Mana tattoo.
This was not a very common skill.
Considering that currently, only two countries possessed this technology in all of Geladridion—one in the Northern Continent and one in the Southern Continent—it was indeed a very rare skill.
Moreover, the mana tattoo boasted power matching its rarity.
After all, the tattoo engraved on Aslan’s arm was also a type of mana tattoo.
Aslan believed that Ereta needed this mana tattoo.
Ereta, with the gap between her skills and physical capabilities, was unable to fight effectively.
Ereta herself was aware of this fact, and even Frida noticed it at a glance.
For this reason, Ereta did not stop Aslan, but she found his involvement troubling.
Without consoling Ereta, Aslan spoke.
He aimed to accomplish two things here.
One was to secure an affirmative response regarding the alliance, and the other was to engrave a mana tattoo on Ereta.
“Is there a reason? What is it?”
Frida asked. In response, Aslan nodded and replied.
“Because Ereta is my comrade.”
It wasn’t a particularly logical answer; he hadn’t intended for it to be. This was simply Aslan’s perspective.
Upon hearing this thought, Frida seemed confused, frowning slightly.
“If we form an alliance, Ereta will become your ally as well, Your Highness Frida. Isn’t increasing our effective forces a reasonable move?”
Aslan said this while glancing at the beast floating around Frida’s feet. It was still a bear walking on all fours since no tattoos had been applied yet.
“The only thing lacking in Ereta, a master of blunt weapons, is raw strength. With sufficient strength, she’ll be able to fight adequately. For that, we need the mana tattoo.”
“…That may be true, but why should I help you with that?”
When Frida twisted her curved sword, small sparks flew from the wings of Steamfalos.
“You and I aren’t allies yet, are we?”
Aslan smiled faintly at this remark.
“Is that really so?”
And he countered.
Her expression changed upon hearing his counter-question. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Aslan, trying to gauge what he might know.
It was purely due to Aslan’s accurate prediction of the situation.
Aslan could anticipate the conversations and meetings Frida and the elders might have had.
Priests rarely appear near cities.
Even if people didn’t clearly understand the reasons, they were aware of this pattern. Therefore, people generally believed priests didn’t show up close to towns.
Until Angie revealed herself to the world, that was how it was.
Two priests attacked the city. One attempt failed, but their intention was evident. The other managed to infiltrate the city and launched an attack.
Witnessing this, other elders, tribal leaders, and even Frida, the Great Tribal Chief, must have discussed the matter.
Old assumptions no longer held true.
They surely recalled Aslan, the warrior who had spoken about the changing and collapsing world during battle.
Recalling the words of some man she had heard through Frida, they must have considered forming an alliance positively.
Of course, the Barmanz Mountain Kingdom, which wasn’t particularly friendly with the evil deities either, would naturally think of allying with Aslan first.
But they wouldn’t have made a decision yet.
Their adversary was an evil deity—powerful transcendent beings capable of distorting the world and scattering demigods across it.
Such beings were opposed by mere humans.
Though their martial arts and techniques reached human limits, that was all they had.
Positive consideration didn’t lead to positive conclusions.
Thus, Aslan now had to instill confidence in Frida.
The despair of resisting this massive flow.
And simultaneously, the hope of being able to oppose the evil deities.
What was needed wasn’t ambition but definitive proof.
Fortunately, Aslan had one word for that purpose.
“The throne of the gods, Kehil.”
Frida flinched, stiffened, and then relaxed her previously sharp gaze to fix a scrutinizing look on Aslan. That look wasn’t filled with hostility or irritation but rather surprise and bewilderment.
Watching her reaction, Aslan continued speaking.
“This isn’t just reckless bravado. I am the master of combat, the embodiment of victory. I don’t engage in battles without prospects of success.”
“Where did you get that idea?”
“That’s irrelevant. What matters is that there is a chance, though it’s merely a chance. For my sake, I need to traverse both the Northern and Southern Continents, gathering people. We need to unite all humans and scrape together every ounce of ancient divine power.”
While Frida’s pupils trembled lightly, Aslan spoke again.
“And when all those humans gather to oppose the evil deities, and my friend shakes the barrier between the evil deities and Geladridion…”
Aslan’s voice remained calm, but within it lay the path to victory he had repeatedly pondered and envisioned dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of times.
Visualizing the future hanging at the end of this path, Aslan spoke.
“At that time, we will kill all the evil deities at Kehil.”
No detailed methods were included. However, whether Frida guessed the method or believed it possible despite not knowing the specifics, she looked at Aslan with disbelief.
Hearing a place name unfamiliar even to Ereta, the two figures stared at each other amidst the confusion.
“…What do you want?”
“Please engrave a mana tattoo on Ereta. For that day, I need strength.”
He didn’t mention the alliance. From the moment Aslan mentioned Kehil, the Barmanz Mountain Kingdom had no choice but to join him.
Frida gazed silently at Ereta with her deep blue eyes. When the differently colored left and right eyes shimmered against each other, Ereta swallowed nervously.
The emotion in those eyes was far from pleasant.
“The blood on those hands isn’t just from a few people. There must be countless souls who died and harbor deep resentment. As you know, the mana tattoo is irreversible. And this is Barmanz. We don’t welcome outsiders.”
“The situation is changing. Moreover… Ereta has already died once.”
Frida turned her gaze back to Aslan, who pressed further.
“The saintess of slaughter is dead. Here stands Ereta, the master of blunt weapons. An Ereta who hasn’t committed any atrocities yet, a human Ereta.”
“Are you planning to play with words?”
The barbed tone implied that Aslan understood how it could sound like wordplay, but he calmly shook his head.
“It’s true. Ereta has already died once. You know I don’t indulge in such trivialities, sister.”
Seeming to agree with his statement, Frida glanced at Ereta after looking at Aslan.
The blazing eyes made Ereta involuntarily swallow. While unsure how Ereta came back to life, Frida believed there must be some reason.
“So, because she’s already died once, you think she’s paid her dues?”
With a mocking tone, Frida tilted her sword further, causing another spark to fly from Steamfalos’ wings, splitting the space between them dramatically.
“Not exactly. A sin remains a sin.”
“Do you not consider the grudges of those who died at her hands?”
“I do consider them. There’s no way I can ignore them.”
In the quiet room, their soft voices echoed as Aslan quietly added,
“Ereta has already been abandoned by the gods. The god who abandoned her damaged its divinity in the process. The balance has collapsed. No god extends a hand to Ereta anymore. They’re afraid the same thing might happen again.”
“I need a companion who will never become a priest. That’s the kind of companion I require.”
At Aslan’s words, Frida glanced at Ereta. Of course, merely wanting Ereta as a companion wouldn’t solve everything. As Frida had said, grudges remain.
Aslan seemed to acknowledge these grudges.
“Of course, I recognize and respect the value of revenge. I’m well aware that retributive justice can be established. It’s a common form of justice here in Geladridion.”
He fully understood. He knew retribution could be justified. Yet, Aslan still hoped for a mana tattoo for Ereta. Confused, Frida asked:
“Then why are you blocking it? Why did you let this woman live?”
“Because it’s not the kind of justice I pursue.”
Frida’s eyebrows twitched, and Aslan pushed his sword away completely as he spoke.
“The justice I seek doesn’t involve vengeance but saving and protecting people. Vengeance won’t save anyone. It’ll only add more deaths.”
Kagagak, Aslan withdrew his curved sword into his feather cloak and closed it while saying,
“I killed the Saintess of Slaughter and took her divinity. As a result, Ereta became weaker and was chased by her compatriots who worshiped the same god. Ereta no longer has the leisure to harm others. She lacks the strength to do so. I’ve prevented the atrocities she might have committed and already inflicted.”
Frida glared at Aslan with her sword in hand, but Aslan didn’t flinch under her gaze.
“Retributive justice doesn’t save people. Even if I’d killed Ereta twice, nothing would have changed. Instead, I accepted Ereta as my companion—to save people through Ereta.”
Before Frida could speak, Aslan continued,
“I need Ereta. If you want her to pay for her sins and punish her… do it after I die or all the evil deities are defeated. Until then, Ereta is my companion under my protection. I’ll save people through Ereta.”
Frida glared at Aslan while listening to these words. But her eyes carried no malice, only memories. She recalled the first time she met Aslan—the day Budonggong lost his left leg, Aslan protected someone with the same steadfast gaze.
Ha, letting out a hollow laugh, Frida sheathed her twin curved swords back into her waistband.
“Do as you please, you annoying little brother.”
“Thank you, sister.”
Smiling gently, Aslan faced Frida, who bared her teeth and grinned ferociously.
“That doesn’t mean I’ll give her a mana tattoo.”
“Sister…!”
“Shut up, you damn brat… Don’t call me ‘sister’ just when it suits you. Listen until I finish talking.”
As Aslan seemed about to protest, Frida dismissed him with a wave of her chin, pointing towards a long corridor leading to the workshop.
“I said I won’t do it, not that you can’t use the workshop. Besides… why insist on making me do it when you’re better at it than me? If it’s your companion, you should take care of it yourself.”
“…I apologize.”
Scolding Aslan, Frida noticed him turning to look at Ereta with an awkward smile. Ereta watched both Aslan and Frida with deep concern, her emotions unclear, prompting Frida to snicker.
“Why, are you scared now that you’re getting it? Honestly, I doubt someone like you can endure the procedure. It’s not just a regular kind of pain.”
Mocking words from Frida made Aslan flinch and caused Ereta to blink.
Amidst her deep concerns, a faint flicker of anticipation danced at the corner of Ereta’s lips.
*
Workshop. Though it was Aslan’s first time entering the workshop, he quickly understood its structure and utility.
Well, Aslan, possessing unparalleled mastery in magical artifacts, couldn’t possibly misunderstand.
“Doing this in proper facilities is new to me.”
Still, it felt awkward. Aslan touched the tattoo on his own arm while signaling to Ereta, who was wrapped in cloth.
“First…time?”
“My tattoos, I carved them myself, in the forest.”
Saying this, Aslan flipped his hand, and recognizing the gesture, Ereta turned over. Her compressed breast peeked slightly through the cloth covering her body. Barely wearing anything beyond a single sheet, Ereta was practically naked.
“By yourself?”
“Yes, by myself.”
Aslan picked up a needle tinged with a bluish hue while concentrating. He swirled the needle in a jar full of molten blue iron before pulling it out, leaving streaks of blue light.
Using the needle, he pierced the molten blue iron into the skin. Ereta shuddered as a sudden, intense pain seeped into her spine.
The acute pain traveled along Ereta’s spine, sending sharp vibrations to her brain before settling in her lower abdomen.
Thanks to Aslan’s high proficiency in magical artifacts and extensive knowledge of magic, the intricate artistry slowly unfurled on Ereta’s exposed back.
Each time the sharp pain swept through her body, Ereta unconsciously emitted sweet moans, pressing her thighs together. Between them, moisture flowed, causing her to exhale softly.
A certain organ in her lower abdomen throbbed as if responding to the pain. Clutching her lower abdomen, Ereta resisted the creeping pleasure and spoke.
“Why…did you do something like that?”
“Hmm?”
Focused on carving the tattoo, Aslan paused momentarily upon hearing Ereta’s question, contemplating. Though the memory was hazy from long ago, it soon surfaced.
“I nearly died. I needed magic. I had several scrolls, but their activation probability was low, and the side effects were severe. I needed a tattoo that could reliably activate the scroll’s magic and suppress its side effects.”
The memory was vivid even now. Recalling it, Aslan moved the needle smoothly over Ereta’s smooth skin, eliciting soft moans from her.
Breathing heavily and gazing with half-lidded eyes, Ereta unknowingly asked,
“Did it hurt…you?”
“Yeah, it did. But it was better than dying.”
From his tone, Ereta sensed a detached calmness. She was surprised yet worried about Aslan’s insensitivity to pain, unsure if it was truly a good thing.
Suppressing her breath, Ereta twitched her hips, and Aslan covered her exposed buttocks with the cloth that had slipped.
To redirect her thoughts, Aslan spoke.
“Why did you want a mana tattoo?”
Breathing heavily, Ereta reacted belatedly to the question.
“Such…a sensitive question… Can’t you refrain from asking?”
In short, she found it embarrassing and wished he wouldn’t ask.
However, Aslan remained silent. Under the weight of his unspoken pressure, Ereta clutched her lower abdomen and spoke.
“I didn’t…want to be abandoned.”
“Abandoned?”
“Yes.”
She slowly blinked her pink eyes. She had already been abandoned by a god once. Having experienced it, she thought it wouldn’t be strange if it happened again. She obsessively sought her worth.
Watching Aslan mercilessly handle evil deities and priests, she worried that if she became useless, she might meet the same fate.
Choking slightly, Ereta swallowed and continued.
“I didn’t want to be abandoned by Aslan. I wouldn’t be able to endure it.”
Her heated breath carried these words, causing Aslan’s hand to pause briefly. Looking at the mana tattoo he was engraving on her skin, Aslan glanced at Ereta.
Her upper body exposed, delicate trembling running down her slender spine, Aslan observed all these physical signs before reaching out. Gently stroking the back of Ereta’s head, he consoled her.
Once calmed, the subtle trembling ceased, and Aslan resumed the procedure.
As the tattoo gradually blossomed, silence enveloped them. Despite the embarrassment of exposing her bare skin, Ereta’s cheeks flushed red. Yet, every time Aslan’s hands or the needle touched her, she exhaled softly, almost whispering.
The silence broke a while later, nearing the end of the procedure, when Ereta spoke.
“Am I…am I allowed to stay by Aslan’s side?”
Her face was hidden, her expression unreadable. But Aslan felt he could guess it—a deeply troubled frown.
“What makes you think you’re not?”
Taken aback by the question, Ereta hesitated but thought about it.
Someone kind and considerate to everyone.
A resolute man who never bowed to any tragedy.
A relentless warrior advancing toward his goal.
A flawless master without a single flaw.
Summing all these traits into one word, it was fitting.
“An extraordinary person.”
Ereta sighed more despondently.
Thinking about it further, she increasingly felt she shouldn’t remain by Aslan’s side. The differences between her and Aslan were too vast.
Moved by sadness at this realization, Ereta murmured unconsciously.
“Am I…allowed to be by your side?”
Aware of the oddity of asking himself this question, Aslan nonetheless answered without scolding her.
“Well, I don’t see why not.”
“Really?”
“It doesn’t matter whether I’m extraordinary or not. You’re the companion I chose. Someone I deemed necessary. That’s enough.”
“Necessary.” Ereta’s lips moved at the word.
Despite the spreading pain along her back, Ereta mulled over Aslan’s words. Naturally, a question arose.
A question about the end.
“If…after everything is over and I don’t wish to receive punishment, and if I develop selfish desires to stay with Aslan…what should I do?”
The end.
That was a deeply contemplative topic for Aslan as well.
Hence, Aslan’s hands paused, and Ereta rolled her eyes noticing the cessation of the sharp pain from behind.
“Isn’t it…possible?”
Her melancholic voice escaped unconsciously. Aslan didn’t answer.
“That’s…something we’ll have to see when we get there.”
He didn’t provide a precise answer.
After all, Aslan was Lee Hyun-woo, someone who eventually had to return.
Hearing Aslan’s response, Ereta quietly closed her eyes. Her damp pink eyes disappeared beneath her eyelids.
Looking at such Ereta, Aslan spoke, striving not to sigh.
“Nevertheless, how you act in the journey ahead and how people perceive you…that depends entirely on you. I’m merely your companion. The future is determined by what you see and decide with your own eyes.”
With those words, the procedure ended. Aslan put down the needle, and the tree-root-like tattoo tracing Ereta’s spine flickered briefly.
Ereta felt the mana and strength flowing through the tattoo, exhaling a choked breath unconsciously.
“It’s done. Try sitting up.”
Opening her tightly shut eyes, Ereta rose. Adjusting the cloth wrapped around her body and pressing her sticky thighs together.
Ignoring the squelching sound of her thighs, she tried to stand up and saw Aslan putting down the melted needle and tidying up the tools.
Unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed his collar.
“Aslan?”
Ereta didn’t know why she had grabbed his collar.
Somehow, she felt a sense of loss.
But she didn’t know exactly what she felt was missing or what she desired.
Swallowing her vague longing as if suppressing it, she told herself.
“Thank you, Aslan.”
Unlike Ereta who swallowed the words without understanding them, Aslan sensed her heated breath.
Yet, he forced a smile and said,
“For what, to this extent?”
Ereta chuckled sorrowfully at his words. It was a smile she didn’t quite understand herself.
