Melusine, Become my Noble Phantasm!

Anyone who could alert their own familiar like that couldn't be an ordinary human. They must possess magical power. So, a magician? But why would a magician appear in such a remote mountain forest?

Aslan frowned, weighing the possibilities. Regardless of this magician's purpose, the deep forest was the only path in or out. Taking a detour seemed impractical—he wanted to reach the nearest town quickly, change into modern clothes, and savor modern food.

If he could just suppress his aura a bit more—using the magic Morgan had taught him—would a modern magician still be able to detect him? If so, that magician would be extraordinarily powerful.

With that thought, Aslan pressed on. If he couldn't even have this small confidence, then his 1,500 years of life had been wasted. No matter how much he enjoyed himself over those years, boredom always crept in. And boredom naturally meant finding something interesting to study—magic, of course, was the perfect choice.

After all, countless beings in the inner sea of the star understood magic's secrets, each with their own unique spells. While Aslan couldn't learn their unique magic, there was no shortage of techniques he could master.

Once relying only on his familiarity with fairy writing, now Aslan had mastered a vast array of magic—enough to make him stand out on his own.

He lightened his steps, letting his breath blend into nature like the fairies he'd lived alongside so long. After all this time, simulating their breath with magic was no challenge.

Yet no matter how carefully he tread, he inevitably brushed grass and plants, causing faint sounds. Rather than slow down, it was better to create a magical barrier around himself that blocked sound propagation.

Anyone versed in sound propagation knew sound cannot travel in a vacuum.

In effect, Aslan created a magic barrier with a vacuum core around himself—though it wasn't perfect.

In fact, some beings in the inner sea of stars could isolate all sound completely using sound-sealing magic—the secret technique of their race. But since Aslan's bloodline classified him as a Western dragon, he was barred from joining those clans.

Still, complete isolation wasn't essential. So long as human ears couldn't pick up the sound, it was enough.

At the same time, Aslan extended his magical senses to detect life nearby. Though perception magic caused subtle sounds and movements, his magic regenerated quickly, so the cost didn't bother him.

Aslan had absolute confidence—he could crush any magician in this era without difficulty.

Up ahead, a group of magicians had prepared modern firearms alongside magic. They specialized in covert operations unfit for public eyes. Traditionally, magicians looked down on firearms, but too many things had changed over the past hundred years.

There was Danic, a magician who had once allied with a mustachioed man to gain forbidden strength and secrets—though ultimately failing, his influence spread the idea of borrowing ordinary humans' powers.

More recently, the assassin Emiya Kiritsugu had stunned the magical world by using modern thermal weapons to kill countless magicians with deadly efficiency.

This sudden rise of firearms in magic assassinations had attracted many followers, despite the disdain of purists who saw it as lowering their status.

But it had to be admitted: firearms made assassinations far simpler.

Even those reluctant to admit it quickly realized—oh my God, this thing works so well.

Think about it: a magic bullet that takes ages to gather and launch can now be replaced by tiny metal bullets fired in rapid succession by a machine gun. A powerful fireball with explosive effect, painstakingly learned over months, could be substituted with a rocket launcher.

Only a fool would still rely solely on magic.

"Oh, you mean the really powerful or unique magic? Come on. If they had access to that, would they even be assassins? This work is for the latecomers, the weak, or magicians whose families have fallen."

The highest tier of magic available to these assassins equaled the firepower of modern weapons, making their missions straightforward.

So why not use both? Status is a luxury only noble magicians cling to. They need to survive.

"Did you say this lowers your status? I never said that. I said we should boldly try what we haven't before—ha… hahaha."

Though firearms had spread among smaller groups, none matched the fearsome reputation of the legendary assassin wielding the origin bomb.

One magician loaded a rocket into a launcher, checked the sight, and aimed at his boss.

"Boss, everything's ready. With this firepower, we can keep the target trapped in this valley. But what if he brings others?"

The one-eyed boss sipped his drink, muffling it to avoid detection, then smiled confidently.

"Don't worry. The disguised driver sent word—the target's here. If he has others, we kill them too. We cannot let anyone know this is an assassination."

Even the most notorious assassins survive so long as their families don't know who hired them. Silencing witnesses and suppressing news is the key to survival.

-End Chapter-

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