—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“…Then, let’s part ways here.”
Aslan clapped his hands together, his voice devoid of any emotion. His companions reacted with a mixture of expressions.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
The first to speak was Carlson, the bald man, his face etched with confusion. He scratched his head at Aslan’s immediate reply, then glanced at the others.
“May I ask why…?”
“I said I’d travel with you until we escaped, not that I’d continue with you afterwards.”
Aslan replied curtly to Ekul’s question, hooking his thumbs into his belt and shifting his weight.
“Thanks to you, I was able to escape while dealing with the trolls easily, but wasn’t that the plan all along? You got the freedom you wanted, and I got what I wanted. Seems like a fair trade.”
His dismissive tone remained emotionless.
He gestured towards a part of the forest.
“Go. There should be a village nearby. Head further south, and you’ll reach Candlevil.”
They hesitated, considering his words. Aslan sighed, anticipating their concerns.
“Sell what you have, find a place to stay, become mercenaries, I don’t care.”
They were still escaped prisoners. While the restraints were gone, and their attire now resembled that of ragged mercenaries rather than prisoners, their status remained.
So, only after Aslan’s reassurance did they finally leave. They didn’t want to risk being captured again.
After the two men disappeared into the forest, following the direction Aslan had indicated, Harod Claw, his red scales partially covered by a simple cloak, shifted his stance.
He stood his ground, as if unwilling to leave. Aslan watched him, his teal eyes seemingly indifferent.
Despite having anticipated Harod’s decision to stay, Aslan feigned surprise, raising an eyebrow.
“Why aren’t you going with them? Weren’t they your subordinates?”
“They were my subordinates in Olpasbet. They’re not my kin. I have no obligation to protect them.”
The Dragonkin secured his large two-handed sword to his crude belt.
“Besides, they wouldn’t want to travel with a conspicuous warrior like me. It would increase their risk of being caught.”
While the matter of obligation was irrelevant, his point about being conspicuous was valid.
Harod Claw was a massive Dragonkin, nearly two meters tall, his red scales easily visible even in the forest. The dense foliage couldn’t conceal his large frame.
“So, is there a reason you’re staying? If you have no need to travel with them… Candlevil is that way.”
Aslan pointed towards a forest path behind the Dragonkin.
But the Dragonkin didn’t turn his head, his gaze fixed on Aslan.
“As you’ve heard, my name is Harod Claw. A Claw of Belus Alpen.”
He paused, glancing at Angie, who was standing with her arms crossed, her displeasure evident.
“Though not by birth, I was raised and lived as a warrior. I have a duty to protect Belus Alpen and fight its enemies.”
Aslan knew what Harod was about to say, but he didn’t interrupt.
“And as a Claw, I know a battlefield when I see one. You lied.”
The Dragonkin pointed a finger at Aslan. The fighting in the mines hadn’t been particularly difficult, but that was entirely due to Aslan.
The Master of Battle, as rumored, possessed monstrous strength, protecting them from the trolls and slaying them with terrifying efficiency.
Harod had watched, and he had realized.
“You didn’t need us. Not Carlson, not Ekul, not me, not even… Tail.”
Angie glared at him at the mention of her surname, but the Dragonkin continued, unfazed.
“In fact, without us, you could have escaped faster, attracting less attention from the native monsters. So I couldn’t understand your intentions. It didn’t seem like you were just being charitable, helping some prisoners escape.”
He paused, his unspoken question hanging in the air. Aslan remained silent. Harod, taking his silence as an answer, closed his mouth and stared at the Master of Battle.
Their gazes locked, but there was no hostility between them. Just a careful scrutiny. Finally, Aslan spoke.
“You’re right, Harod Claw.”
Harod exhaled, nodding slightly.
“Ekul and Carlson… I didn’t need them. But I needed them to divert attention, to prevent my true objective from being discovered too quickly. That’s why I brought them along.”
“As I suspected.”
“I also wanted to create a distraction for anyone pursuing me, to delay them or make it harder for them to follow our trail.”
Harod Claw looked up at Aslan’s explanation.
Raindrops glistened on his scales, and his linen cloak was soaked.
Aslan brushed his wet hair back from his forehead. Harod spoke.
“In this mountainous terrain, especially with the rain, I doubt anyone will find your trail. I don’t believe the guards of Olpasbet are skilled enough to track you in such difficult conditions.”
Aslan agreed.
“You’re right. The guards aren’t capable of that.”
To Harod, that easy agreement sounded like a warning. Aslan was wary of someone other than the guards.
But who? Harod frowned. Aslan stepped closer.
He stopped a short distance away, close enough to touch, and looked up, meeting Harod’s gaze.
“I’m wary of the priests. Specifically, the War Monks.”
Harod Claw’s eyes widened. Aslan continued,
“I told you I had a job for you.”
“…You did.”
“I want one thing in exchange for your freedom.”
Aslan extended his hand.
“Help me kill a War Monk.”
While Harod gasped in surprise, Aslan saw it appear in the corner of his vision.
[LEVEL UP]
[Active Main Quests]
[ ! Defeat the Priest and Survive (12 hours remaining)]
[Completed Main Quests]
[Escape with Angela Tail]
His second main quest.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Priests were more than human.
Once the same as the human and demi-human inhabitants of Gelladrion, they were granted powers varying in degree depending on the god they served.
And that power wasn’t limited to physical strength.
Superhuman strength, immense vitality, and the ability to wield the powers bestowed upon them by their gods – they were truly worthy of being called divine messengers.
A skilled priest could single-handedly turn the tide of battle, and a high priest, the sole representative of a god, could change the world.
Even the weakest priest possessed power that far surpassed human limitations.
They weren’t beings that humans could easily overcome.
One couldn’t fight a priest unprepared. Even preparation didn’t guarantee victory.
What was needed was unwavering resolve, some preparation, and a lot of experience.
Fortunately, Aslan possessed all three.
Aslan opened the system window as part of his preparations.
He tapped the translucent screen, his finger hovering over the collapsed text.
He selected it, and the main quest details unfolded.
[Active Main Quests]
[Defeat the Priest and Survive (5 hours remaining)]
The quest was simple: “A priest will arrive in 5 hours. Fight it, defeat it, and survive.”
He had spent seven of the twelve hours resting. That left him five hours to prepare for the upcoming battle.
That preparation included understanding his enemy.
The enemy was a priest.
The type of priest was easy to guess. Even main quests weren’t completely random.
Aslan stood on the Crystal Hills, southwest of Olpasbet. Territory of the War God.
Therefore, the priest would undoubtedly be a War Monk.
Aslan considered the remaining time and mentally reviewed the information he had on War Monks.
War Monks were among the most physically powerful priests.
They possessed high defense and strength, mimicking the physiology of insects, some even having multiple limbs.
They wielded martial skills bestowed upon them by the War God, and they used weapons gifted by their deity.
Monstrously powerful bodies combined with human intellect made them formidable, even terrifying, opponents.
The only saving grace was their lack of other abilities. Aslan considered this information.
‘Each War Monk is different. Generic strategies won’t work.’
He needed to be adaptable, ready for anything.
Fortunately, adaptability was his forte.
Though he did need a few additional resources.
‘To be flexible, no matter what kind of War Monk appears… I need more options.’
Those resources were stat points.
Aslan opened the system window and allocated his points to Mana, Fighting Spirit, and Luck.
As his Mana increased, he felt the energy flowing through him intensify. The boost to Fighting Spirit alleviated some of his fatigue.
He couldn’t feel the effects of Luck yet, but he knew it would come into play during combat.
Aslan tested his body, clenching and unclenching his fists, then tapped Angie’s name next to his.
He allocated her stat points.
One point each to Strength, Agility, and Vitality. The girl, who had been sitting quietly, flinched.
She stood up and walked towards him.
It had happened before. The moment he allocated her points, she seemed to sense it.
Aslan understood why she was approaching.
“Hey.”
The girl spoke.
Aslan closed the system window and looked at her.
Her face was a mask of displeasure, her golden eyes gleaming from beneath her fiery red bangs.
A flicker of suspicion, and a hint of curiosity.
Exactly the amount of curiosity Aslan wanted.
And just as he had hoped, she voiced her question.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
Aslan feigned ignorance. The girl frowned, then spoke,
“What did you do to me?”
To kill a War Monk, he needed adaptability, the ability to react to any situation. And a foundation to build upon.
Aslan felt the final piece of that foundation fall into place. A smile touched his lips.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
