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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The insectoid carapace beneath Aslan’s fingers. A feature no human should possess.
Aslan felt the chitinous plates and smiled faintly.
He knew what this phenomenon was.
It didn’t have an official name.
In the game’s online communities, players often referred to it as “Partial Priestification.”
It was a rare phenomenon observed among devout followers of a god. A kind of divine favor, a lesser form of priesthood, granted to those chosen by their deity.
A tangible sign of faith, something mere lip service couldn’t achieve.
Aslan smirked, realizing that not only the soldiers, but even the Emperor himself, were utterly devoted to the War God.
They were no longer human.
That’s why they were so eager to capture the vestige of the Old Gods, even willing to disregard the life of their Emperor.
Aslan’s expression turned grim as he shoved the Emperor forward.
–Thwack! Thwack!
“Ugh! Gah!”
Arrows struck the Emperor’s body, some deflecting off his carapace. Aslan listened to the Emperor’s cries of pain and tossed him aside.
–Crash!
A soldier caught the Emperor’s falling body. Aslan instantly charged forward.
“Haa!”
–Crack!
The sickening crunch of bone. The executioner’s sword tore through the soldier’s neck, severing his head.
Before the head even landed, Aslan felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck and turned his head.
–Whoosh!
An arrow whizzed past, narrowly missing where his head had been a moment before. Aslan clicked his tongue, seeing the volley of arrows following in its wake.
Too many arrows, too many archers, and even more soldiers.
The five-kilogram executioner’s sword wasn’t ideal in this situation.
While a deadly weapon, its weight and unwieldy nature made it less effective for defense.
Aslan brought the executioner’s sword down on a soldier charging at him.
–Crack!
The sword cleaved through the soldier’s partially armored head, spraying blood.
Aslan pulled his sword free and reached out, ripping the helmet from the soldier’s head. The soldier’s face, with its multifaceted eyes, was revealed. Aslan swung the helmet.
–Clang!
The helmet struck the soldier’s head. The soldier stumbled, dropping his weapon.
Aslan’s sword flashed.
“Gah!”
The executioner’s sword pierced the soldier’s throat, snapping his neck. The soldier fell backwards, dead before he even hit the ground.
Aslan pushed the body aside and twisted his body, dodging a spear thrust aimed at his stomach.
It had been a deep thrust, meant to impale him. Aslan wanted to counterattack, but…
‘Too many.’
He saw the soldiers behind the spearman, their weapons raised, and decided against it. He dropped to the ground, his body pressed against the floor, avoiding the incoming attacks.
The soldiers’ weapons sliced through the air, missing their target. Aslan’s sword flashed, slicing through their ankles.
–Crack!
The soldiers screamed as their ankles were severed, collapsing to the ground. Aslan grabbed one of the falling bodies, pulling the dagger from his belt.
–Thud!
He plunged the dagger into the soldier’s throat in a single, fluid motion, then pulled the body on top of him, using it as a shield against the arrows raining down from above.
–Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Six arrows. So many that the impacts sounded like rain. Aslan gritted his teeth against the tremors running through the corpse shielding him and shouted,
“Angie!”
Angie, who had just killed a soldier with a swing of her glaive, replied,
“What?!”
“Take out the archers!”
He didn’t tell her how. Aslan braced his foot against the corpse’s stomach, the name of a skill echoing in his mind.
‘Call Lightning.’
–Crackle!
The thunderclap echoed through the chamber as the corpse was launched into the air, its limbs flailing grotesquely, spraying blood.
As the blood splattered against his forehead, Aslan pushed himself off the ground, using the recoil to stand.
‘Call Lightning.’
His third Call Lightning of the day. He reinforced his right leg with wild magic and pressed it firmly against the ground.
–Crackle!
The thunderclap reverberated through the chamber as Aslan was launched into the air. He felt a sense of weightlessness as he shouted,
“Harod, cover me!”
He reached out as he flew, pulling the mana shield, which had been rotating above Harod and Angie, towards him. He landed on the terrace, his foot impacting against the stone.
–Screech!
The archers, seeing him, instantly drew their bows.
Even priests could be killed with a well-placed shot. And Aslan was only human.
His enhanced Luck sent a chilling premonition through him. He raised the executioner’s sword, covering his face.
–Clang!
Arrows struck the flat of the blade, deflecting or shattering. The force of the impacts pushed Aslan back.
His foot slipped from the balustrade. He swung his arm, the shield, still spinning in the air, flying towards him and stopping just behind him.
–Thud!
Aslan stepped onto the shield, using it as a springboard, and raised the executioner’s sword.
–Crack!
He brought the blade down. The archer beneath him screamed, his eyes rolling back as he died. Aslan dropped the sword and twisted his body.
“Gah!”
Another archer charged, an arrow aimed at Aslan. Aslan dodged, twisting away from the projectile, then grabbed the archer’s arm.
–Crash!
He yanked the archer forward, sending him sprawling. Aslan stomped down on his head, his foot enhanced with wild magic, crushing the archer’s skull.
He snatched the arrow from the dead archer’s hand and grabbed the bow from the first archer he had killed. He nocked an arrow and fired at the nearest archer.
–Thwang!
The arrow flew like a streak of lightning, piercing the archer’s throat. The archer gurgled and collapsed. The archer behind him, his face a mask of terror, drew his bow.
Aslan saw the trajectory of the arrow and, guided by a premonition fueled by his Luck stat, ducked low, snatching another arrow from the ground and firing.
“Loose!”
As the second archer fell, the remaining archers shouted, loosing a volley of arrows. Aslan threw himself to the ground, grabbing a quiver.
–Thwack!
“Ugh!”
An arrow struck his ankle, but his enhanced Fighting Spirit dulled the pain. Ignoring the throbbing in his leg, Aslan pulled five arrows from the quiver and nocked them to his bowstring.
Faster than the archers, who were still nocking their own arrows, Aslan loosed his.
Two arrows at a time, in rapid succession.
–Thwang! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwang!
“Gah!”
“Ugh!”
The five arrows flew through the air, killing two archers. The last arrow struck the remaining archer’s helmet, then pierced his leg.
As the archer stumbled and fell, Angie, who had leaped onto the terrace, thrust her glaive forward.
“Raaaa!”
The archer screamed as the glaive pierced his back. Angie, gritting her teeth, swung her weapon, sending the archer tumbling from the terrace.
“Haa!”
A grunt, followed by the sickening crunch of bone, echoed from below. Harod had finished him off.
“Master Aslan! They’re coming up there!”
Harod shouted, still fighting, having dispatched the fallen archer. Aslan saw him over the balustrade, parrying the soldiers’ attacks with his shield.
Aslan glanced at the Dragonkin, then nodded at Angie.
“Angie, go help Harod.”
Angie snorted, then leaped from the terrace. Aslan picked up the executioner’s sword, reversing his grip on the blade.
As he pulled arrows from his quiver, he fired at the soldiers climbing the stairs to the terrace.
The twang of the bowstring was almost a continuous sound as arrows found their marks. Soldiers clutched their chests and throats, collapsing to the ground. Others fell to their knees, arrows protruding from their heads.
“Die! Die!”
A soldier charged at Aslan, swinging a battle-axe. Aslan raised his bow, blocking the blow aimed at his head.
–Crack!
The bow snapped. Aslan, unfazed, adjusted his grip on the executioner’s sword and swung, a short, horizontal slash.
The soldier’s throat was torn open. He collapsed as two more soldiers appeared behind him.
Aslan, without hesitation, reversed his grip on the broken bow and thrust it forward.
“Ugh! Gah!”
He jammed the broken end of the bow into the gap between the soldier’s helmet and throat, striking his windpipe. The soldier clawed at the protruding wood, trying to pull it out, but Aslan shoved him back, then slammed his elbow against the broken bow.
“Gurgle…”
The soldier collapsed, gurgling. The soldier behind him shouted, his eyes wide with fear, and lunged, his weapon raised.
–Clang!
Aslan deflected the blow with the executioner’s sword, sending the soldier stumbling. The soldier’s off-balance stance revealed a clear opening. Aslan reached out.
He grabbed the soldier by the throat and yanked him forward, pulling him into his side and using him as a shield. Aslan fell backwards.
–Crack!
The soldier’s neck snapped as his head hit the floor. The light faded from his eyes.
“Gasp… huff…”
Aslan lay on the ground, the dead soldier’s head still tucked under his arm, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Despite his enhanced Fighting Spirit, he was reaching his limit. The sounds of fighting from below, from the main floor of the audience chamber, were slowly fading.
Aslan closed his eyes, then opened them, and pushed himself up, wincing as he stood. He limped towards the stairs, descending to the lower level.
“…Oh…”
The fight was over. Harod, his shield and mace stained crimson, had clearly killed several soldiers. Angie’s fiery red hair was matted with blood.
Aslan glanced at them, then surveyed the survivors.
The Emperor, his face a mask of terror. Cornil Ashuld, looking stunned.
And Ileana, her expression unreadable.
Aslan looked at them, then brushed his sweat-and blood-soaked hair back from his forehead.
He walked towards the Emperor, his limping gait leaving a trail of blood on the floor.
The Emperor, seeing the bloodstains and the blood-soaked executioner’s sword, shouted,
“Cornil! Cornil Ashuld! Protect me! Kill him!”
Cornil Ashuld, startled by the Emperor’s desperate plea, hesitated for a moment, then began channeling his mana.
He hadn’t joined the fight initially, thinking it unnecessary, and then, he had been too stunned to react. Now, finally, he began to weave a lightning spell, chanting the incantation.
Aslan, sensing the surge of mana, pointed a finger at Cornil.
The advantage of wild magic was its speed.
Conventional magic, with its incantations and hand signs, could never match the speed of wild magic.
A concussive force erupted from Aslan’s fingertip, far faster than any spell Cornil could cast, striking the mage in the forehead.
“Oof!”
It wasn’t a lethal blow, not even particularly painful. Cornil Ashuld simply stumbled back, falling to the ground.
He cursed his own carelessness as he fell.
“Harod!”
Aslan shouted. The red-scaled Dragonkin charged forward, his shield raised.
“Gah!”
Cornil Ashuld was pinned beneath the Dragonkin’s shield.
With the last of his forces subdued, the Emperor stumbled back, his face a mixture of fear and confusion.
Aslan approached the retreating Emperor and grabbed him by the neck again.
The Emperor gasped, his voice strained.
“Y-you… think carefully! If you kill me here… all of Belus Ma’kel will hunt you down! Every soldier in this palace, every guard in this city, will be after your head!”
Aslan simply stared at him. The Emperor trembled, seeing the chilling coldness in his eyes.
“You’re a formidable warrior, I’ll give you that… but you can’t possibly defeat the entire city! You’re already exhausted! I can see it!”
“And?”
Aslan’s eyes narrowed. The Emperor forced a smile.
“If… if you let me go… I’ll let you go as well! Out of respect for your… prowess! I swear on the name of the Calus Empire, I won’t pursue you! Not until you leave the capital!”
Aslan frowned, tilting his head slightly.
It was a desperate, unconvincing plea. Aslan felt a pang of disappointment, then thought,
‘Well, even on Earth, incompetent rulers existed. Some so incompetent that their own siblings tried to usurp them. Compared to that…’
As Aslan was rationalizing the Emperor’s incompetence, the Emperor continued,
“Or… or perhaps… take me hostage! As long as you don’t kill me, your infamy won’t spread! If you assassinate the Emperor twice… your notoriety will spread across the entire continent…”
Aslan’s eyes flickered, and the Emperor, taking it as a positive sign, opened his mouth to speak, but…
“I might have spared you if it weren’t for the Partial Priestification.”
Aslan’s casual remark made the Emperor freeze, a confused sound escaping his lips.
“I don’t spare priests.”
Aslan tightened his grip on the Emperor’s neck, lifting him off the ground. The Emperor’s legs kicked feebly in the air, his face contorted in fear and as he struggled to breathe.
“And…”
The Emperor’s terrified gaze met Aslan’s. Aslan smiled gently.
“Assassinating the Emperor once is difficult. Twice? Not so much.”
The Emperor didn’t reply.
–Crack!
The light faded from his eyes, his body going limp. Aslan released his grip, watching as blood trickled from the Emperor’s eyes and mouth.
The body hit the floor with a dull thud. Aslan stared at the corpse for a moment, then turned.
Ileana was still there, standing at a safe distance, watching him.
As Aslan approached, she met his gaze, her expression strangely calm.
It was time to finish this.
Aslan addressed the girl,
“Would you mind summoning Captain Reynald of the Imperial Guard, Your Majesty?”
Ileana remained silent, her eyes filled with anticipation.
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