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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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–Clatter.
Aslan picked up the executioner’s sword from amidst the gore splattered across the rocks.
Forged from an unknown, gold-hued metal, the executioner’s sword was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its wide blade razor-sharp, its hilt elongated.
All weapons wielded by War Monks were of exceptional quality, so this was hardly surprising.
Aslan examined the sword, frowning.
“…Hmm.”
The weight of the weapon was substantial.
‘Around five kilograms, I’d say.’
Heavy, even for a typical sword, let alone one designed for executions. But considering the size of its wielder, Aslan understood.
Nearly three meters tall, with six arms.
The long hilt suggested that even a War Monk would wield it with both hands. And he had seen the Collector manipulate it with all six of his arms during their fight.
Five kilograms was nothing for a creature of that size.
Aslan removed the leather scabbard from the War Monk’s corpse, sheathed the sword, and attached it to his belt.
The added weight was noticeable, but not bothersome. His increased Fighting Spirit would offset the fatigue from carrying the heavier weapon.
“Ah.”
Just as he was feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction at acquiring the weapon, Angie let out a cry of disappointment.
Aslan turned to look at her. She was staring at the axe in her hand, her expression filled with regret.
“Damn it, my axe…”
It had been a crude weapon to begin with, so the damage wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the axe Angie had used to strike the War Monk’s back was completely broken, both the head and the handle shattered.
It had been a weapon provided to a rented prisoner, so the broken handle was understandable, but the shattered axe head surprised Aslan. He looked down at the War Monk’s corpse.
The War Monk’s back, the area just below its neck, where Angie’s axe had struck, was caved in, revealing the pink flesh beneath the exoskeleton.
‘To break through a War Monk’s exoskeleton, which is renowned for its toughness, and inflict such significant damage…’
As Aslan stared at the wound in astonishment, Harod, who had been sent flying earlier, approached.
“You actually won. I knew you were strong, but I didn’t expect this…”
“It’s because everything went according to plan.”
“…Indeed. It’s a good thing your plan worked.”
Aslan’s plan had been simple.
Pressure the War Monk, making himself appear as the greater threat, while finding a way to disarm it of its spear and shield.
Once disarmed, Harod would use the captured weapons to create an opening for Angie to join the fight and attack.
While Aslan kept the War Monk occupied, Angie’s attack, or even her mere appearance, would create a moment of distraction, allowing Aslan to finish it off.
While simple in theory, Harod still found it hard to believe it had actually worked.
He hadn’t expected the mere appearance of a slum girl to faze a War Monk, but the Collector had been more startled than he anticipated.
And Angie’s attack had been devastatingly effective, leaving the War Monk with no chance to recover.
Harod looked at the spear embedded in the shield, then at Angela Tail, a newfound respect in his eyes.
‘She wasn’t this strong before… or was she holding back?’
He pondered her strength, then turned to Aslan, who was pulling the broken spear from the shield. Aslan offered the bladed end to Angie.
The weapon was closer to a glaive, with a meter-long shaft and a blade over eighty centimeters long.
“Here. This is yours.”
Angie’s eyes widened as she took the weapon.
“What? This is for me?”
Her voice was filled with uncontainable joy. Aslan nodded.
“You earned it. You deserve something for your efforts.”
What Angie had accomplished was remarkable, even to Aslan.
To land a decisive blow against the oldest and most experienced of the War Monks with a simple hand axe was almost unbelievable.
Even Aslan couldn’t have done it without the aid of his combat skills and perks.
He saw potential in her. While her strength, agility, and inherent dexterity had played a role, it was her instinctive ability to target vital points that truly impressed him.
Considering her stats would continue to grow, this potential would become their greatest asset.
Their key to surviving in Gelladrion.
Compared to that, a glaive was a paltry reward.
Aslan handed the remaining portion of the broken spear, a shaft just over a meter long, to Harod.
“What are you going to do now?”
Harod took the shaft, turning it over in his hands.
“Well, I was thinking of heading towards the Calus Empire.”
“And what would you have me do?”
Aslan finally looked up at Harod Claw. The Dragonkin’s gaze was serious.
“That’s for you to decide.”
Harod grunted, seemingly expecting Aslan to travel with him.
But Aslan couldn’t. Harod was unlikely to be of much help in future main quests.
At best, he would be a meat shield, and Aslan didn’t want that.
‘I’d rather not cause unnecessary casualties.’
His goal was to resolve things with as little injury and death as possible. Parting ways was the best way to achieve that in Gelladrion, a world often filled with violence.
So, Aslan’s next words were a farewell.
“I told you from the beginning. Your reward for helping me is your freedom. And you’ve earned it.”
Considering that Harod was a Claw, and that he had been found in Olpasbet, Aslan added,
“There are many precedents for exiled Claws returning to Belus Alpen. It might seem impossible now, but if you build your reputation and earn enough renown, you’ll be able to return.”
Harod Claw, despite his normally impassive Dragonkin features, looked surprised.
Aslan, seeing his reaction, continued,
“How do I know? Because most Claws you find outside Belus Alpen are exiles. And considering you were a prisoner, it’s even more likely.”
“Hmm… I see.”
Harod looked slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t question Aslan’s words, seemingly lost in thought.
Aslan, feeling he wouldn’t be interrupted further, opened the system window.
[Active Main Quests]
[None]
[Completed Main Quests]
[ ! Defeat the Priest and Survive]
[LEVEL UP]
As expected, he had leveled up. Aslan distributed the stat points evenly.
Strength, Agility, and Vitality for Angie.
Mana, Fighting Spirit, and Luck for himself.
He felt the flow of mana within him intensify, and the lingering fatigue completely vanished.
He didn’t feel the effects of the Luck stat yet, but that wasn’t unusual.
Angie also seemed to sense something, her shoulders twitching before she suddenly turned her head.
She was looking at the severed head of the War Monk.
The War Monk’s multifaceted eyes were wide open, staring at Aslan and Angie.
Aslan suddenly felt it – a faint presence, like a gentle caress.
It was coming from above.
He looked up at the sky. He couldn’t see anything, but the feeling intensified.
He understood what the dead War Monk was doing.
It was whispering to its god, telling it about the vestige of the Old Gods and the Master of Battle.
A futile effort. The gods would have already sensed the surge of the Old God’s power.
A sense of foreboding, like something looming just beyond the sky, washed over Aslan.
“…What’s wrong?”
Harod asked, seeing his reaction. Aslan didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the sky.
‘…The effect of the Luck stat.’
A tingling sensation spread through him. Aslan felt the gazes of the gods, his intuition screaming.
This was the true beginning of the main quest line. Just like in the game.
Aslan smiled wryly, remembering the reason.
It was the reason why the gods, who had once left their mark on the world, slaughtering countless humans and Old Gods, now only interfered through their priests.
The Goddess of Grief and Death, the last of the Old Gods and ruler of the underworld, realizing she was about to be killed, decided to seal the world.
Before her death, she gathered the souls of her fellow Old Gods, her comrades-in-arms.
Death itself was her power, and she was stronger than ever before. Strong enough to seal the world before she died.
But her power wasn’t enough. The gods were too strong.
The world was only partially sealed, and the gods could still interact with it through their priests, through the narrow channels they had managed to maintain.
The gods wanted to fully reopen the world, and they needed the power of the Old Gods to do so.
The only remaining power of the Old Gods.
And now, the gods would be coming for Angie, the girl who possessed that power.
‘And the War God will be the first to make a move.’
Aslan had a feeling he would encounter the War God’s messenger soon.
He was right.
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The sound of armored figures running, the pounding of hooves against the earth, echoed through the forest.
The sounds resolved into a group of soldiers, a knight, and several mages on horseback.
‘Surrounded.’
Harod frowned, peering through the bushes. Angie looked annoyed.
Only Aslan remained calm.
The mages dismounted, channeling their mana. The knight, still mounted, gestured to the soldiers.
The soldiers, clad in chainmail, tightened the encirclement, their weapons raised.
Aslan saw him then.
A man with platinum blond hair swept back from his forehead, a neatly trimmed mustache and beard.
He wore a short fur cloak over his shoulders and a gleaming black doublet.
The man stepped forward, past the soldiers.
He cleared his throat, then addressed Aslan, Angie, and Harod, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Greetings. Would you mind having a word with me?”
Aslan didn’t reply. He simply raised a hand, shielding Angie and Harod, his gaze lowered.
“I apologize for this… sudden encirclement. I hope you aren’t too offended. My name is Cornil Ashuld of House Ashuld.”
Receiving no response, the man, who had introduced himself as Cornil Ashuld, smiled, his gaze fixed on the shadows where Aslan and the others were hidden.
It was a relaxed, almost smug, smile.
“Hmm, I see you’re not in the mood for pleasantries. That’s understandable, considering the circumstances. But these are simply precautions for my safety. I hope you understand. Now then… let’s get down to business!”
He clapped his hands together lightly, his smile widening.
“We detected a powerful energy signature in this area. A signature we couldn’t ignore. I might not look it, but I’m an Imperial Investigator. My duty is to investigate suspicious activity within the Empire and report my findings. I’m here on official business.”
It was a long explanation that boiled down to a simple accusation: You’re suspicious, and I’m going to investigate.
Cornil Ashuld, wanting to drive his point home, added,
“So, would you mind showing yourselves and cooperating with my investigation? I’d like to hear your testimonies.”
His smile was confident, almost arrogant.
Aslan considered his words.
He knew this man. Knew that everything he was saying was a lie.
So he hesitated.
Because the next main quest would begin because of this man.
Specifically, because of his elaborate betrayal.
A betrayal Aslan knew was coming. He knew the how, the why, the who, even the man’s backers. It held no fear for him.
In fact, he could list numerous ways to exploit the situation before the betrayal occurred.
So he hesitated.
Finally, he gestured to the girl.
Angie stepped out of the bushes first, followed by Aslan, emerging from the shadows.
As they stepped forward, Angie in front, Aslan behind, Cornil Ashuld smiled, extending his hand.
“Ah, you’ve finally decided to show yourselves. There’s no need to be afraid. These men are simply my escorts…”
His triumphant expression faltered as his gaze shifted from Angie to Aslan.
His words caught in his throat, as if dammed by a sudden surge of shock and fear. His smile crumbled.
His face contorted in a mixture of astonishment, confusion, and terror.
He finally spoke, his voice filled with disbelief,
“The… the Emperor’s assassin?”
Aslan sighed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
It was a casual gesture, as if he was simply resting his hand, but Cornil Ashuld swallowed hard, his eyes filled with unease.
Aslan watched the fear spread across Cornil Ashuld’s face like a contagion and spoke softly,
“Go on.”
Silence descended. No sound of weapons being drawn, no nervous coughs, just a complete and utter silence.
Aslan tilted his head, gesturing towards Cornil Ashuld with his chin.
“Tell me, what does the Emperor’s Hound want?”
The man’s eyes, wide with fear, flickered at the title.
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System Notification 