Chapter 55: If Fate Allows, Let Us Meet Again

The Sword of Glorious Victory didn't change Aslan's rhythm of life or his general attitude, but his own dragon seemed a bit jealous of the sword that now hung at his waist. There was nothing he could do about it—he and the Sword of Glorious Victory were in their honeymoon phase. The sword clung to his side constantly, and Aslan couldn't shake it off.

Can you imagine what it feels like to go out shopping, turn your head, and see a gleaming golden sword following you around?

To avoid attracting too much attention, Aslan had started going out less frequently. After all, he wasn't the kind of person who enjoyed living under constant public scrutiny.

He remained in the city ruled by King Fischer for quite some time. One day, while he was eating, he suddenly sensed an overwhelming surge of magical power. Without hesitation, he picked the best shield from among the ones he had forged during his stay and set it up in front of himself and another person. The next instant, an immense force crashed directly into the shield.

The building began to collapse, cracks spreading across the shield. The powerful magic washed over everything, even scouring the earth beneath. Given that this was already the twilight of the Age of Gods, after such destruction, this land would no longer be able to grow plants or grain for a long time to come.

Even if Balin was his friend, from a rational perspective, just this one strike alone would mean that his eventual death could not be considered innocent—not after causing so much ruin to this land.

Of course, Balin only unleashed the spear for the sake of self-preservation.

Looking at the destroyed building, Aslan tossed aside the broken shield in his hand. As he marveled at the terrifying power of the Spear of Longinus, he turned toward the ruins of the castle, simultaneously using his magic to probe for any remaining powerful weapons. The most powerful, undoubtedly the one wielded just now, could only have come from Balin.

"Let's go, Melusine. Time to meet an old friend. Once we're done, this little excursion of ours will finally be complete."

Melusine looked at the lunch that had been utterly destroyed by the aftershock and pouted. If this disaster really had been caused by an old friend of theirs—and if that friend was still on decent terms with them—she was absolutely going to bite him as punishment.

This castle that housed the holy spear had once been among the sturdiest of fortresses. Now, with a single strike, it had been reduced to rubble. And it wasn't just this castle—the surrounding towns had met the same fate. The land looked as though it had been plowed anew, and even the forest had been leveled.

Cries of pain and anguish echoed from the ruins of nearby homes. This wasn't just a fortress; it was home to ordinary people who lived around it. In Chinese terms, Balin now bore far too much blood on his hands.

Hearing those sounds, Aslan couldn't bring himself to leave immediately. Instead, he raised his forge hammer and quickly struck the ground. His magic spread beneath the earth, activating runes in the language of the fae, reshaping the terrain and slowly lifting the debris. He couldn't rescue each person one by one, but at least he could give them a fighting chance.

In front of the ruined castle, a deep trench had been carved into the ground. On either side, the smell of blood hung heavy in the air, and no more cries could be heard. If they had been stronger—perhaps knights—they might have survived the blast with their lives barely hanging on. But ordinary people? They couldn't have withstood the shockwave.

Even those who had survived with Aslan's help would likely never return to full strength. Look at King Fischer—he had taken that attack head-on. Though it didn't kill him, he was left bedridden until the Holy Grail could be found.

Amidst the ruins, drawn by the remaining magical power, Aslan slowly moved the rubble aside, bit by bit, until a familiar figure finally emerged. Time had passed, and the once-dignified Balin had once again become the haggard man he used to be. After being buried under the wreckage for so long, he looked even more miserable than before.

"Cough, cough... Where am I?"

Aslan looked at the battered Balin and pulled the Spear of Longinus from his side. "Yo. Long time no see, Balin. I didn't expect our reunion to come with this much noise. You actually destroyed four cities with the Spear of Longinus. That's going a bit far, don't you think?"

Hearing that familiar voice, Balin squinted. Once his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, he saw the person standing over him and broke into a cheerful grin. "Hahaha! Aslan! It really has been a while. What are you doing here?"

Aslan's expression grew complicated, but in the end, he chose to be honest. "I'm here to retrieve the Spear of Longinus—and to see you one last time. Balin, according to the course of fate, you're about to leave this world."

Balin heard the words and found his thoughts drifting to not so long ago—to when he acquired his second sword.

A noble girl had pleaded with him to return the sacred sword in his hand. He refused. To her, the red-hilted sword wasn't just a cursed relic, but a treasure that rightfully belonged to her. Now that it had been taken, how could she not be desperate?

"I curse you! This sword will bring you to ruin. You'll die in endless regret and sorrow!"

Thinking back now, what had he actually done on this journey?

He met Aslan and received his first sword. Later, he obtained the red-hilted sacred sword, killed a fairy of the lake, defeated many challengers, and helped many others.

But he had also made mistakes. He caused the death of a young couple and brought about the current catastrophe. He'd done both good and bad. If he was truly going to die, and that death came wrapped in regret—well, maybe that really was fate's curse at work.

"So that's how it is... Then I suppose this will be our last meeting."

Balin looked at his old friend with a smile. Even though Aslan had brought bad news—like a crow delivering a death knell—he didn't resent him. If Aslan had tried to sugarcoat the truth or lied to spare his feelings, that would've been more insulting.

Aslan returned the smile. "If fate allows, then let's hold onto hope for miracles. Perhaps one day, far in the future, we'll meet again as Heroic Spirits."