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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Aslan had suspected Ereta was a masochist, and his suspicion had been correct.
It was information he shouldn’t have known. A person’s sexual preferences weren’t something you could just ask about and expect a truthful answer.
And yet, Aslan knew, thanks to the game. Specifically, thanks to the game’s unused data.
Data that existed within the game files but wasn’t actually used in the game itself was called dummy data.
And within that dummy data, Aslan had found information about recruiting the Saint of Slaughter as a companion.
Information about her interactions, dialogue, and personality, including a specific mention of masochistic tendencies.
It was based on this information that Aslan had made his assumption.
‘I can’t believe that dummy data was actually accurate…’
Of course, it wasn’t information he could be entirely certain of. Dummy data, after all, was unused data. It could have been incorrect.
Aslan had chosen to focus on Ereta’s masochism because he believed that even if his plan failed, there wouldn’t be any serious repercussions.
And since it had worked, there was no problem.
Aslan put Ereta out of his mind and called for Harod and Angie.
Harod, like Aslan, was covered in bandages, while Angie, surprisingly, was completely unharmed.
Aslan met their gazes and spoke.
“I’m bringing Ereta on board. As a prisoner, for now.”
Harod, lying in bed, his body aching, groaned.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Harod snorted, unconvinced, but Angie simply nodded, her expression neutral.
She looked down at the fruit in her hand and said casually,
“I’m in favor.”
“What…?”
Harod’s eyes widened in surprise, but Angie shrugged.
“I’m not a Great One like her, or a warrior like you. So I don’t know much… but she and I were pretty evenly matched in terms of strength. And yet, I was the one who got knocked out.”
A flicker of frustration crossed her face. She tightened her grip on the fruit, and it split open, juice dripping down her hand.
“Even without her powers, she still has her skills, right? She’ll be useful.”
“You’re not… bothered by this?”
Aslan was pleased by her easy acceptance, but it also felt strange. It wasn’t what he expected from her.
Angie looked down at the ground.
“Of course I’m bothered. But… I learned something from that fight. I’m not strong enough. I followed your signals, your plan, but… I still lost.”
She stared at the broken fruit, then popped a piece into her mouth.
“We’re going to face tougher opponents, right?”
Aslan nodded silently. Angie smiled wryly.
“Then we need all the help we can get. I’m not smart, and I’m not good with words, but I figured you could find a way to make use of her, right?”
“…Right.”
“Then I trust you. I’ve decided not to worry about the things I can’t do. That’s your job.”
Aslan remained silent.
To entrust him with such a decision, to place her life in his hands, was a sign of absolute trust. Harod, sensing this, spoke.
“Don’t you have any reservations?”
“Of course I do. But he’s decided.”
I trust my comrade. Angie added simply, finishing the fruit.
Aslan and Harod stared at her, surprised, and Angie grinned.
“What do you think?”
She asked Harod, who snorted and turned his face away.
“I… I don’t think it’s wise to travel with such a person. Even as a prisoner, she’s still a Great One. But… arguing with Master Aslan’s decision is pointless. Besides, my opinion doesn’t matter.”
Angie tilted her head at his last comment, and Harod opened his eyes, meeting her gaze.
“I’m leaving.”
“What?”
Angie blinked, confused, and Harod sighed.
“Angela.”
He had always called her Angela Tail, reinforcing her identity as a commoner from Belus Alpen.
But now, he had used only her given name.
Even Angie seemed surprised by this.
“I saw the place where you and Master Aslan fought that woman.”
Harod Claw had seen it.
The scene of carnage, the bloodstains, the broken weapons, the splintered trees, the shattered earth – it didn’t look like the aftermath of a human battle.
Unlike Harod, who had only lost a few fingers fighting monsters and followers, Angie and Aslan had emerged from that fight without losing any limbs.
Injured, yes, but victorious.
Harod Claw, a warrior his entire life, could assess an opponent’s skill, could gauge the difference between their abilities and his own.
“Angela, you’re stronger than me now.”
Angie’s expression turned serious, and Harod closed his eyes again.
“You said you felt inadequate during that fight with Master Aslan. But even feeling inadequate, you’re still far stronger than I am.”
“You…”
“I wouldn’t be much help to you. Not even as a meat shield. And I don’t enjoy fighting battles I can’t win.”
Angie frowned at his decision to leave, but Aslan remained silent, as if he had already known.
“So where are you going?”
“I’m thinking of working as a mercenary in the Baramunz Mountain Kingdom. Perhaps, one day… I’ll be able to return to Belus Alpen.”
“Did Aslan agree…?”
“He already has. He gave me my freedom when we escaped. I chose to follow him, and now… it’s time for me to leave.”
Angie’s face fell. Despite the short time they had traveled together, she seemed saddened by his departure. But she didn’t try to stop him.
“Yeah… you’ll do fine. You’re pretty tough.”
Harod smiled faintly and nodded. Silence fell between them, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Then, Harod spoke,
“It’s not my place to question your decisions, but… I’d still like to know. Why are you accepting Ereta into our group?”
Aslan pretended to consider the question. He already had his answer, but he didn’t want to make it seem like a hasty decision.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, he asked,
“Do you know my goal?”
“…No, I don’t.”
“To piss off the gods?”
Aslan shook his head at Harod and Angie’s differing responses.
He looked at them, considering his words.
Gelladrion was a terrible place.
A world where the gods casually abused and exploited mortal lives.
Where their priests, empowered by divine authority, slaughtered in their gods’ names.
Aslan couldn’t accept that.
All life had value. Even the weakest creature deserved to live.
That was what he believed. How he had always lived.
He couldn’t simply ignore the injustice of this world, just because it was different from his own.
But he couldn’t change it alone.
Even with meticulous planning, he had barely survived his fight against a single High Priest.
He couldn’t even defeat a human army on his own.
There was only one way to change this world. To reach the game’s ending.
Eternal Dominion had two endings, three if you counted a specific branch.
Apathy, where the world remained sealed, the gods kept at bay, but the world itself remained corrupted.
Sacrifice, where the player became a god, a benevolent deity, but ultimately became prey for the evil gods, eternally tormented.
Greed, where the player became an evil god, simply adding to the world’s suffering.
None of these endings were the happy ending he wanted.
But from his twelve years of experience, he knew that deviating from the game’s storyline was difficult, and reaching a different ending would be even harder.
To achieve his desired happy ending, he needed power.
And what he would do with that power was obvious.
“To kill all the gods. That’s my goal.”
Harod’s eyes widened, and Angie gasped.
It was an absurd statement. Gods weren’t meant to be killed.
But Aslan was confident in his plan.
“And the first step… is to gather allies.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“You’re right. I’m going to gather the Great Ones.”
They were guaranteed to be powerful, even if they weren’t priests.
And even if some were weaker than others, it didn’t matter.
Aslan had fought and survived against priests for twelve years, even without exceeding human limitations.
Ereta, the Master of the Mace.
She would be the first Great One to join him.
Harod, seemingly understanding, buried his face in his pillow, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“The scale of your ambition… it’s overwhelming… To gather the Great Ones and kill the gods? Master Aslan… are you sure you want to tell me this?”
Despite his astonishment, Aslan remained calm.
“No one will take you seriously, even if you tell them. Not even the priests.”
“…I suppose you’re right. Even I thought you were insane for a moment there.”
He didn’t think gathering the Great Ones would be enough to challenge the gods. But he knew Aslan wasn’t one to make empty promises or boast about unrealistic plans.
He rubbed his long snout with his hand, lost in thought.
Then, amidst the confusion, a flicker of understanding crossed his face.
“So, where to next? The Great Ones are often difficult to track down…”
“Next… we’re going after the Master of the Sword.”
The Master of the Sword.
The most famous Great One, second only to the Master of Battle.
Harod, considering the name and title, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then murmured,
“Wait, the Master of the Sword…?”
“Yes. Our next destination is the Vida Kingdom.”
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“…The Vida Kingdom? The one teeming with shrines of the Fated of the Universe? Are you insane?”
Back in his office, after leaving Harod’s room, the Margrave stared at Aslan, his face a mask of disbelief. Aslan simply chuckled.
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