Velus Ma'kel
Velus Ma'kel
"More precisely, whether you need our help."
Aslan reversed himself without hesitation. Ileina's expression showed she hadn't followed, but Aslan offered no explanation.
"Do you know who I am?"
"...Yes, Lord Aslan. I know very well."
What people called him: the Emperor Slayer.
What the War God called him: Master of Combat.
Aslan's name was not confined to the Northern Continent. There was nowhere in the world it hadn't been heard.
Perhaps remembering that, a faint wariness settled into Ileina's eyes.
But considering her father had died by his hand, the wariness was strangely thin.
Aslan laughed inwardly at how little this differed from the game.
He knew the Emperor had never been a beloved father.
Quite the opposite. Ileina had loathed him.
The girl sitting before him now — Ileina, half-sister to the Emperor currently on the throne. When you remembered that her mother had been offered up to the War God, her hatred made perfect sense.
Ileina hated her father, and she hated the War God. In the game, at least.
'Just as expected.'
Aslan smiled and spoke.
"Why do you think I'm here?"
"You don't seem... to have walked into a trap."
Someone else might have entertained the possibility, but Ileina understood exactly what kind of man stood before her.
After all, the Imperial House of the Kallus Empire had served the War God for a very long time.
And a connection to the War God meant access to detailed intelligence on the Masters — intelligence you were required to memorize.
Ileina knew perfectly well that the Master of Combat was not the sort to blunder into a trap.
"I came to help you."
In that context, the words he let fall made no sense.
Ileina, who had been wearing a puzzled expression, opened her mouth to press the question —
"You want to become Emperor, don't you?"
And froze at Aslan's quiet words.
Deep doubt clouded the girl's sky-blue eyes.
Even if she was acting, Aslan spoke with certainty.
"Don't you want to build a mighty empire without borrowing the War God's hand?"
"You..."
Ileina's frozen face slowly regained animation, then filled with astonishment.
Watching it, Aslan smiled inwardly.
"An Emperor who lets Warrior Monks strut openly through the Imperial Palace and bows his head to the War God — is that truly a righteous empire?"
"What are you saying..."
"Haven't you ever thought about setting things right?"
Aslan extended his hand, and Ileina's shocked gaze followed the movement.
"You have thought about it. But you gave up. I can guess why. No power, no faction — isn't that it?"
The sky-blue eyes had been trembling roughly. Their movement slowly stilled, and at last the girl met Aslan's gaze.
The emotions in those eyes were gradually scraped away, worn down, until only one remained.
Suspicion.
"What do you want?"
She had finally arrived at the point he'd been drawing her toward. Aslan let his smile relax.
"Nothing."
"Excuse me?"
Ileina's question came sharply, and Aslan erased his smile.
"I'm doing this because it's the right thing."
"The right... thing?"
Ileina echoed the words, baffled. She wasn't the only one to react.
Harod stared blankly at Aslan, and Angie wore an unreadable expression — the same look she'd worn when they hunted the hag and built its cairn.
Aslan could easily guess why. Geladrion was not the world he'd once lived in. It did not share the moral sense he knew.
A world where no one thought the existence of evil gods was strange, where no one rebelled against their cruel fate but simply adapted to it.
That was Geladrion. A world where humanity and morality had lost.
"In any case, what matters now isn't what I want. It's what you want."
But this wasn't the time to argue the point. Arguing it would have been pointless anyway.
Beliefs and words without action were empty things, and he wasn't about to demonstrate action right this moment.
Pushing the thought aside, Aslan looked at the girl. She lowered her eyes, deliberated, and finally answered.
"...If I did want it, could you help me?"
Reading the desperation in her gaze, Aslan asked,
"Before that, would you tell me how much you already know?"
"How much I..."
"About the current situation."
He spoke calmly, and Ileina considered for a moment.
"I don't know the precise details, but... the Warrior Monks inside the Imperial Palace are gathering. They're preparing an ambush. And I thought... the target of that ambush was you."
She didn't seem to know the reason for the ambush or who was behind it. She closed her mouth and looked up at Aslan.
"Yes, that's right. The ambush is being prepared for us. More precisely, it's an ambush being prepared for me."
The name 'Master of Combat' was heavy. Heavier still compared to titles like Master of the Sword or Master of Blunt Weapons.
To be called Master of Combat meant that, among countless masters, you understood one thing best: how to achieve Victory.
It was practically the symbol of Victory itself, guaranteed by a god.
But even that wasn't enough to warrant being summoned directly to the Imperial Palace so they could lay an ambush with multiple Warrior Monks.
Ileina couldn't understand it, and because she couldn't, she looked at Aslan.
"Because I am a Scion of the Ancient God."
At the casual lie, Ileina's eyes flew wide.
"...Master of Combat, Emperor Slayer... and a Scion of the Ancient God as well...?"
Comprehension joined the astonishment. Ileina had finally grasped the reason for the ambush.
Harod, who had been watching in silence, abruptly spoke.
"What in the world is this Scion of the Ancient God, that it causes such a commotion?"
Ileina's sky-blue eyes registered Harod belatedly.
Seeing her slightly flustered, Aslan stepped in ahead of her.
"This is my companion. Harod Claw, a Dragon-kin warrior from Belus Alpen. Please don't mind him — speak freely."
A Dragon-kin's appearance was inherently threatening, but having dealt with Warrior Monks, the girl showed little reaction.
"Ah... I see. First... we don't know very much about the Scions ourselves. But we do know one thing clearly: every god covets the Scions of the Ancient God."
Ileina said this and drew her hands together, lowering her eyes.
"What I've heard is that a Scion possesses power beyond humanity — and also something the gods desire. I don't know precisely what they possess, but... if the gods want it, it must be something significant."
At that, the corner of Angie's mouth twitched.
Ileina had no idea why the girl in front of her was reacting that way. Angie's expression was embarrassed and yet faintly pleased.
'So the phrase "power beyond humanity" makes her that happy.'
Looking at Angie, abruptly cheerful, Aslan let out a soft laugh.
At any rate, Ileina finished speaking and looked at Aslan.
"If you truly are a Scion, Lord Aslan... I can understand them going this far. If anything, they're being restrained."
Aslan agreed. If he were a god, he would stop at nothing to obtain a Scion.
The current situation, then, was a clear sign: the gods were underestimating him.
When she finished, Ileina lifted her lowered eyes. Her sky-blue gaze took in Aslan and his party as she asked,
"So, what do you intend to do? You said you would help me... but I don't understand how, or how you plan to get out of this situation."
She added flatly,
"I'll say it now: taking me hostage won't solve anything. My value within the Imperial Palace is not high. They'll be upon us before long, so if you have a plan, you need to tell me quickly."
She had apparently already considered the scenario of using her as a hostage to escape, and she spoke with firm dismissal. Aslan did not deny it.
Nor did he lay out his plan.
He only pulled up the corner of his mouth.
"None of that matters."
Because everything was going according to plan.
"The most important thing depends on your will."
"...What?"
Ileina had the expression of someone pretending not to understand the situation. Aslan smiled as he looked at the girl.
The Kallus Empire was a place saturated with open worship of the War God. Under the War God's backing, it had repeated violent territorial expansions without the slightest hesitation.
From the very first encounter in the game, it hit the player from behind — a faction seemingly designed to be a hostile power.
Ileina was the character with the most distinctive appearance conditions within that Empire.
She only emerged and took the throne after the Emperor of the Kallus Empire had been killed twice.
Her personality was relatively decent. She didn't antagonize the player much, and she seemed to dislike gods enough to make visible moves to suppress the faith.
In the game, at least.
And through this conversation, Aslan could see that the girl before him was not significantly different from the girl in the game.
That was why he had deliberately walked into the trap and sought her out.
To grasp what kind of person Ileina was, and if possible, to plant a favorable impression in advance.
The Kallus Empire was a vast power that had swallowed nearly half the Northern Continent. Having it at his back would be ideal. Even if that failed, simply keeping it neutral would be a gain.
The single problem was the girl's temperament.
Compared to her ambition, her fighting spirit was lacking.
You could tell just from the fact that it took two Emperors dying before she finally took the throne.
So Aslan spoke quietly to the girl whose pupils were wavering.
"You already know."
She had no faction. Her strength was insufficient. So she had convinced herself she couldn't win and lived quietly.
She would follow her good nature into minor defiance, but nothing more.
The girl had never fought because she believed she had no chance of victory.
What she needed, Aslan thought, was a little groundwork and a bit of counsel.
"You cannot achieve Victory without fighting."
"..."
The girl was silent, watching him. She had realized he had seen through her, and she abandoned the pretense of ignorance. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress.
"You might be defeated. Yes — there is no guarantee you'll win. Of course, you might win. Until you fight, you can never know. But."
Just then, approaching footsteps became audible. The girl flinched and turned her head, but when Aslan placed a hand on her shoulder, she looked back at him.
"If you don't fight, your defeat is absolute. Victory will never come into your hands unless you fight."
Ileina closed her mouth at that. She fell silent, her expression a tangle of emotions.
Aslan removed his hand from her shoulder and looked toward the door.
Knock, knock.
The sound echoed. Aslan spoke in a low voice, too quiet to carry outside.
"It's the same right now. I know very well it's a trap. I know exactly what the Emperor wants, and I know the Warrior Monks are waiting to ambush me. I came knowing all of it — every last part."
"...You walked into a trap... willingly?"
The girl's expression was incredulous. Aslan smiled gently and told her a lie. He could hardly tell her he had come because of Ileina.
"The Warrior Monks couldn't gather in full — the other priests and the gods' interference saw to that. On the other hand, my side has me: the Master of Combat, a Scion of the Ancient God. And I have my companions. They don't know my methods, don't know what I'm capable of. They have no idea what I can truly do."
The gentle smile disappeared, and something cold and weary flickered across his face instead.
"Nothing is easier than fighting an opponent who has already shown you every card they hold."
You cannot achieve Victory unless you fight. Murmuring the words, Aslan stepped past Ileina and approached the door.
"Watch closely."
With those final words, he threw the door open. As the door swung roughly aside, Kornil Ashud, waiting beyond it, flinched rigid.
"...Ah, ahem, Lord Aslan. Excellent timing. His Majesty seeks you. Please, follow me."
The man's frozen expression smoothed into arrogance as he spoke.
[Main Quest in Progress]
[ ! Audience with the Emperor]
Watching that punchable face become half-obscured by the system window, Aslan smiled faintly.