"Who is it?!"
Aslan tore the pendant from around his neck, and it transformed into a silver-white holy spear. He leveled the tip directly at the girl who had suddenly appeared. Even the Supreme Masterpiece reacted, the hatch snapping shut as its arm shifted into a cannon muzzle aimed squarely at her. Anyone who could slip past its perception and scanning systems was no ordinary threat.
At least her armor was unlike anything he had seen before. The golden-haired girl seemed to realize her mistake, regretting her impulsive outburst. Why had she revealed herself so recklessly? That giant construct radiated divine power… could it be that the man before her was truly tied to the gods?
The girl gave a helpless smile and slowly raised both hands in a standard French salute, hoping to signal her harmlessness.
Aslan's eyes flicked toward the cloak clutched in her hand. Following his gaze, the girl quickly tossed it aside, as though she had never touched it in the first place.
He stepped forward and studied the discarded cloak. With his Mystic Eyes, he easily identified its composition and function. The weave of fairy script was unmistakable, written in exactly the same style he knew.
So this was not a wholly alien world after all. Different, yes—but still bound by rules familiar to him. And that cloak, forged of woven metals rather than simple cloth, could block even the scans of the Supreme Masterpiece.
In other words, the girl standing before him might very well be its creator.
"Who are you?" Aslan narrowed his eyes. His posture radiated the kind of shameless confidence only a seasoned trickster could muster. He knew that in foreign territory, the strong dragon must still bow to the local serpent—unless he acted as though this place already belonged to him.
And Aslan was nothing if not shameless. Spending so much time around Merlin had rubbed off on him, after all. Any bad habits could be laid squarely at that man's feet. He even made a mental note: Next time, I'm hitting Merlin over the head with this hammer.
The girl blinked, studying him carefully. His crimson hair, the faint glow of his Mystic Eyes—her face lit up with sudden inspiration. She ran forward, dropped to her knees, and clung to his legs.
With suspiciously theatrical timing, she produced a handkerchief and a tiny vial of eyedrops. A few drops later, tears gushed down her face as she began to wail.
"You asked who I am? Have you really forgotten me, big brother? How could you—after so long apart—be so cruel when fate has finally reunited us? Waaaah! Cough, cough—agh, my eyes! Why do these eyedrops sting so much?!"
The girl flailed dramatically, half from genuine pain. She had apparently chosen the wrong bottle—onion-flavored eyedrops. Her tears now flowed endlessly, burning her eyes and nose alike.
Aslan twitched his lips. To keep acting like this in such a situation… what a talent. People like this are the ones who actually accomplish things.
"Let go. Who are you, really?" His tone was flat.
The blonde girl took a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with the same power as his Mystic Eyes. "Brother! Look at me—my golden hair, my eyes just like yours! I am your long-lost sister!"
She clung tighter, words spilling out in a flood of melodrama:
"Big brother, how could you become a running dog of the gods? Please, stop serving them! There are no good gods—they're only using you! But if you truly cannot betray them, then at least spare your pitiful sister. I'm still so young, barely twenty years old! I haven't even completed my masterpiece yet. Don't you agree that dreamers deserve protection? Dreams are precious!"
Her tone shifted instantly, her tear-stained face tilting into mock flattery. "So~"
Her eyes, red from both onions and tears, streamed endlessly, snot trickling from her nose. The emotional impact of her speech might have been stronger had she not looked utterly ridiculous.
But Aslan saw more than her theatrics. Her hair, her eyes, the identical Mystic Eyes, even the writing style of the fairy script—it was all undeniably similar to his own.
If he hadn't known for certain that he was an only child, he might have believed her claims. But since she was not truly his sister, only one other possibility remained.
Aslan covered his face with one hand and let out a bitter laugh. What a joke fate has played.
-End Chapter-
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