Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End

The crimson light shining from the forest slowly scattered, and most of the mess evaporated into a fog.
The students in the nearby dormitories rushed out of their rooms to take a closer look at the forest, but they still couldn’t help but wonder if they were dreaming.

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The terrifying meat giant had been completely vaporized, and the skeleton giant that defeated it had disappeared from sight too.
All that was left were specks of mana that were swiftly being scattered along with the wind, which ironically only made the forest look even more dreamlike. 

Were it not for their still aching heads, they would have definitely thought that it was all an illusion.

The only one amongst the crowd who knew the inside story were Melty and the members of the Request Club, who had just arrived at the scene.
The members of the Request Club cheered joyfully at their victory whereas Melty couldn’t help but shed tears of joy.

It had been so tough, but justice finally triumphed over evil.
Grandar’s magnificent punch vanquished the fear that had been looming inside the hearts of Melty and the members of the Request Club over the past few days.

… 

In the forest, Roel quietly gazed down on Marceus.

The latter’s body was a complete mess.
His robe had turned into rags, and his body was marred with a mess of flesh and blood.
The organs threatening to spill out of the incision on his abdomen were still thumping desperately, but their efforts were likely to be futile with all the blood profusely spilling out of his broken blood vessels.

Marceus wasn’t dead yet, but he had lost far too much of his life force through his tribute.
It was likely that he wouldn’t survive past tonight.
Knowing this, he looked at Roel and feebly cried for help.

“Save me, save me…”

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His quivering eyes reflected his deep fear of death, but Roel was unmoved by his pleas.

He would have to be braindead to entertain the idea of treating an evil cultist.
If he allowed Marceus to catch a breather, the latter would surely pull off another tribute within moments and make a comeback.

“Do I look like a dimwit to you?”

“I-I have intelligence! I’ll offer you intelligence!”

“Intelligence?”

Roel’s eyebrows shot up in interest upon hearing those words.
Seeing a ray of hope, Marceus quickly carried on.

“Did you think that it would be all over after killing me? Our Bloodtribute Cult is nothing but a small organization.
We’re nothing at all before the real powerhouses.
Those on top are currently planning something huge, something similar to what happened four hundred years ago… Gahhhh!” 

“Marceus?”

Marceus’ words suddenly halted halfway through, leaving Roel intrigued.
Before he could investigate what was wrong, Marceus’ body suddenly expanded like a balloon before black flames abruptly burst out from the depths of his body, swiftly engulfing his being.

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“Ahhh!”

“Marceus!”

Roel quickly rushed forward with the intent to put out the flames, but it was already too late.
With a scream of agony, Marceus’ body convulsed for a short while before falling completely still.
In just a few short seconds, his body had been reduced to a pile of bones.

He was dead.

Roel looked at the charred corpse before him with absolute exasperation.

He couldn’t care less about the death of someone who had callously killed so many innocent people, but Marceus was just about to provide him with some critical information! It would appear that someone had planted a spell on Marceus that would trigger as soon as he started talking, and he himself wasn’t aware of it. 

“Damn it!”

Couldn’t you have spoken faster? At least finish your sentence! Four hundred years ago… What am I supposed to do with a mere date? You should have given me a key phrase or something! 

Roel grasped his staff tightly out of frustration, but there was nothing he could do.
He stared at Marceus’ bones lividly for a long time before walking off.

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… 

Half an hour later, a black-haired young man alighted from a carriage at Fulte’s Stop.

After defeating Marceus, Roel first headed back to the Third Residential Sector to confirm that Melty was safely under the protection of the Request Club before rushing toward the next battlefield.

With Marceus dead, it was unlikely that the other evil cultists hiding in the wine cellar would be able to rally any reinforcements and retaliate against the Enforcement Division.
Despite knowing this, Roel still couldn’t help but worry about it. 

Marceus’ earlier blood tribute to summon the evil god reminded him of the unfathomable means of the evil cultists.
When pushed to a corner, the evil cultists could resort to extreme means and bite back hard. 

Of course, Paul and the others were no pushovers either, but it was also true that they were lacking in experience.
It wasn’t likely that any of them would slip up so badly as to die to the evil cultists, but there was a high possibility that they might still end up sustaining some injuries.
If so, he could conduct emergency treatment using Ascendwing and Peytra’s power to alleviate their suffering. 

Other than that, he also felt unnerved by Marceus’ dying words. 

He sensed that there were powers far more sinister than the Bloodtribute Cult lurking in the shadows of this city.
They were likely to be much more powerful than the Bloodtribe Cult, and they could pose a huge threat to them.
He felt that there was an urgent need to find Lilian and discuss this matter. 

After a quick scan, he noticed that there were flames coming from Louise Manor, so he quickly scaled across two hills to make his way over.
As soon as he arrived, he heard crying sounds coming from the manor. 

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Alarmed, he quickly charged right in, only to breathe a huge sigh of relief upon seeing that everything was under control. 

It was the members of the Enforcement Division who were guarding the key locations of the building, and none of them appeared to be wounded.
They hesitated for a moment before directing a nod toward Roel to acknowledge his presence, albeit with awful looks on their faces. 

The few members of the Bluerose Faction also looked fine too, though their complexion looked a little pale.
They were all leaning against the wall, retching endlessly.

“I can’t… I can’t puke anymore.”

“Uweh! Big brother Roel, you’re here.
Pardon me, I… Uwehh!”

Upon seeing Roel, Paul tried to report the situation to him, only to be impeded by his retching.
As for Geralt, he was so severely weakened from all the puking he had done that he couldn’t even stand up straight anymore.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything.
I understand.”

There was no way he wouldn’t figure what was going on with the overwhelming stench pervading the manor and the sobbing noises coming from the female students of the Enforcement Division.
He glanced at the entrance of the bloodied wine cellar and frowned deeply.

I’m finally here at this accursed place