearance of the next main quest.
Aslan confirmed the remaining time imprinted on his retina, confident that this was the only way to free Tiya Mal while forming an alliance with the Varmanz Mountain Kingdom.
