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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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“Yes, that Vida Kingdom.”
Aslan’s nonchalant reply made the Margrave run a hand over his face.
“Do you understand what you’re saying? You’re taking the Saint with you, aren’t you?”
“Indeed.”
Aslan’s relaxed demeanor worried the Margrave. He felt obligated, as Aslan’s benefactor, to dissuade him. He suspected Aslan hadn’t fully grasped the implications of his decision.
“If you take the Saint to the Vida Kingdom, you’re bound to encounter the Order of the Fated of the Universe. You might even run into a High Priest.”
In truth, it wasn’t a matter of might. It was a certainty.
Ereta, despite her current state, was the Saint of Slaughter, the most renowned High Priest of the Order of the Fated of the Universe.
The Artist, the High Priest of the Poison-Breathing Dragon, was a more obscure figure, while the High Priest of the Earth-Shattering Giant remained hidden, shrouded in rumor and speculation.
Ereta was the most public face of the Order, and her identity would undoubtedly be discovered in the Vida Kingdom. Whether it would be by the kingdom’s nobles or soldiers, or by a priest of the Fated of the Universe sent to eliminate her and Aslan, remained to be seen.
Either way, it wouldn’t end well. The Margrave frowned, his concern evident.
Aslan, seeing his worry, smiled faintly, his expression carefully neutral.
“I’m aware of that.”
“Then why go to the Vida Kingdom? The Baramunz Mountain Kingdom would be safer…”
There were several reasons.
But despite his trust in the Margrave, he couldn’t risk leaking information that might put him in danger.
He couldn’t risk having one of his few allies killed because of something he had shared. Aslan offered the most superficial reason.
“Because I’m confident.”
The Margrave let out a disbelieving huff but didn’t argue.
There was no point in trying to dissuade someone who had confidently claimed he could kill a High Priest, and then proceeded to do just that.
He sighed, resigned.
“Well then, I can’t stop you. I was hoping… you would meet my daughter, who’s currently traveling in Baramunz, but I see there’s no changing your mind…”
He paused, then looked at Aslan.
“Good luck. Until you leave, consider this your home. And don’t just disappear like last time.”
Aslan simply smiled, and the Margrave chuckled.
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Two weeks.
That’s how long it took for Aslan to regain full mobility.
Until then, he had to walk with a noticeable limp.
And Angie, during those two weeks, had followed him everywhere.
Or rather, he had allowed her to follow him.
He had been walking behind her, and she had been leading the way, occasionally glancing back at him. He had finally asked,
“Why are you following me?”
Technically, she was the one being followed, but she didn’t seem to mind. She simply grinned and replied,
“Protecting you, duh?”
Protecting him from what? Aslan had asked, and she had puffed out her chest, her smile widening.
“I’m all healed up, and you’re not. So I gotta protect you, right?”
There was no one in the Margravate who would harm Aslan, and yet, Angie seemed to genuinely believe she was needed, her smile brimming with self-satisfaction.
And so, every time Aslan went somewhere, she would ask him where he was going and then walk ahead, as if scouting for danger.
Aslan wasn’t sure how effective her “protection” was, but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her offer.
It almost felt like he was taking a puppy for a walk. She seemed to have boundless energy.
And it wasn’t particularly bothersome, so he let her do as she pleased.
It wouldn’t last forever.
After two weeks, having recovered enough to travel, Aslan left the Margravate with Ereta and Angie.
They headed east from Sangirus,
Following the road that led towards the Vida Kingdom, Aslan leading the way without hesitation.
While he wasn’t fully healed, and his body still ached after prolonged walking, his high Fighting Spirit kept him going.
Angie, with her high Vitality, showed no signs of fatigue. So, when they stopped, it was usually for one reason.
Ereta, the former High Priest.
For her. Aslan would set up camp and build a small fire.
Ereta would usually fall asleep soon after the fire was lit, leaving Aslan and Angie sitting by the flickering flames.
Two days had passed since they left the Margravate. With no one following them, Aslan felt a sense of relief.
‘Good, things aren’t too complicated yet.’
If the game’s storyline had been followed, the protagonist would have encountered a War Monk, a priest of the War God, in the Margravate.
And what they did after that encounter was entirely up to them.
Whether they defeated the War Monk and protected the Margravate, used it as bait to capture the priest, or simply abandoned it and fled.
Regardless of their choice, after completing the quest, the protagonist had to choose their next destination.
The Vida Kingdom, or the Baramunz Mountain Kingdom.
Normally, the choice didn’t matter much. It simply changed the region and the opposing god they would face.
But Aslan hadn’t encountered a War Monk, or even an ordinary priest.
He had faced Ereta, a High Priest of the Fated of the Universe, the Saint of Slaughter.
A powerful opponent who, in the game, wasn’t encountered until much later, around Chapter 7.
The storyline had diverged significantly, but he had still managed to complete the quest.
The problem was the aftermath.
The Order of the Fated of the Universe, a triad of gods with three High Priests, was now missing one.
The Weaver of Fire, its divine power weakened, had retreated.
The game and reality were starting to drift apart.
Aslan couldn’t predict the consequences.
Would they choose a new High Priest?
Would the new High Priest serve the Weaver of Fire?
Or one of the other two gods?
What would happen to the Weaver of Fire?
He had no way of knowing. Perhaps the Fated of the Universe would be permanently weakened.
The power balance among the gods could shift, perhaps even leading to the demise of the Fated of the Universe. Or perhaps they would be absorbed by the other gods, permanently disrupting the divine hierarchy.
Whatever the outcome, one thing was certain – his knowledge of the game would become less and less useful.
He needed to take precautions, to prepare for every possibility.
Aslan was lost in thought when Angie approached.
“Scooch over.”
She wrapped herself in a blanket and sat down beside him, leaning against him. Aslan flinched at the sudden contact.
“Angie…?”
She was close enough that their shoulders touched. She yawned, her golden eyes flickering with drowsiness before settling on Aslan.
“What?”
She frowned slightly, as if annoyed by his question.
Aslan, startled by her sudden closeness, asked awkwardly,
“What’s this about? You’re a little too close…”
Angie rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and shrugged, her fiery red hair brushing against Aslan’s leather armor.
“We’re comrades. What’s the big deal? Besides, I get cold easily. I can’t sleep when I’m cold.”
She yawned again, pulling the blanket higher, covering even her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed.
Angie wasn’t a good liar. Aslan recognized the tell-tale signs and stared at her.
Was there a reason for her to lie about something like this? He wondered.
Angie, feeling his gaze, scratched her cheek, looking away. She mumbled, finally confessing,
“Well… you looked so worried, frowning like that… I just wanted to… you know… tell you not to worry alone… that I’m here for you… but it was kinda embarrassing…”
She trailed off, then punched him lightly on the shoulder. Despite her Strength stat of 7, it didn’t hurt at all.
“Forget it! I’m just cold, okay?!”
She huffed, her face still flushed, but she didn’t move away.
Aslan, touched by her awkward attempt at comfort, smiled. He had indeed been lost in thought.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The fire crackled merrily between them.
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As the fire died down, and the sky began to lighten with the pre-dawn glow, Ereta and Angie woke up.
“Pack your things. We have a long way to go.”
Aslan, already awake, instructed them, and they quickly gathered their belongings. Ereta moved quietly, while Angie bustled about, her movements energetic. Aslan led the way, heading east, towards the rising sun.
The dew-covered grass shimmered with a faint blue light as they walked.
Aslan led the way, Angie following close behind with her large backpack, and Ereta trailing behind them, her head lowered, her expression gloomy.
The vast grasslands gradually gave way to barren plains as massive trees appeared on the distant horizon. The ground grew damp and muddy as they approached the trees.
‘This is strange.’
As the mud began to cling to her boots, making Angie shudder, Aslan realized something was amiss.
If the main quest line had been followed, soldiers from the Helsingor Duchy should have intercepted them by now.
But the vast plains remained eerily silent, devoid of any human presence.
As if something had happened to the soldiers.
Just as Aslan’s brow furrowed in suspicion,
The pungent smell of blood wafted from between the massive trees.
The coppery tang of blood, the unmistakable scent of slaughtered humans, made them all react, their expressions varying.
Aslan, his face grim, stopped and gestured to his companions. They lowered their stances and cautiously approached the treeline.
The smell of blood grew stronger as they moved closer, mingling with another, more nauseating odor.
A smell like human flesh, but with a strong, acrid undertone.
And then, as the stench reached its peak, Aslan saw it.
Mangled bodies. And a group of monsters.
‘Is this why they didn’t come?’
Several large monsters were feasting on the corpses of soldiers, their bodies torn apart. And standing among them, a giant figure clad in robes.
While he was already almost certain, Aslan glanced at Ereta.
Her expression was a mixture of hope and fear.
Hope that he would recognize her, that he would offer her protection.
Fear that she had truly been abandoned.
Seeing that flicker of hope, Aslan was certain. The giant figure among the trees was a priest of the Earth-Shattering Giant, one of the Fated of the Universe.
And if he was certain, there was no reason to hesitate.
Aslan drew his axes.
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