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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Aslan, flanked by Duke Helsingor, entered the large tent, Ereta following close behind. They crossed the bustling campsite that had been erected beside the Giant’s Fortress Village.
“Oh, you’re back,”
Angie greeted them, perched on a chair at a large table, casually taking a bite out of an apple. She waved, and Aslan nodded in acknowledgment.
“So, did you get all the wraiths?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Angie grinned at him. The Duke nodded, echoing,
“Indeed, good,”
After requesting Aslan’s help, the Duke had assured him that his companions were safe and under his protection.
He claimed they had even helped the Giants repel the wraiths that had attacked the village, a minor skirmish without any serious casualties.
And indeed, Angie, while bearing a few scrapes and bruises, was bandaged and seemed fine.
The Duke, seemingly relieved to see them all safe, walked around the table, stopping with his back to a large, cloth-covered object.
The cloth, stretched taut over the object’s sharp angles, hinted at its shape.
The Duke kept glancing nervously at the covered object, a flicker of unease in his eyes.
‘What is that?’
It didn’t seem like an item needed for the upcoming task, or an advance payment. The Duke was far too wary of it.
He wouldn’t be so guarded, so nervous, if it was irrelevant. But even now, as Aslan watched him, the Duke remained tense, his hand gripping the edge of the table.
His unease wasn’t directed at Aslan.
‘It’s definitely connected to this situation. Perhaps… crucial evidence?’
The unusual nature of this whole affair was obvious.
A high-ranking nobleman like the Duke, instead of sending a subordinate, had personally come looking for Aslan, bringing a contingent of soldiers with him.
And he had claimed that Aslan was the only one who could save Kardi.
A Duke, with access to countless mercenaries, skilled subordinates, and a standing army, claiming that only Aslan could do it.
It was clearly not a normal situation. The Duke wouldn’t have come personally if it were.
The fact that he had come all this way, even crossing into another nobleman’s territory, meant the situation was far more serious than Aslan had initially thought.
A serious, unusual situation. A situation requiring the Duke’s personal intervention.
And the only thing that would warrant such a drastic measure, from a man known for his ability to glean information from the movements of the gods, was something related to…
The gods.
A divine disaster.
And if that was the case, Aslan had no reason to refuse. In fact, it was a good thing.
But first,
“Before we begin…”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve asked for my help in dealing with the situation in Kardi, Your Grace. And I assume you have a proposition for me in return.”
“…You’re perceptive. So…”
“Please, hold that thought.”
The Duke paused, his mouth open slightly, and Aslan continued,
“I know you’re confused. You’re probably wondering why I’m saying this. But… please, just wait. When I return, when I’m ready, I’ll hear your proposition then.”
Aslan’s words, a carefully calculated gambit to delay the start of the main quest, hung in the air.
The main quest would begin with the Duke’s offer of alliance. And Aslan was preemptively refusing to hear it.
“I’m not rejecting your offer. Just… postponing it. Now is not the time.”
He glanced around the tent, his gaze lingering on the entrance, a subtle hint, a breadcrumb for those who knew the game, about why the priests would later attack Kardi, targeting the inner city.
‘There’s a spy among the Duke’s men.’
And, ‘Someone is listening, so I can’t say more. And revealing my intention to recruit the vestige of the Old Gods would only complicate matters.’
The Duke, understanding his unspoken message, his face hardening slightly, nodded.
Aslan, pleased that his plan was working, relaxed slightly.
‘Just as I thought. He’s quick.’
As expected of the Duke who had single-handedly defended the border between the Calus Empire and the Mountain Kingdom for so long, he understood quickly. He nodded.
“You’re a remarkable man.”
“Thank you.”
“The thanks are all mine.”
The Duke sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“Then let’s discuss the situation in Kardi.”
“I’m listening.”
Ereta, seemingly unconcerned, was smiling faintly behind Aslan, while Angie, her arms crossed, looked confused, clearly not understanding the nuances of their exchange.
The Duke, observing their reactions, spoke,
“Kardi… is under attack.”
“…Under attack?”
Aslan had considered several possibilities when the Duke had said that only he could save Kardi. But a direct attack on the city itself hadn’t been one of them.
Priests rarely attacked large cities directly. It risked drawing too much attention, potentially sparking a full-scale war, which would be a nuisance even for them.
The powerful figures who held sway in Gelladrion were either strong enough to maintain their positions amidst the constant power struggles between the priests and gods, or they were followers of evil gods.
Attacking a major city was akin to disturbing a hornet’s nest, a complex web of alliances and rivalries.
So, a direct attack on Kardi didn’t make sense.
Not unless Aslan had already started the main quest. Cities and territories were usually safe, as long as the protagonist didn’t interfere.
Usually.
“Yes, under attack. A formless attack. Kardi is isolated, its people suffering. Many have already died, and we have no leads.”
“Have you attempted to repel the attackers? Kardi has many skilled individuals, doesn’t it?”
“Of course. We’ve hired mercenaries, mages, even Dragonkin warriors from Belus Alpen. Most of them are dead.”
Dragonkin warriors from Belus Alpen were renowned for their strength, their combat skills honed over generations, their unique martial arts, and their superior weaponry, thanks to their advanced metalworking techniques. They were highly sought-after mercenaries.
And the Duke had hired several of them, only for them to be killed.
It meant this wasn’t something ordinary humans could handle.
“I have a good ear for rumors. And there’s always a grain of truth in every rumor. Enough to paint a picture.”
The Duke now believed Aslan was his only hope.
“The resourcefulness to defeat and recruit the Saint of Slaughter.”
Ereta’s eyes widened at the mention of her title.
“The foresight to find and nurture the vestige of the Old Gods.”
Angie, hearing her name, puffed out her cheeks.
“The skill to kill countless priests, assassinate the Emperor twice, and evade the Unfalling’s relentless pursuit for twelve years, all while being his sole designated heir.”
Aslan’s jaw tightened at the mention of his former master.
“If even half of those rumors are true, you’re a hero unlike any other in history.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Not at all, considering there are two such heroes present.”
As expected, the Duke had recognized both Ereta and Angie. Aslan wasn’t surprised. The girls, however, looked startled.
The Duke leaned forward, his gaze intense.
“I need your help. This is something only a hero can do.”
Something only Aslan could do.
While he couldn’t be certain, if Duke Helsingor said it, it was likely true. The Duke was a cautious man, not prone to exaggeration.
“I’ll give you anything you want. Kardi is desperate.”
The Duke’s face was etched with worry, and Aslan finally understood why he had come personally.
“That’s why you came yourself. To ensure your safety, and to persuade me.”
The Duke’s grim expression softened into a faint smile, as if asking, ‘You figured it out, didn’t you?’
Aslan, not needing a verbal confirmation, rubbed his forehead and asked,
“How many casualties so far?”
“Two hundred. Not many yet, but the number will rise.”
“How much higher do you think it will go?”
“Until it consumes the entire city. We estimate… around forty thousand.”
Aslan didn’t hesitate any longer.
His plans might be disrupted. New variables might emerge.
He might have to take a longer, more circuitous route to his destination.
But that was all.
A minor detour. A manageable change, something he and his companions could handle.
If a slight change of plans could save forty thousand lives, it was a price he was willing to pay.
It was the right thing to do.
And it was something only he could do.
Aslan’s teal eyes met the Duke’s.
“Very well. I accept your request.”
The Duke let out a sigh of relief, though he quickly masked it, as if wanting to project an image of a strong leader concerned for his people.
“Thank you. Then…”
As the Duke’s gaze shifted, Aslan followed it, his eyes drawn to the cloth-covered object that had been bothering him since he entered the tent.
He didn’t know what it was, but it was clearly connected to whatever was attacking Kardi, whatever was capable of killing forty thousand people.
And it was likely connected to the gods.
Aslan looked at the Duke, who turned, their eyes meeting.
A flicker of fear in the Duke’s eyes, a fear unbecoming of a high-ranking nobleman. Aslan’s curiosity piqued.
“This might be… disturbing. But I want you to see this. We had to melt it down in a furnace to… contain it.”
The Duke spoke, then, with a look of grim determination, reached for the cloth and pulled it away.
–Flap.
The cloth fell away, revealing a large, rectangular block of metal.
It was thick and heavy, as if intended for forging a Giant’s weapon, and embedded within it was a strange, alien substance.
The substance pulsed and writhed, its form disturbingly organic.
The Duke pointed at it.
“…What do you think this is?”
“A monster,”
Angie replied before Aslan could speak. Aslan, wanting to understand, remained silent.
It was a grotesque, almost indescribable, thing.
A macabre parody of a human, its insides turned out, its intestines woven into ropes, its bones – its spine, its ribs, every sharp edge – shattered and embedded within those ropes of flesh.
The vaguely humanoid shape was discernible only from the small, skull-like structure embedded in the center of its chest, surrounded by a skeletal ribcage, its flesh stripped away, its muscles exposed.
And where its head should have been, a gaping maw, like a split flower bud, dripped with viscous fluid, its edges lined with eight claw-like marks.
Aslan, staring at the gruesome sight, finally spoke.
“…What is this?”
“What does it look like?”
Aslan didn’t answer. He simply looked at the Duke, his own eyes wide with a startled confusion, an emotion rarely seen in him.
The Duke, after a moment of silence, replied, his voice grim,
“It was… a child. Or rather, something wearing the skin of a child.”
Aslan, struggling to maintain his composure, examined the grotesque form.
The only indication of its former humanity was the small size of the skull.
“These creatures… they mimic humans. They eat, sleep, talk, act like normal people… and then they transform into this and attack. Two hundred people have already died.”
But he couldn’t calm down.
He had played Eternal Dominion countless times, his total playtime exceeding four digits. He had seen every ending, hundreds of times.
And he had never seen anything like this.
An unknown monster, something not in the game.
The image of the widowed goddess flashed through his mind.
‘He… this being you should fear… he set the trap, but he has never shown himself to you, not directly.’
Her words, her warning. Aslan’s heart pounded in his chest.
This unknown monster, its very existence, confirmed his suspicions.
“These creatures… are followers of the Formless One. Disguised as humans… there are dozens of them in Kardi.”
The Formless One.
A new god, one that hadn’t existed in the game, along with the Twilight Flock. A god no one had ever seen, a god whose very existence, let alone its followers, was shrouded in mystery.
Aslan had to know.
Was this the being that had trapped him in Gelladrion?
Or was it simply a hidden god, its presence unknown until now?
The Duke’s voice, filled with a desperate urgency, brought him back to the present.
“Help us, Master of Battle. Destroy the Formless One’s followers who are hiding within Kardi.”
Aslan, while wanting to prevent further loss of life, now had a more pressing reason to go to Kardi.
He took a deep breath, composing himself.
“How did you know that this was a follower of the Formless One?”
The Formless One was a god whose existence had been confirmed, but its true nature, its powers, its domain, remained unknown.
If the Duke knew this creature was one of its followers, there was only one explanation.
Aslan’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and demanding, and the Duke nodded.
“You’re perceptive. I obtained this information through negotiations with a priest of the Poison-Breathing Dragon.”
“As I suspected.”
Only another god could identify a follower of the Formless One. Aslan closed his eyes, piecing together the information.
A god that had never revealed itself, a god that might be responsible for trapping him in Gelladrion,
A god whose followers were now disguised as humans, infiltrating a city.
It seemed like a hopeless situation, but the fact that the Duke had negotiated with a priest offered a glimmer of hope.
There were no variables here. He could predict the outcome.
He opened his eyes, his voice filled with a newfound confidence.
“I’ll eliminate them within two weeks. Start preparing these things.”
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