Thousand-Year Ice had been interacting with Historia for quite some time.  

However, since he didn’t know much about Historia herself, he always had many questions about her.  

For example, why did she, someone from the Eastern Kingdom—a nation inhabited solely by beastfolk—use the name Historia, which had no connection to the East?  

He was also curious as to why she lived in such a small forest when she could have led a truly comfortable life in another kingdom or the Eastern Kingdom.  

But at this moment— there was only one thing he was curious about.  

“……Alon Palatio?”  

“Yeah, do you know him?”  

It was about the existence of Alon Palatio.  

Thousand-Year Ice had never heard of him.  

That was only natural.  

Alon was someone who fundamentally stayed buried in the snow-covered mountains.  

Even the name “Eliban” was something Thousand-Year Ice had learned only after being defeated by him and coming down from the mountains in shock at his overwhelming power.  

“Hmm.”  

Marquis Palatio.  

He had come here to ask about Eliban, yet now he was even more intrigued by Alon Palatio.  

What kind of existence was he, for the Sword Saint—who had never once shown a change in emotion—to become so heated?  

“……I was asking about ‘Eliban,’ not ‘Alon Palatio.’”  

“I told you, I know the name.”  

“No, that’s not what I meant. I asked about Eliban, so why are you suddenly bringing up the name Alon Palatio?”  

“So, do you know anything about Alon Palatio?”  

“……I don’t.”  

Tch—  

“……I see.”  

When Thousand-Year Ice shook his head, Historia’s tail, which had been swaying, drooped as she immediately became dejected.  

Seeing this, Thousand-Year Ice was momentarily taken aback.  

Then, unable to contain his curiosity, he cautiously opened his mouth.  

“Is Alon Palatio such an important person?”  

“If you don’t know, then forget it.”  

Historia abruptly turned her head away and even let her ears droop as she sat back down.  

What was going on?  

He had asked about Eliban.  

Yet every answer he received turned into a question about Alon.  

Still, he knew that pressing further about their relationship wouldn’t yield any useful answers.  

Instead, Thousand-Year Ice decided he needed to find out more about Alon Palatio—the person who had so vividly sparked Historia’s interest.  

“……If you want, I can look into him.”  

“Really?”  

Historia’s ears, which had been drooping, perked up halfway again.  

Seeing this change, Thousand-Year Ice nodded.  

He was still curious about Eliban.  

It was astonishing that a young man who looked barely twenty possessed such an absurd level of strength.  

The overwhelming difference in power stirred Thousand-Year Ice’s competitive spirit.  

However, at this moment, he found Historia’s reaction far more intriguing than his own desire to test his strength.  

“It won’t take long.”  

“Thank you.”  

“If I bring back information, will you at least tell me something about Alon Palatio?”  

“Which part?”  

“Anything about him.”  

“……Fine.”  

“Promise me.”  

After securing her promise, Thousand-Year Ice stood up.  

####  

After Seolrang’s enthusiastic welcome—  

The moment Blackie, who had been nestled in Alon’s embrace the entire time, peeked out, she was immediately caught by Seolrang.  

“Waaah! Airplane ride!!”  

[Meowww~!]  

“Higher!”  

[Meowwwwww~!]  

And so, the playtime (?) began.  

“Hiiiigher!!”  

[Meooooow!!]  

It was unclear whether Seolrang was playing with Blackie or Blackie was playing with Seolrang.  

Alon simply watched as Seolrang repeatedly tossed Blackie into the air and caught it again.  

Meanwhile, Blackie seemed to have accepted that once Seolrang caught it, there was no escape, and had resigned itself to simply screaming in despair.  

After some time—  

“I’ll let you go again next time~!”  

[Meow]  

After a few more rounds of tossing and catching, Seolrang finally set Blackie down.  

The moment it was released, Blackie instantly burrowed into Alon’s chest.  

Watching this, Seolrang beamed with satisfaction.  

Alon turned to her and asked,  

“Seolrang, why are you here?”  

“I came to see Master!”  

“You came to see me?”  

“Yeah!”  

“Not because something happened?”  

“Nope!”  

“You just came to see me?”  

“That’s right!”  

Her answer was simple.  

Seolrang looked up at him as if wondering what the problem was.  

Now that he thought about it, the beastfolk she always traveled with were nowhere to be seen.  

“……Is it okay for you to be wandering alone?”  

“Well, it’s not like it’s completely fine, but—”  

“But?”  

“I wanted to see Master!”  

As if expecting praise, she wagged her tail excitedly.  

Seeing this, Alon felt a bit guilty.  

“I made you come all this way. If you had waited a little longer, I would’ve come to you.”  

“Really?”  

“Yeah. I was planning to visit the marquis’s estate before heading to Colony. I should have let you know in advance.”  

“Even better!”  

“……? Is that so?”  

“That means I get to travel with Master until we reach Colony!”  

Her overly positive way of thinking made Alon chuckle unconsciously.  

With that, after catching up as if they were a long-separated father and daughter, they parted ways late that night to return to their respective lodgings.  

The next day, after a restful night, Alon set out for the marquis’s estate with Seolrang.  

####  

Exactly two weeks had passed since Alon left Caliban.  

Just as he was passing through Lartania and nearing the Asteria border—  

“—”  

Alon was thoroughly enjoying a peaceful life.  

Or to be more precise—a “quiet” life.  

And the reason was—  

“—”  

Seolrang was sitting on his lap, pressing his ears down gently.  

At first, when Alon had set out on this journey with Seolrang, he had expected the trip to be quite chaotic.  

After all, he knew very well that she was naturally energetic, loved to play pranks, and couldn’t sit still for even a moment.  

However, contrary to his expectations, the journey had become surprisingly quiet ever since she joined.  

For one, Basiliora had hidden inside his ring and refused to come out.  

On the first day of their journey, he had emerged to pick a fight with Evan for no reason—only to be caught by Seolrang.  

[Graaaah! I’m a male! Males don’t wear clothes like this!!!]  

For reasons unknown, Seolrang had a female-style dress, and she had wrapped Basiliora tightly in it.  

After suffering various other humiliations in the name of “play,” he had been so traumatized that he never came out again.  

Blackie was in a similar situation.  

It had not shown its face outside of his chest from the very first day.  

As a result, Evan was driving the carriage more leisurely than usual, enjoying the surrounding scenery.  

Seolrang, too, spent most of her time either chatting briefly with Alon or resting her head on his lap and dozing off, making for an overall peaceful journey.  

Basiliora and Blackie—  

Since traveling with the two, this was the first time Alon had experienced such tranquility.  

He didn’t dislike this quiet, but in some ways, it felt a little empty.  

Sure, peace and quiet are nice, but this is almost too quiet.  

Back before those two came along, things had been this quiet all the time.  

But now, with how rowdy things had become almost daily, this silence felt somewhat unfamiliar.  

‘I guess this is that feeling of not knowing what you’re missing until it’s gone.’ 

That thought only lasted for a moment before Alon simply shrugged.  

It wasn’t like he disliked traveling with Seolrang, after all.  

Seolrang had a way of making Alon feel like a father in many ways.  

Even now, for instance—  

Perhaps finding the sunlight streaming through the carriage window pleasant, she was drowsily leaning against him, dozing off in relaxation.  

The sight alone made Alon smile without realizing it.  

He had felt this way before, but—  

Whenever Seolrang showed such defenselessness, it reassured him that she truly trusted him, filling his heart with warmth.  

For a while, he gently pressed down on her ears, occasionally stroking her head and enjoying her subtle reactions.  

Then, out of habit, he closed his eyes to observe his inner self.  

By now, he was so used to it that he could check his divine status in an instant without conscious effort.  

As he casually confirmed his usual divine abilities—  

‘…Huh?’  

He suddenly noticed the presence of an additional divine power.  

It was very faint, but it glowed with a grayish hue.  

‘What… is this?’  

Alon’s mind filled with questions.  

####  

The North—  

A land where barbarians constantly pushed southward, and knights ceaselessly fought to hold them back, leading to an unending war.  

Recently, a rumor had spread that Luraka, the spiritual pillar and unifying leader of the barbarians, had gone missing.  

However, as if to refute the rumor, the barbarians’ offensives had only become fiercer, resulting in even more intense battles.  

And deep within this war-ridden land—  

Within the largest of the barbarian tribes, the Blue Toes, once led by Luraka—  

“It… it’s all ready.”  

A man—  

Once Luraka’s right-hand aide and now the new chief of the Blue Toes, Turtur—  

And a woman—  

No, Yutia Bloodia—  

Turtur bowed his head before her.  

“Is that so?”  

“Yes.”  

“Let me see.”  

With a gentle smile, Yutia rose from her seat.  

Turtur immediately sprang up in a near-panic, stepping forward to guide her.  

He led her toward a vast cliffside cave within the Blue Toes’ territory—  

A sacred place that had once been used exclusively for the ritual of selecting a tribal chief.  

“This way.”  

His voice trembled as they entered.  

Following his guidance, Yutia slowly shifted her gaze.  

At the far end of the massive cavern stood an enormous statue— A majestic figure clad in a black coat, wearing a crimson bone mask.  

Beneath the statue knelt countless tribe members, their heads bowed in reverence.  

“Hmm~”  

Yutia carefully observed the expressions of the kneeling tribespeople.  

Each one bore traces of fear—subtle, yet undeniable.  

“…I apologize. I will ensure they are better educated.”  

Perhaps noticing Yutia’s scrutiny, Turtur hastily bowed his head, seeking to amend the situation.  

However, Yutia merely curved her lips into an ambiguous smile and spoke.  

“Turtur.”  

“Y-Yes, my lady?”  

“Do you think I might turn you all into a pool of blood at any moment?”  

“That’s—”  

“You may answer honestly.”  

A moment of silence stretched between them before Turtur, gripping his racing heart, responded.  

“To be honest… yes, I do.”  

The admission left his teeth clenching on their own.  

Had he made a mistake?  

Had he just doomed himself—and the tribe he was meant to protect?  

A wave of regret and fear threatened to consume him.  

But—  

“Thank you.”  

“…What?”  

“Since you were honest with me, I will be honest with you as well. I have no intention of killing you.”  

The response was unexpected.  

Turtur blinked in confusion as Yutia continued.  

“Are you surprised? But it’s the truth. As long as you continue to worship him, I have no reason to harm you.”  

“…Is that truly so?”  

“Yes, truly. As long as you worship him, you are people I must protect.”  

“…Whom do you mean?”  

At Turtur’s cautious inquiry, Yutia merely smiled.  

“All of you.”  

“All… of us?”  

“Yes. Whether it’s your fellow barbarians, the knights blocking your path south, or even the revered god of Sironia—regardless of who it is, I will protect you.”  

Turtur instinctively wanted to ask, Are you serious?—but he bit his tongue.  

The sheer intensity of Yutia’s unwavering fanaticism made his question feel pointless.  

Instead—  

“…Why?”  

“Why what?”  

“…Why go so far for us?”  

He needed a reason.  

How could simple faith in a deity justify such devotion?  

Turtur could not comprehend it.  

Upon his question, Yutia fell into brief contemplation before answering.  

“Because apart from him, I do not care about anything else.”  

“…What do you mean—”  

“I mean it literally. Whether the knights are all slaughtered, the priests are massacred, your people tear down the Allied Kingdom, or even if the world suddenly ends—it does not matter to me.”  

Pausing for a breath, Yutia added,  

“The only thing that matters is him. Nothing else concerns me.”  

Her voice was resolute.  

Her expression had gone blank, her lips murmuring, Nothing else matters…  

Watching her, Turtur instinctively realized—  

This person before him was fundamentally different.  

And she was someone he must never, ever oppose.  

Thus—  

“I understand.”  

Turtur bowed deeply.  

“I’m glad you do.”  

“…But, may I ask one thing?”  

“What is it?”  

“What is the name of the one we worship?”  

Turtur cautiously inquired, understanding the significance of the question.  

At this, Yutia let out a small ah of realization before smiling faintly.  

“You’re right. Then—”  

With a gentle yet unwavering tone, she declared—  

“He shall be known as the Star Eater.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep