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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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“How did you know?”
Aslan asked. The girl crossed her arms and shifted her weight, her expression troubled.
Her silence was an answer in itself.
“Every time you pointed your finger at nothing, something changed in my body.”
Aslan thought, ‘As expected of a protagonist.’
It would be difficult for anyone to connect his seemingly meaningless gestures with the physical changes she was experiencing. If she hadn’t even considered the possibility, she would have dismissed his actions as nothing more than odd behavior.
But she had noticed, which meant she had suspected him. And that suspicion allowed her to confirm her theory.
Aslan saw her true nature in that suspicion.
A sharp instinct, a keen awareness, reminiscent of a wild animal.
He couldn’t be sure if she had honed this instinct to survive in the slums, if she was born with it, or if it was a gift granted to her as the protagonist.
But sensing that sharp intuition, Aslan knew lying outright would be pointless.
It would be better to be vague about the things he couldn’t explain, or to offer a truth laced with deception.
Having decided on his approach, Aslan began his explanation.
“As you’ve probably guessed, or felt, you’ve become stronger, faster, and more resilient.”
The girl snorted. Aslan pointed to the Dragonkin, who was leaning against a tree a short distance away.
“You’re strong enough now to fight Harod Claw head-on. You might lack the skill, but you have the strength.”
The girl glanced at the Dragonkin, then back at Aslan. The suspicion in her eyes had lessened.
“That’s why your role is crucial in facing the War Monk that’s coming.”
“…Okay, fine. But what did you do to me?”
Aslan lowered his hand, considering his words.
Telling her he had used a system window to increase her stats wouldn’t make sense to a resident of Gelladrion.
So, he simplified his explanation.
“I used magic to stimulate your latent potential. To draw out and enhance your strength.”
The system’s power could be interpreted as magical, and since she was the protagonist, she did possess latent potential. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
He added,
“Of course, I didn’t just draw it out. I integrated the experience you gained fighting and observing the trolls in the mines into your mind and body. I couldn’t have done it without that experience.”
This, too, was true. He couldn’t have increased her stats without her gaining experience and leveling up.
Angie, however, didn’t seem to understand.
“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
She frowned, clearly lost.
Aslan simplified it further.
“The changes in your body are your own power. I… just gave it a little push.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
The superhuman strength and abilities of Eternal Dominion’s protagonist stemmed from absorbing fragments of the Old Gods’ power, but it was still the protagonist’s inherent potential that allowed them to wield that power.
Since Angie was the protagonist, the increase in her physical abilities was undoubtedly due to her own latent potential.
“This is my power?”
Angie frowned, looking down at her hands.
It was understandable. While she felt the changes in her body, there was no outward difference.
But it wasn’t that strange, considering the context of this world.
There were beings in this world who could grant power without altering one’s appearance.
People called them gods, and those chosen by them were called priests.
Angie could be considered a priest without a god.
“To be precise, it’s the power of the Old Gods.”
“…What?”
Angie’s expression shifted from confusion to bewilderment.
The protagonist’s power in Eternal Dominion came from absorbing fragments of the Old Gods’ power.
So, Aslan’s explanation was, in a way, true.
“Exactly. The changes you’ve experienced… are the result of absorbing the power of the Old Gods.”
Angie still looked confused, but Aslan continued,
“That’s why I chose you as my comrade.”
He added,
“And that’s why the War Monk is coming for us. The gods are looking for that power you possess.”
The power of the Old Gods and the protagonist.
Those two elements were the core of Eternal Dominion.
Aslan lowered his gaze. Angie’s expression turned serious.
“I doubt you were planning on escaping this fight, but… you couldn’t have escaped it anyway. This is your fight.”
Even though Aslan possessed some of the protagonist’s qualities and had access to the system window,
The system didn’t recognize him as the protagonist.
The War Monk was coming for Angie, not him.
“I promised Harod Claw his freedom. But I can’t offer you the same reward. This isn’t my fight, and you don’t need anything I have.”
Aslan looked up. Angie’s face was a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
He studied her expression, then spoke softly,
“There’s only one thing I can offer you. A plan to survive.”
“A plan?”
“Yes. A plan you must follow if you want to live.”
Angie hesitated for a moment, then asked,
“What do you want?”
It was as good as an agreement. Aslan smiled and explained his plan.
Angie listened, her face creased with confusion, but Aslan didn’t try to convince her.
He knew she would comply in the end.
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Aslan stood still, feeling a powerful presence approaching through the forest.
The presence was bold, unapologetic, sending animals fleeing in its wake.
Listening to the rustling of leaves, the calls of birds taking flight, the sound of a deer’s hooves pounding against the earth, Aslan and Harod Claw waited, each in their own way, for the forest’s uninvited guest.
“…There you are.”
The intruder, its form unique and unsettling, scanned its surroundings.
As it turned its gaze towards Aslan, its chitinous armor gleamed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.
A towering figure, nearly three meters tall, with six arms, clad in black armor.
A spear slightly longer than its body, and a large rectangular shield.
Both spear and shield were made of solid metal, emitting a faint, metallic, blood-like scent.
Harod Claw, his tension palpable, drew his greatsword at the potent, unmistakable odor.
Aslan, however, remained relaxed, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of the longsword at his belt.
The War Monk, the Collector, raised one of its six hands, which had been gripping its spear, in a casual greeting.
“It’s been a while, Master of Battle. Since the Shrine of Eternal Night, hasn’t it?”
Aslan’s relaxed demeanor vanished, replaced by a frown.
“Have we met?”
“Indeed we have. I was there as well.”
A memory surfaced in Aslan’s mind. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
The Shrine of Eternal Night.
The sanctuary of the last followers of the Goddess of Eternity and Night, one of the principal Old Gods.
A location featured in a mid-game main quest, now completely destroyed.
And the site of one of Aslan’s defeats.
The War Monk, seemingly pleased by Aslan’s obvious discomfort, clicked its mandibles.
“I was disappointed I couldn’t capture you then, but seeing the creatures you’ve slain, I’m not so sure anymore.”
The War Monk’s voice rasped between the clicking sounds.
“Your swordsmanship has improved. You’ve grown stronger. The War God will be pleased with such an offering. Perhaps the War God guided me to let you go, knowing you would become even more worthy.”
Aslan’s expression darkened at the mention of one of his few defeats, then he forced a wry smile, regaining his composure.
“I doubt you came all this way just to reminisce.”
Aslan remembered how the Collector had scanned his surroundings upon arrival.
He was clearly following the energy of the Old Gods.
But the source of that energy, Angie, was nowhere to be seen. It seemed the War Monk was trying to provoke him, hoping to find more clues.
‘How pathetic.’
Aslan scoffed at the attempt, drawing his sword and axe.
The weapons gleamed in the dappled sunlight. Aslan pointed his longsword at the War Monk.
“You’re here for me, aren’t you? So let’s not waste time. Come at me. I plan on enjoying a comfortable evening in the village.”
His tone implied he expected to win.
The War Monk’s multifaceted eyes gleamed as it tilted its head.
Arrogant. But a justified arrogance. The Collector believed the Master of Battle had earned the right to be arrogant.
He calmly leveled his spear at Aslan.
“Let’s see if you can.”
Their gazes locked, Aslan with his weapons raised, the War Monk with its shield forward and spear poised to strike.
A chilling tension filled the air. Harod swallowed hard.
The Great One and the War Monk stared at each other for a moment, then charged.
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–Boom!
A loud crash echoed in the distance. Angie flinched, her eyes darting around from within the bushes.
She couldn’t see anything. Just acorns, fallen leaves, and birds flitting through the branches.
The direction the birds were flying from, however, told her the fight had begun.
Angie huddled deeper into the undergrowth, recalling Aslan’s plan.
‘No matter what happens, don’t interfere. Stay hidden in the bushes. Keep your distance.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Don’t ask questions. Just stay hidden. Don’t let them see you.’
Aslan had explained, then, before Angie could ask any more questions, he had laid out the next stage of his plan.
It was a ridiculous, almost insane plan.
A plan that any sane person would refuse.
But she couldn’t refuse.
Because of Aslan’s promise.
‘If this plan works, we can kill the War Monk with minimal risk.’
She wasn’t sure how convincing it was, but in their short time together, Aslan had proven to be a meticulous planner.
The fights in the mines had unfolded exactly as he predicted, and almost everything else had gone according to his plan as well.
That in itself was persuasive enough. Even though Angie didn’t fully understand, she couldn’t bring herself to disagree.
She frowned, her gaze fixed on the direction of the commotion.
–Crash!
Another loud sound, the splintering of wood, mixed with the whoosh of something cutting through the air.
Angie watched as ancient trees crashed to the ground, her lips pursed in a frown.
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