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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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As Cornil Ashuld watched, his face tense, Harod Claw stepped forward from the shadows.
He carried a dented but sturdy steel shield and a broken spear shaft, remnants of his former weapon.
The sight of the nearly two-meter-tall, red-scaled Dragonkin, fully armed, was undeniably intimidating. For a fleeting moment, the soldiers’ attention shifted to Harod.
But it was brief. Their gazes quickly returned to Aslan.
Aslan, seeing this, tilted the hilt of his sword further.
‘They know who I am.’
He had expected a few of the soldiers to be distracted by Harod, but every single one of them, including the mage and the knight, remained focused on him.
They clearly knew he was the Master of Battle.
He had thought there might be a few uninformed individuals among them, but it seemed he was wrong.
“And who are you?”
Angie muttered, but the soldiers ignored her.
Aslan, realizing they couldn’t identify the vestige of the Old Gods within her, stepped towards Cornil, the soldiers’ gazes following his every move.
Cornil flinched at Aslan’s approach and words, his breath catching in his throat.
“Imperial Investigator. What do you want?”
This situation must have been completely unexpected for Cornil Ashuld.
He couldn’t have anticipated encountering the Master of Battle.
He stared at Aslan, his lips pressed together as if trying to make sense of the situation, then finally spoke.
“…I’d appreciate your cooperation with my investigation.”
It was an unexpected answer. Aslan frowned, his displeasure evident.
He had sensed Cornil’s intention to betray him.
‘Is he insane?’
Was he that confident his scheme wouldn’t be discovered, or did he have something else up his sleeve?
Aslan, unsure, shifted his grip from the pommel to the hilt of his sword, the weight of the weapon familiar in his hand.
Ready to draw at a moment’s notice, Aslan anticipated Cornil’s next words.
‘I’m simply fulfilling my duty as an Imperial Investigator. I merely wish to hear your testimony, there’s no need for alarm.’
Cornil’s words were almost identical to his prediction.
“As you know, I’m an Imperial Investigator. It’s my duty to investigate unusual phenomena within the Empire. But I’m not here to accuse you of anything. I simply wish to hear your testimony, there’s no need for alarm.”
Aslan, hearing Cornil Ashuld’s words, almost identical to the dialogue from the game, replied curtly,
“Testimony about what?”
“I can’t… disclose that here. I have to maintain confidentiality.”
“And if you can’t tell me here, where do you intend to take us?”
Aslan’s tone was sullen. Angie, sensing his displeasure, placed her hand on her weapon, watching the exchange nervously.
Harod, his eyes darting back and forth, was trying to follow the conversation.
Even they, who didn’t know Cornil, could sense his unease and hesitation.
Cornil finally answered,
“I… I believe Aslan is deeply involved in this… unusual phenomenon. Therefore, I’d like you to accompany me to the Ashuld Barony.”
Aslan scoffed.
“Not all the way to the capital?”
Cornil’s eyes widened in surprise. Aslan saw the knight and soldiers behind him tense, their weapons raised slightly.
He watched them calmly, then tightened his grip on his sword hilt.
Cornil, observing Aslan’s reaction, thought to himself,
‘How does he know all this?’
‘Should I attack now?’
Cornil Ashuld was a mage, a mage of the Manifestation school, confident in his abilities.
He believed he could take down even a Dragonkin with a well-prepared spell.
But the Master of Battle?
Especially with a companion carrying a vestige of the Old Gods?
Cornil Ashuld couldn’t guarantee his own survival. He swallowed, beginning to channel his mana. Aslan’s cold gaze met his.
Cornil flinched.
Those sharp, piercing eyes held a hint of killing intent. A chilling coldness.
Just as Cornil was about to swallow again, Aslan’s expression softened.
“Don’t worry. We’ll come with you.”
“…What?”
Cornil’s eyes widened in disbelief.
He couldn’t understand.
Aslan seemed to have seen through his scheme, yet he was agreeing to go with him. It didn’t make sense.
‘Could it be… he didn’t realize?’
Perhaps he didn’t know what Cornil was looking for, why he was doing this, and had simply reacted with a threat.
‘If so, that’s even better. I can deceive him and…’
Cornil was about to relax when…
“The vestige of the Old Gods you’re looking for.”
Aslan’s words, and his sudden approach, made Cornil freeze.
“Is me.”
Aslan stood before him, close enough to touch.
Cornil Ashuld’s breath hitched at Aslan’s words.
“You… you knew all along…”
Aslan didn’t reply. He simply tilted the hilt of his sword, ready to draw and strike.
The mage, barely middle-aged, his face pale, struggled internally, then closed his eyes.
“V-very well. Let’s go.”
Aslan stepped back.
Cornil Ashuld rubbed his neck, his breath ragged.
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Aslan had made the decision to join them unilaterally, but Harod didn’t object.
In fact, he readily agreed, as if he had wanted to all along.
The problem was Angie. She didn’t seem to understand why they were doing this.
But she didn’t ask.
Confusion was written all over her face, and she was clearly curious, but she remained silent.
Aslan seemed to know the man in charge, and the soldiers clearly feared him.
She assumed he would explain eventually, and he did.
They walked, surrounded by soldiers.
They stopped as the sun began to set.
“Aslan, we’ll set up camp here… is that alright with you?”
Cornil Ashuld, who had been leading the procession, approached Aslan, who was in the center of the group. Aslan nodded.
“Aren’t these soldiers under your command, Imperial Investigator? You don’t need my permission.”
Cornil Ashuld’s face twitched at Aslan’s dismissive tone, but he quickly masked his annoyance and returned to his men.
Aslan, looking at the rising moon and the occasional glimpses of rainforest, guessed they were near the Candlevil Barony.
The Candlevil Barony was one of two baronies in the southern part of Count Scholunkund’s territory.
Compared to the other southern barony, the Liril Barony, which was impoverished due to high taxes and frequent raids by North Empire pillagers, Candlevil was relatively prosperous.
While it still had its slums and its share of minor nobles struggling to maintain their status, it was a territory that could afford to accommodate guests.
The fact that they were camping instead of staying within the city of Candlevil, however, told Aslan that there were internal power struggles even within the same empire, within the same faction worshipping the War God.
They likely didn’t want to risk revealing that they had the vestige of the Old Gods in their custody.
It wasn’t unusual. Even groups united by a common goal were still prone to internal divisions.
And Aslan had no complaints.
The problem was the location of their campsite.
It was nestled among several hills, with a rainforest to the south.
A sea breeze blew in from beyond the rainforest, rustling the leaves and sweeping through the campsite.
The wind carried the scent of salt.
And another, fainter scent, that Aslan picked up amidst the sea breeze.
His Hunting skill, maxed out from years of practice, identified the source of the scent.
Aslan quietly gathered Angie, who was dozing off, and Harod, and slipped away from the campsite.
No one noticed the Master of Battle and the girl disappear. He hadn’t made any particular effort to conceal their departure.
Something else had happened.
One of the soldiers, standing guard with his weapon drawn, suddenly collapsed.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
As the soldier next to him bent down to help his comrade, he felt a strange sensation, as if something was stirring within his skull.
“What the…”
–Thump.
After the two soldiers collapsed, the others began to fall, one by one.
Sometimes in groups, sometimes individually.
As the soldiers lay scattered across the campsite, something appeared at the entrance.
Monsters.
Their backs hunched, their spines grotesquely protruding, their chests and bellies bloated like drowned corpses.
Their faces were a disturbing fusion of a kindly grandmother’s features and insectoid characteristics, multiple multifaceted eyes peering out from between the wrinkles.
Their long, thin arms ended in wickedly curved claws.
One of the creatures picked up a fallen soldier. Its mouth opened, revealing a long, thin tongue.
Even from a distance, Cornil Ashuld could guess its purpose.
It was a tongue designed to pierce skulls and devour brains.
“N-no… please… d-don’t…”
The soldier, scratched by the monster’s sharp claws, woke up, his face contorted in terror at the sight of the approaching tongue. Other monsters were entering the campsite, some picking up unconscious soldiers.
Just as the soldier whimpered in fear…
–Thwack!
The monster’s tongue, and its head, split in two.
The severed head flew through the air, landing on the ground with a soft thud. The soldier, released from the monster’s grip, fell face-first into the mud.
–Crack!
The sound of fighting reached the soldier’s ears as he lay face down in the mud.
The heavy thud of a blade cutting through flesh, the sound of something being crushed.
The sounds continued for a few moments, then stopped, replaced by the sound of something fleeing.
As the soldier struggled to get up, someone spoke.
“Are you alright?”
A hand helped him up, brushing the mud from his face.
It was Aslan.
The Master of Battle, the man known within the Calus Empire as the Emperor’s assassin.
The man with black hair and teal eyes helped the soldier lean against a tree.
The soldier, feeling Aslan applying something to his wounds, moved his lips, trying to speak.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Apply this to your wounds.”
The soldier stammered,
“Th-thank you…”
Aslan smiled, then stood up. Just then, someone came running from the campsite.
Cornil Ashuld, finally realizing what had happened.
Aslan, seeing Cornil approach, gestured to those around him.
“Aslan, what was…”
“Hags. There’s a nest nearby. A large number of them attacked. I’ll take my companions and track them, find their nest. Imperial Investigator, I’ll leave the injured and the mana detection to you.”
Cornil froze at Aslan’s instructions, which were delivered before he could even ask a question. Aslan smiled slightly.
It was something Cornil would have done anyway, but by phrasing it as an order, Aslan made it seem like Cornil was acting on his instructions.
Cornil’s face darkened as he realized this, and Aslan turned and headed in the direction the hags had fled.
The soldiers, unlike the knight, weren’t likely to be nobles.
They were probably commoners.
And Cornil Ashuld wasn’t a charismatic leader. His soldiers were likely motivated by pay, not loyalty or political gain.
That was what Aslan was aiming for.
A preemptive measure against Cornil Ashuld’s betrayal.
To earn the soldiers’ favor, to sway their loyalty.
The hag attack had been a fortunate coincidence.
Aslan entered the forest, Angie and Harod following close behind.
The bloodstains of the dismembered monsters glistened in the moonlight.
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