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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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A week had passed since they arrived in Kardi.
And Aslan had run into a problem.
He was eavesdropping on a conversation between two middle-aged men at the tavern, a mug of bitter beer in his hand, its fizzy aftertaste the only sensation he could register.
“Is the crossing still closed?”
“Aye, it is. Leaving folks like us, who live hand to mouth, high and dry. They won’t let anyone through.”
“My coin purse is getting light. What’s the hold up?”
“What about Randy Gorge?”
The first man, clad in thick leather, suggested an alternative route. The other man shuddered, shaking his head vehemently.
“It’s a nasty place these days. You’d be better off sneaking through the Giant’s Desert. I hear it’s crawling with monsters from Henna’s Blighted Wasteland.”
“Wouldn’t the Werebeasts handle them? It’s Baron Werebeast’s territory, after all.”
Aslan’s eyes narrowed, his attention piqued. The man, spitting slightly as he spoke, addressed his companion.
“Not this time. There are some nasty creatures among them, and the Werebeasts are struggling. I even heard the Baron himself is dead, which has caused some problems with the chain of command.”
“Damn it. So we just wait here until we starve?”
The man rubbed his bald head, his voice filled with despair. The other man, his face grim, took a long swig of his beer.
“Don’t take it out on me. I’m not the one who closed the crossing.”
The conversation died down, replaced by the gloomy clinking of their mugs. Aslan suppressed a sigh and lowered his gaze.
This was why he had been stuck in Kardi for a week.
If his destination had been Kardi itself, a city within the Helsingor Duchy, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But his true destination was still far away.
Kardi was a place he couldn’t afford to linger in.
Not because of safety concerns.
Kardi was one of the most prosperous cities in the Northern Continent.
Located on the southernmost tip of the Helsingor Duchy, its coastal location and vast fertile lands made it a hub for both land and sea trade, ensuring its prosperity.
Its wealth attracted mercenaries and well-trained soldiers, and its access to the sea meant even mages from the City of Mages occasionally visited. It was a city with ample resources and manpower.
The problem wasn’t its safety, but its significance to the main quest line.
It was the setting for the next main quest.
Aslan pulled his hood lower, glancing at Angie, who was sitting across from him, her own hood pulled low, meticulously dissecting a baked potato.
Angie, not understanding his gesture, tilted her head, then offered him a piece of the potato. Aslan shook his head, and she shrugged, returning to her meal.
The next main quest would begin when the “protagonist” met Duke Helsingor in Kardi.
He wasn’t trying to avoid the main quest. He needed to progress through the main quests.
They were his only way home, his only path to survival. He had been waiting for twelve years.
The problem was, once the main quest in Kardi began, he wouldn’t be able to reach the Master of the Sword.
Belus Alpen, located northwest of Kardi, even further north than Olpasbet, the prison city where he had helped Angie escape, was the next destination in the Kardi main quest line. And it had a time limit.
Once that quest began, he wouldn’t be able to reach the Honingal Barony, where the Master of the Sword was rumored to be.
Aslan believed that recruiting the Master of the Sword early on would be crucial to the success of his overall plan.
That’s why he was hiding his identity, why he was so frustrated by the closed crossing.
Randy Gorge was dangerous, and the reason for the closure of the Giant’s Desert remained unclear.
He could ask the Duke, but that would likely trigger the main quest, and he couldn’t afford that.
His only option was to gather information discreetly, perhaps through eavesdropping or by sneaking through. But he needed to know why the crossing was closed, to assess the risks and rewards. Information was crucial for survival.
But even that was a problem. He didn’t know enough to choose between the monster-infested Randy Gorge and the so-called Giant’s Desert.
At least he was making some progress.
Aslan sighed, and Angie, her cheeks puffed out from the food, looked up at him.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“…Should I… try to force our way through?”
Aslan shook his head.
“It’s not worth the risk. We’ll be discovered.”
Being discovered by the priests or the Duke would be a problem. The Duke’s arrival would trigger the main quest, and the priests would attack.
Angie, unaware of his concerns, frowned.
“Hmm… okay. But I don’t get it. Why are we hiding if we didn’t do anything wrong?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“It’s… difficult to explain.”
“Ugh, I hate complicated things.”
Explaining to Angie, in terms she could understand, that simply encountering the Duke would trigger a quest would be incredibly difficult.
Fortunately, Angie wasn’t one for complex strategies, preferring to leave the planning to Aslan. This allowed him to avoid the explanation.
He considered choosing Randy Gorge, as he at least had some information about it, when Angie asked another question.
“Where’s the crazy woman, anyway?”
The crazy woman.
Ereta. Angie, who had witnessed Ereta’s true nature, her violent tendencies, during their first encounter, continued to refer to her as “the crazy woman,” even now, despite Ereta’s subdued demeanor and decreased aggression.
And since no one corrected her, the nickname stuck.
And considering Ereta was a certifiable masochist, the nickname wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
“Gathering information.”
“Information? What kind of information?”
“She’ll be back soon. You’ll see.”
Aslan nodded, and Angie, humming thoughtfully, took a bite of her bread. She glanced towards the tavern door, as if expecting someone.
Just then, the door opened, and a woman, cloaked in a drab linen garment, entered.
Her white hair, visible beneath her hood, and her kind pink eyes, made her a striking figure.
It was Ereta.
She scanned the tavern, her gaze settling on Aslan and Angie. She walked towards them.
Aslan pulled out a chair for her, and Ereta, a faint smile on her lips, sat down.
“You weren’t talking about me behind my back, were you?”
“We were.”
Angie replied sullenly, but Ereta simply smiled, her gaze gentle.
“You know, Angie, your eyebrows twitch when you lie.”
Angie’s hand flew to her eyebrows, and Ereta grinned.
“I’m just teasing.”
“Ugh.”
Angie clenched her fists, annoyed at having been tricked, but Ereta, unfazed, picked up Aslan’s beer mug.
Since learning about his objective a week ago, before they arrived in Kardi, she had been acting like her old self.
Like the Saint of Slaughter, before her defeat, before she lost her divine powers.
Aslan watched her, and Ereta, feeling his gaze, smiled.
“So, did you find anything?”
She took a sip of the beer, then replied,
“The Giants are causing trouble.”
“Giants?”
Angie asked, her expression suggesting she had no idea what Ereta was talking about. Ereta smiled, and Aslan, anticipating Angie’s next question, began his explanation.
“They’re a race of demi-humans that live in the desert we were planning to cross. They’re not considered human, like Dragonkin, Gnomes, or Fairies, due to their… lack of intelligence and… social graces. But they’re not monsters. As their name suggests, they’re large and strong. Probably a bit stronger than you are now.”
“…So they’re super strong?”
Angie’s current Strength was 7. Considering Giants usually had a Strength stat of 8-10, they were indeed quite powerful.
While an unarmed human wouldn’t stand a chance against them, their immense strength was offset by their lack of intelligence. They could create simple tools, but they lacked the ingenuity to develop more complex technology.
That’s why they couldn’t defeat a well-organized army.
They had been conquered, driven into the desert, forced to live under human rule, trading with humans for survival.
“If the Giants are causing trouble, I understand why the crossing is closed… but do you know why they’re causing trouble?”
Aslan had tasked Ereta with gathering information, specifically from the guards.
With her beauty and gentle demeanor, she could easily approach the guards and glean information without attracting too much attention, unlike Aslan or Angie.
And despite having only a week, she had done her job well.
She had earned the trust of the guards by assisting them with minor monster hunts and other tasks, her benevolent appearance making it easy to gather information.
“Well, it’s just a rumor, but… I heard they’re being attacked.”
“Attacked? Giants?”
“Yes.”
Giants weren’t usually the ones being attacked. While not particularly intelligent, they were capable of forming communities, and the Giant’s Desert even had a self-governing region, centered around the Giant’s Fortress.
The only beings capable of attacking Giants were…
“Priests, then.”
While he didn’t know why they would attack the Giants, priests weren’t always driven by logic or reason.
Ereta, her chin resting on her hand, smiled, a playful glint in her eyes.
“Wrong.”
“…What?”
“I heard it’s wraiths. The Giants are claiming it’s some kind of evil human magic and are asking for help.”
“What?”
“It’s just a rumor, but… if it’s wraiths, it makes sense.”
Wraiths were immune to most physical attacks. Unlike banshees, they were vulnerable to magic, but could only be defeated by spells, rare weapons imbued with elemental properties, or a relentless barrage of physical attacks.
“Or maybe… it’s a trick by the Giants?”
“No, I think it’s true.”
While Ereta suggested the possibility of deception, Aslan knew Giants weren’t intelligent enough to concoct such a scheme. They were more likely to be the victims of a con, not the perpetrators.
While he believed the rumors about the wraiths were likely true, their appearance in the Giant’s Desert was still puzzling.
There had to be a reason. He frowned, then shook his head.
“Anyway, if it’s wraiths, that’s even better.”
“Why?”
Wraiths were formed from the vengeful spirits of humans who refused to pass on to the afterlife. They were a consequence of the death of the Old God who governed the underworld, the one who ensured the flow of souls.
Essentially, they were spirits.
And if they were dealing with spirits, Aslan had an advantage.
[Sorrow’s Heart – Can cleave divine energy and ethereal beings.]
Aslan smiled faintly, remembering the description of Purity, which seemed permanently affixed to his system window.
“I’m their hard counter.”
No one understood the term “hard counter,” but the confidence in his voice, the conviction in his eyes, silenced any potential questions from Angie and Ereta.
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