After helping Balin stabilize his injuries and explaining the consequences of the hastily fired shot, Aslan took the Spear of Longinus and parted ways with him.
Unlike the spiraled, crimson spear described in legend, this version of the Spear of Longinus was crafted almost entirely from silver, inlaid with scattered traces of gold. It resembled a knight's blade more than a forked lance—tranquil and holy, rather than soaked in blood.
Reflecting on the world of Heroic Spirit summoning in his memories, Aslan remembered that Lucius Longinus—the original bearer of the spear—wielded a blood-red weapon, far closer to the legend.
Aslan carefully appraised the divine artifact in his hand. By all logic, a weapon that had pierced the Son of God should rank at least A++, perhaps even EX if manifested as a treasure. Yet this spear's power hovered only between A+ and A++.
Was this due to the legend that claimed the spear had been shattered into three pieces, reforged separately into new forms? Or was this an entirely different spear—one of several that had pierced the Son of God? Aslan found no urgency in untangling such theological questions.
What mattered more was that this version of the spear suited his needs. Beyond its considerable offensive capabilities, it also carried a potent healing property.
When Percival had become a Heroic Spirit, the spear he wielded bore the seals of Balin and Galahad—restrictions akin to the Thirteen Seals. But now, in Aslan's hands, the weapon was unbound.
It wasn't even known by the same name—Percival had called it [Longinus Count Zero] instead of [Spear of Longinus]. Perhaps the discrepancy wasn't a translation error but an intentional distinction: this wasn't that blood-red lance.
Though Aslan could technically wield it, he shook his head.
Forget it. Spearmen are cursed with bad luck—eight pebbles of fortune split among them, with Zhao Zilong hoarding one and the rest lacking two. That wasn't just a joke. Think about it: how many male spearmen have actually had good luck?
Besides, both he and Balin were trained in swordsmanship. He had no experience with spears. Leaving it in his hands would be a waste.
His plan remained the same: embed the spear within Melusine's dragon body. During her transformations, the spear could be launched like a magical cannon—piercing enemies with terrifying power.
But… it might not be that easy.
The Golden Sword of Victory had already taught him that powerful divine weapons weren't always so cooperative.
Aslan examined the spear, then pulled some leftover materials from his pouch—remnants from repairing the Sword of Victory. Using a semi-reversed forging hammer, he crafted a rope and two pendant-like discs, which he attached to the shaft.
Onto them, he inscribed two fairy blessings: one to enhance divine energy, the other to amplify healing.
Finished, he held the Spear of Destiny out to Melusine. Just as he was about to ask if she could integrate it into her dragon body, the spear flared with radiant silver light. Startled, Melusine dropped it.
The spear bounced once, then flew back into Aslan's hand.
"...Huh?"
Aslan's finely tuned intuition tingled. He realized something peculiar: ever since he'd begun working with weapons and magical gear, he'd developed a strange attraction to unbound relics—like catnip to a feline.
Wait—had he unknowingly flooded the spear with magic while crafting the blessings?
Oh no. Habit kills.
If it had been a regular blade, no big deal. But this was the Spear of Destiny, likely brimming with divine sentience.
He handed it to Melusine again. This time, it didn't just resist—it grew heavier in his hand.
"...You've gotta be kidding me. This again?"
The Spear of Destiny was pulling the same stunt the Golden Sword of Victory once did. Was it… imprinting on him?
If he were ever summoned as a Heroic Spirit, would he qualify not just as a swordsman or knight—but also as a spearman? That thought alone made him shiver. His luck stat would probably collapse on the spot.
With a holy sword at his hip and now a divine spear refusing to leave his side, wasn't this exactly the kind of equipment loadout King Arthur had?
If future storytellers added a little creative license…
No! No, no, no. Aslan quickly shook his head. As long as he lived his story uniquely, that wouldn't happen.
Sensing the competition, the Glorious Sword of Victory glowed gold at Aslan's waist, faint dragon roars echoing around it.
"You little brat!" the sword's aura seemed to shout. "Don't think just because Aslan picked you up, you get to cling to him! I've fought so hard to stand by his side, and now some shiny stick wants to cut in?!"
The spear's silver radiance pulsed in response, casting dazzling beams in the air as it dueled the golden light in a silent contest of dominance.
Watching this ridiculous display, Melusine's cheeks flushed with indignation—not embarrassment, but fury.
"Aslan! First men, then women, and now... swords?! What is your hunting range?!"