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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Mud trolls were unique creatures, unlike their typical troll counterparts, who were known for their regenerative abilities and foul stench.
Mud trolls had degenerated eyesight, relying primarily on their sense of smell and hearing. Their eyes were bloodshot, and their noses were large and flared. Their ears were long and pointed, angled outwards to better capture sounds.
Beyond their appearance, their habits, diet, and even their blood differed from ordinary trolls.
Their blood was acidic.
Aslan held the longsword in his left hand at an angle and gripped the mace tightly in his right.
Bladed weapons weren’t effective against mud trolls. Their acidic blood quickly corroded metal, and coupled with their numbers, a broken weapon meant certain death.
The mace, however, was a good choice. Aslan advanced on the trolls, calculating the distance between them.
‘Fifteen meters to three, twenty meters to one.’
Three two-meter-tall trolls, their backs hunched, followed by a smaller one lagging behind. Aslan continued his approach.
–Growl.
The trolls’ low growls mixed with
–Thud, thud.
The sound of Aslan’s approaching footsteps. The distance closed. When he was barely two meters from the nearest troll…
Aslan pivoted on his forward foot and leaped back.
–Slam!
The troll, having lunged forward, slammed its fists down where Aslan had been standing a moment before. Aslan calmly turned, swinging the mace upwards.
–Thwack!
–Crack!
The mace connected with the troll’s jaw, sending a spray of acidic blood into the air. Aslan didn’t bother to bring the mace back down, instead resting it on his shoulder and turning.
–Swish!
The longsword followed, a blur of motion. The single-edged blade sliced through the troll’s knee, sending it stumbling back, hindering its companions.
Aslan looked up, reassessing the distance to the remaining trolls.
‘Perfect.’
He brought the mace down from his shoulder with surprising force for his size and speed.
–Crunch!
The troll’s skull caved in, spraying acidic brain matter and bits of bone across the ground.
–Roar!
The two remaining trolls charged. Aslan glanced at each of them, then moved swiftly.
There was no need for minor spells.
He had enough tools at his disposal.
He thrust the mace towards the face of the first troll. The upward thrust shattered its jaw. The troll clutched its mangled face, reeling in pain.
“Haa…”
Aslan took a quick breath and turned towards the other troll, which was charging from the right. He swung the longsword in a short, sharp arc. A low blow.
“Huu…”
The blade slammed into the troll’s ankle with a sickening crunch. As the troll stumbled, Aslan exhaled, pulling the sword free and delivering a swift kick. The troll lost its balance and fell.
–Slash!
He swung the longsword again as he stepped back. The blade sliced cleanly through the troll’s throat, severing its head. The head rolled across the ground, leaving a trail of acidic blood and a pungent stench.
–Sizzle.
The blood hissed as it touched the ground and the longsword. Aslan glanced at the corroding blade, then turned his attention to the smallest troll, the one that had been lagging behind. He flicked the longsword.
A spray of acidic blood, mixed with molten metal from the corroding blade, splattered across the small troll’s face as it charged. The creature flinched.
Barely a second. Not even enough time to call it an opening. But it was enough for Aslan.
–Crack!
He lunged forward, closing the distance, and brought the mace down. The smaller, juvenile mud troll died instantly, its meager brains splattering across Aslan’s shoulder.
Ignoring the dead troll and the guttural sounds coming from behind him, Aslan reversed his grip on the longsword, turning swiftly.
The troll with the crushed face was charging again, its movements erratic in its frenzy. Its unstable posture made it easy to knock off balance with a well-placed strike.
Aslan swept his leg, catching the troll’s ankle with the reversed blade. The troll tripped, crashing to the ground face-first.
–Gurgle.
The troll let out a choked sound as Aslan brought the mace down, crushing its skull.
The mace, having now shattered three skulls, was slightly corroded, emitting a metallic stench. Aslan wiped it clean and tucked it back into his belt.
“…Huh.”
Fifteen seconds, give or take. That’s how long the fight had lasted.
No one had a timer, but they could all tell it had been incredibly fast.
Harod Claw, his two subordinates, and Angie stared at Aslan, their expressions varying. Only Harod, with his different facial musculature, showed little outward reaction.
But it was Harod who was the most shocked. He glanced at the dead trolls, then at the weapon in his hand.
A large, single-edged, two-handed sword. A good weapon. One he was familiar with.
‘…If I had fought them…’
Even with this weapon, Harod Claw knew he couldn’t have fought like that.
Even with superior strength or special abilities, he couldn’t replicate that level of efficiency.
It was extreme efficiency in its purest form.
Choosing the most effective course of action from countless possibilities in the heat of battle, and executing those actions flawlessly.
That was what he had just witnessed.
Harod couldn’t help but speak, his voice filled with awe.
“Master of Battle…”
Aslan looked up at the sound of his voice. Harod’s subordinates looked up as well, their expressions confused.
Ekul, the dark-skinned man, had been born and raised in a village within Count Warfall’s territory. To him, the title “Great One” held a clear and distinct meaning. Carlson, though from a different region, understood its significance as well.
A Great One could kill anyone in the world, given the right circumstances.
A Great One could face a priest unarmed.
A Great One’s skills transcended human comprehension.
These rumors and legends filled their minds as they looked at Aslan.
Aslan stood silently, his longsword still in his left hand, his teal eyes filled with a subtle weariness.
He didn’t deny it.
That silent affirmation filled them with awe.
“Have you decided?”
Aslan finally spoke. He sheathed his longsword.
“If you refuse my offer, I’ll have to eliminate you as well.”
His casual tone was chilling. A shiver ran down their spines.
“Are you the Master of Battle?”
Except for Harod.
He asked the question with a newfound calmness.
Aslan stared at the Dragonkin.
They stood close enough to touch, but Harod Claw’s tail was lowered, his fighting spirit quelled.
“…If it helps you decide, then yes.”
His gaze swept over them, his eyes deceptively languid.
“I am the Master of Battle.”
Harod stepped forward.
He could now accept his defeat.
He understood the gap between them.
He bowed his head.
“I accept your offer.”
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They continued through the mines, fighting trolls along the way.
Harod Claw fought with a ferocity that belied his previous reluctance, and his subordinates pulled their weight.
Even Angie managed to crush a few troll skulls with her axe.
[LEVEL UP]
They stopped after Aslan leveled up.
Aslan, his longsword, now almost completely dissolved, still embedded in the skull of the last troll they had killed, stopped and stared at the system window that had appeared.
‘Finally.’
Twelve years since he arrived in Eternal Dominion, Aslan had been stuck at level one.
The monsters in Gelladrion were formidable, and he had faced death countless times.
It had been a grueling, agonizing, and painful experience.
So this moment was precious, almost moving.
Aslan closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
Eternal Dominion was a game where the main character level could only increase by progressing through the main quest line.
Having been locked out of the main quests, Aslan had been forced to survive at level one.
‘But not anymore.’
As the player leveled up, their character gained superhuman abilities.
Aslan, who had survived and silenced countless priests at level one, rejoiced at the thought of finally becoming the predator, not the prey. He addressed his companions.
“Let’s stop here for today and set up camp.”
“…Here?”
The Dragonkin asked, his tone now respectful, looking around.
A large cavern, with long tunnels branching off in either direction.
Not an ideal campsite, by any conventional standard.
Especially not in a mine.
“Not to question your judgment, but isn’t this area too exposed?”
The Dragonkin trailed off, implying the danger of being ambushed. His subordinates exchanged awkward glances.
It was strange to see the Dragonkin, who usually spoke to the guards with casual disdain, so respectful.
But his concern was valid. They looked around nervously.
Only Angie remained impassive, her gaze fixed on Aslan.
He understood their apprehension. He wouldn’t be so confident about camping here if he hadn’t played the game.
If this location hadn’t been the tutorial area for setting up camp.
Of course, he couldn’t say that, so he fabricated an explanation.
“They don’t usually come this far. The concentration of toxins in the earth is too low here.”
“Is that so? Then…”
The Dragonkin didn’t argue further. Fatigue was setting in.
His subordinates, though still uneasy, didn’t voice their concerns. Aslan’s display of superhuman combat prowess had earned their trust, or at least their silence.
With no objections, they set up a simple camp. Since they were in a mine, they couldn’t build a large fire. They simply laid out their bedrolls and prepared to rest.
As his companions settled down to sleep, Aslan, volunteering for the first watch, closed his eyes and sat down.
He began to meditate.
Meditation, a perk gained at level 20 of the Survival skill, allowed him to achieve the restorative effects of eight hours of sleep with only four hours of meditation.
While he knew there were no monsters to ambush them, it was meditation that allowed Aslan to volunteer for the watch.
What felt like a brief moment, but was actually four hours, passed, and Aslan opened his eyes.
His vision was clear. He felt some mental fatigue, but that was chronic and unavoidable. He immediately checked the location of his weapons and looked at his companions.
Harod, his large frame barely covered by the small bedroll, and Angie, tossing and turning, muttering in her sleep as if plagued by nightmares, were otherwise fine.
Aslan looked back and forth between them, then raised his gaze.
They had rested enough. It was time to do what he had come here for.
Aslan opened the system window.
The translucent window flickered to life, filled with text, symbols, and collapsed menus.
[Active Main Quests]
[Escape with Angela Tail]
Aslan glanced at the active main quest, then tapped the “Character” menu.
‘Best to increase Strength and Vitality first.’
Each level-up granted three stat points. Aslan considered which of the six stats to increase, looking at the updated window.
A pale, simplified human figure, and beside it, several elongated bars.
Stats like Health, Mana, and Stamina, as well as more detailed ones like Fatigue, Hunger, and Thirst. Aslan selected a bar and dragged it downwards.
What he saw wasn’t what he expected.
So unexpected, in fact, that Aslan’s eyes widened, and his hand froze in midair.
“What?”
Eternal Dominion had several stats.
Strength, which governed physical power. Agility, which encompassed dexterity, movement, flexibility, and reflexes. Vitality, which determined physical resilience and regeneration.
Then there was Mana, which allowed the use of magic and increased its effectiveness. Fighting Spirit, which governed the use of special combat skills and increased stamina. And Luck, which affected drop rates, dodge chance, and critical hit chance.
Six stats in total.
[Aslan]
[■] [■■] [■■]
[Mana] [Fighting Spirit] [Luck]
[Remaining Points: 3]
But beneath his name, only three stats were displayed.
The other three were blackened and distorted.
Aslan stared at the blacked-out section where Strength should have been and pressed it.
‘Nothing’s happening.’
His remaining points didn’t decrease, and he didn’t feel any stronger.
Confused by this anomaly, Aslan calmly selected the Mana stat, which appeared normal.
[Remaining Points: 2]
The points decreased, and he felt a strange energy coursing through his body, emanating from his heart and brain, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Mana was working correctly.
Luck and Fighting Spirit probably would too.
He couldn’t understand it, but the phenomenon was clear. As Aslan was about to accept this strange reality…
“…H-huaagh!”
Angie screamed, jolting awake.
Despite the loud scream, his other companions remained asleep. He only caught a glimpse of Angie, covered in sweat, sitting up, beyond the system window.
She gasped for breath, then slowly raised her head, meeting Aslan’s gaze.
Fear shone in her golden eyes.
As Aslan was about to speak…
[Aslan] [Angela Tail]
A new name appeared next to his.
‘…What?’
Aslan forgot what he was going to say, mesmerized. He instinctively reached out and tapped the new name.
[Angela Tail]
[Strength] [Agility] [Vitality]
[■■] [■■] [■]
[Remaining Points: 3]
Another window appeared, this one the exact opposite of his.
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