Margrave Saenggirus
Margrave Saenggirus
"Aslan told you?"
Their cover was blown. Angie glanced at Aslan, searching for an explanation, but he shook his head. The Margrave read their silent exchange and spoke.
"He didn't tell me a thing. I worked it out myself."
He'd read it in their movements alone. Angie flinched at how easily they'd been seen through, but the Margrave simply beamed at her.
"That look on your face says you're wondering how. This is Saingirus territory. It sits right where the War God's sphere grinds against the influence of the Cosmic Inevitability. A place blind to divine currents doesn't last long here."
Angie blinked, not fully grasping the explanation. The Margrave pointed at Aslan.
"Aslan's confirmation sealed it, of course. But given that you fought a high priest in the Imperial Capital, and that even sluggish gods like the Predator or the Abyss are stirring, there wasn't much to puzzle over. The gods have never moved like this since the day they first stirred. The answer was simple."
He smiled with easy confidence. Angie wore a complicated expression as she watched that unhurried composure while the Margrave helped Harod to his feet.
"In any case, Aslan came to me for help. Asked me to hide him. And I agreed. That was a week ago."
Angie knew the rest. She'd been unconscious for a week and had only just woken. Yet even with her limited education, she could tell the Margrave's intentions were opaque.
The suspicion lingered on her face as she asked, "...Why are you helping us?"
She ought to use formal speech with a noble older than herself. The thought struck her belatedly, and she tacked on an awkwardly polite ending. The Margrave shrugged.
"Because I owe Aslan a debt. Isn't that right?"
A debt?
Angie looked puzzled. The Margrave let out a hearty laugh.
"Aslan saved my daughter when she was dying from a wild mage's curse. Hunted down the mage, put an end to him, broke the curse. Then he left without taking a reward."
Aslan smiled wryly. He didn't seem displeased by the reminder.
"You did accept a purse of gold."
"Only because you refused the marriage."
Angie, who had been quietly following the exchange, went wide-eyed.
Only Harod — too exhausted and too Dragon-kin for his face to be easily read — remained impassive.
"You know perfectly well. A man like me would only bring you regret."
"That's far from certain. What does a lack of noble blood matter? My daughter is rather fond of you. The offer still stands."
"You know that's not the real reason. Regardless, I must decline. Marriage is a luxury I can't afford."
Aslan and the Margrave spoke as if the matter were trivial. Neither seemed interested in persuading the other, and the topic ended in mutual indifference.
Angie stared at them, flustered. "Is this what they call a betrothal?"
"...Mm, marriage more than betrothal. I meant to make him my heir as well."
The Margrave answered Angie's question.
A live-in son-in-law, so to speak. Angie couldn't understand why Aslan would refuse such an offer, yet she felt an inexplicable wave of relief alongside her confusion.
Aslan kept his eyes lowered. A clear regret flickered there — not a recent one, but something far older.
Angie, about to ask something, saw the regret and swallowed her words.
"Right, then."
The Margrave clapped his hands, drawing their attention, and fixed his gaze on Angie.
"Any more questions?"
"...No."
"Then let's get to the point."
He nodded at Angie's reply.
"House Saingirus has never left a debt unpaid. You asked to be hidden. I'll do just that. You're only three — not exactly a large party. Shouldn't be hard to keep you out of sight."
True enough. Angie certainly thought so. But Aslan shook his head.
"Forgive the deception. The truth is, you cannot hide us."
"...Hm?"
Aslan explained to the puzzled Margrave. Or rather, he spun an explanation laced with half-truths.
"They can sense the Last Descendant of the Ancient God. They already know we're here."
A lie anchored in truth.
It was knowledge Aslan alone possessed, earned from experience within the game. The starting point — and the final destination — of the next main quest was right here: the territory of the Margrave of Saingirus.
The Margrave's face hardened. Aslan watched it set and spoke.
It was the only choice that would let them live.
Angie and Harod, caught off guard by the sudden swerve, could only blink.
"So let me tell you what I'm truly asking. Fight alongside us."
The Margrave's expression remained rigid.
"...Are you telling me to spend the lives of my people and my soldiers for your sake?"
His shift in demeanor was understandable. Only moments ago he'd been warm. Taking on an entire cult was no small thing. Aslan closed his eyes a moment and chose his words carefully. When he'd found them, he spoke.
"Help us or don't. Either way, the Cosmic Inevitability will attack this place."
The Margrave said nothing and kept his silence. Aslan, grateful for his patience, continued.
"This is a strategic junction. It opens to the Kingdom of Bida, the Baramunz Mountain Kingdom, and by sea to the Southern Continent and the City of Mages."
The city of Saingirus, perched beside a salt lake and a sturdy fortress.
It sat on the border between two kingdoms, yet it was the empire's spearhead — a maritime route from the lake that kept it open to the wider world.
"Even if we'd slipped away without asking for help, they would still attack this place. Burn it to ashes. Use the rubble as a divining rod to find their next destination."
"Huh..."
The Margrave pressed his eyes shut and exhaled. He seemed to accept Aslan's reasoning.
In other circumstances he would have dismissed it as absurd. But the circumstances had changed. The term Last Descendant of the Ancient God carried that much weight.
"I'm not asking you to fight beside us — or in our place. I will lead the fighting myself. And at my side will stand a Last Descendant of the Ancient God."
The Margrave looked at Aslan, who spoke with certainty and placed a hand on Angie's shoulder. She flinched at the fighting spirit blazing in his eyes.
"We can win this."
The potential of the Last Descendant was staggering. Even the gods coveted it. And the Master of Combat had proven his abilities time and again. The world knew his deeds. The Margrave couldn't dismiss the confidence.
Because he didn't dismiss it, Aslan pressed on.
"This is my proposal. Fight with us. Lend us your soldiers, your weapons, your ground."
"...And if I do, what will you give me in return?"
"Vengeance against the Cosmic Inevitability that stole your wife. And a chance to utterly destroy a high priest they hold dear."
The Margrave fell into thought. An offer made of truth alone, sincerity alone. The confidence burning in Aslan's fierce eyes and the weight of his voice gave him genuine pause. This went beyond repaying a debt — far beyond — but still, he wavered. The hesitation soon found a voice.
"Are you that confident? We're talking about a high priest. You yourself said she was a high priest you couldn't handle."
He had said that. Ereta was formidable. A high priest, yes, but also a Master of Blunt Weapons — a monster of a woman. That, however, held true only within the bounds of priesthood. Was she unbeatable? No. There existed beings in the world stronger than her.
"If we were facing another god's high priest, no matter what we did, we couldn't win right now. But... Saintess of Slaughter Ereta is a fight we can take."
The Margrave waited for an answer, and Aslan gave it.
"The Cosmic Inevitability is a god divided into three. They style themselves with the grandiose title of the Three Evil Gods. Unlike other deities, they're a tripartite god of destruction."
As the name suggested, their domain was the end of the universe. Three gods presiding over the universe's final annihilation.
The Fire-weaving Spider that would spin flame to consume all creation.
The Poison-spitting Dragon that would dissolve the world into a single pool of venom.
The Ground-Breaking Giant whose footfalls would shatter and scatter all things to dust.
Three and yet one. Distinct, yet their power was not.
"Three beings of a single god. Each holds one-third of a full god's power. They only become whole when united. And their high priests reflect that — they can't compare to other high priests."
The Cosmic Inevitability had three high priests. One for each of the Three Evil Gods. Their numbers were greater, but individually their power was weaker than a single high priest of another god. "That weakness is what allowed Ereta to become a Master of Blunt Weapons — to master the pinnacle of human martial arts in her own body."
"A high priest's power combined with mastery... that's still a troublesome opponent, isn't it?"
"Troublesome, yes. But not unbeatable. We can win."
The Margrave considered Aslan's proposal. Had personal vengeance been the only thing on offer, he would have refused. But this was a choice survival demanded. Personal revenge followed in its wake, but survival came first. It wasn't the deciding factor.
The Margrave intended to fulfill his duty as a lord. And the fact that it also repaid a debt made it almost impossible to refuse. So tempting, in fact, that for a moment it aroused suspicion.
He hesitated, studying Aslan. But the hesitation didn't last.
Aslan had saved his daughter and taken no reward. When offered marriage into the family, he'd refused — claiming that if he stayed, tragedy would surely follow. Instead, he'd departed, calling it nothing more than what any decent man would have done. He'd taken a handful of gold, true. But measured against the life of a great noble's daughter, it was a pittance.
The Margrave knew Aslan's character. He let out a long breath.
"If anyone else had made this offer, I'd have refused on the spot — called it an obvious trap."
"...Is that so?"
"It's because you've already proven yourself that I can believe you."
The Margrave extended his hand. Aslan looked at it quietly for a moment, then took it and gave a brief shake. A handshake.
At its conclusion, the Margrave spoke. "I accept your proposal. Let me fight at your side."
A faint smile rose on Aslan's face. It was a clean smile, free of calculation.
"Then let's kill a high priest."