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

Chapter 293: To Be With God

At the eastern city gates of Leinster, a scrawny middle-aged man, accompanied by countless white-robed disciples holding torches in their hands, tightly encircled a black-haired man.

The night gale wouldn’t stop roaring, but the air here seemed to have gone completely still.

Bradley’s voice boomed under the night sky, prompting everyone to turn their eyes toward Roel and await his response.

That question proved to be a tricky one for Roel to answer as it happened to strike at his blind spot. There was no way he could be familiar with the executives of the Saints Convocation, especially not in this current generation. He was unable to answer Bradley’s question.

He stood silently under the yellow incandescence of the torches, seemingly deep in thought.

The lack of response flared up the killing intent in Bradley’s eyes. With a cold smirk, Bradley raised his hand up, ready to issue the order to rip Roel to pieces, but the latter suddenly spoke up at this moment.

“Bradley, who in the world made a dimwit like you a bishop? Are you trying to infringe on the privacy of the executives, especially before such a crowd?”

Roel’s seething rebuke withered Bradley’s air of confidence. He had been far too anxious that he failed to consider the implications of his question. It was indeed highly inappropriate to probe into the personal information of the Convocation’s executives, especially in public, but despite knowing his mistake, he was still unwilling to back down on this matter.

The problem was that agreeing with Roel’s rebuke meant that he would have to hold a one-on-one meeting with the latter in order to ascertain his identity. This was definitely not something Bradley was comfortable with, for he was a puppetmaster.

Whenever puppetmasters project their consciousness into their puppets to control them, their main body would fall limp and become vulnerable to attacks, which was why they had to hide their main bodies in a secure location before heading into combat.

Of course, puppetmasters would have learned some defensive spells on the off chance they were in a position where they couldn’t resort to their puppets. Nevertheless, it went without saying that a puppetmaster without his puppets would be comparatively weaker than their counterparts in the other Scholar Guilds.

There was a high possibility that Roel was a spy out for his life, so there was no way Bradley could agree to a one-on-one meeting with him.

“… You need not be worried about the others. They are disciples with unwavering faith in the Mother Goddess,” replied Bradley calmly.

Little did he know that Roel had already anticipated that answer.

“Unwavering faith, you say?”

Roel’s golden eyes shone with a cold gleam as his face warped in seething fury.

“I might have believed those words before, but ever since I arrived here, I could only feel one emotion from you and your subordinates—fear!”

“What did you say?” roared Bradley.

Roel ignored his outburst. Instead, he swept a disapproving look at the crowd around him before questioning aloud.

“It took the Salvation Brotherhood less than a week to take over three-quarters of Leinster. Is that how you repay the trust of the executives? Thanks to your incompetence, the enemy caught wind of Pronte’s movements and assassinated him on the way here. While all of you were fleeing in the face of the enemies, has the glory of the Mother Goddess flashed across your mind even once?

“You, Bradley Danis, are no more than a cowardly scum! Don’t you even dare to speak of faith in my presence!

“What the young Executive Douglas did centuries ago was worthy of being called faith! He walked into the embrace of our God’s Envoy for the Mother Goddess, and his soul will remain with Her for all eternity. What about you, Bishop Bradley? What have you done to prove your faith in the Mother Goddess to dare speak of it to me?”

Roel’s searing glare and powerful words caused Bradley’s heart to lurch in horror.

The story of Executive Douglas had long stopped circulating within the Saints Convocation, but Bradley was more than familiar with it. After all, he was in the same Puppetmaster Guild as Douglas.

Douglas was one of the early leaders of the Saints Convocation in the Puppetmaster Guild, known for his exceptional talents that allowed him to reach Origin Level 2 at a very young age. It was only unfortunate he met with a premature death while trying to stall his enemies in the midst of his mission.

Douglas’ story did cause quite a commotion back in those days, but the passing of centuries were more than enough for most things to be forgotten. The only ones who still remembered Douglas were those in the Puppetmaster Guild.

It was likely that Roel learned of Douglas’ affairs through the records in the headquarters. The comparison he was making between Douglas and Bradley was a subtle but cutting jibe.

Douglas was able to reach Origin Level 2 and become an executive of the Convocation at a very young age. On the other hand, Bradley only barely managed to reach Origin Level 2 after so many years, and he still remained a bishop to this day.

For his faith, Douglas had fought valiantly and eventually walked into the embrace of one of God’s Envoys. On the other hand, Bradley only suffered pathetic defeats and was forced to hide in Worcester Castle.

There was simply no comparing the two of them.

Bradley found his face turning scarlet, but he dared not to run his mouth anymore. Roel had already subtly clued him in on his identity, and that was more than enough to invoke his fright.

Is he really a Holy Envoy?

Bradley’s eyes swam nervously around the place.

Fortunately, Roel had no intention of pursuing the matter. He took in a deep breath to calm his anger before asking calmly.

“You asked who dispatched me here; I’ll answer your question. It was a unanimous vote from the executives for me to head here from Twohorn Port. It looks like you haven’t received the letter from the executives yet, so I’ll overlook your disrespect this once in view of your ignorance. But never again, Bradley Danis.”

“Twohorn Port?”

The dropping of yet another subtle hint made Bradley widen his eyes.

That was the resting place of one of their God’s Envoys, making it a holy land for the believers of the Mother Goddess. It was also the place where Douglas lost his life.

This was confidential information known only by the top brass of the Convocation, and Bradley was one of the few bishops privy to that knowledge. In fact, he had visited that place in his younger years.

The fact that Roel had come from Twohorn Port was evidence of his association with the executives. Slowly, Bradley was starting to believe Roel’s claims.

On the other hand, Roel keenly noticed Bradley’s reaction when he mentioned Twohorn Port, so he decided to push a little further.

“Even if you aren’t able to recognize me, you should be able to recognize this aura, right? This is the grace bestowed upon me by our great God’s Envoy.”

Roel raised his hand gracefully, and a pristine white fog began converging on top of his palm. It was the terrifying frost aura from the monster who had destroyed numerous civilizations in the past through its sheer existence, Glacier Creator.

It sent a wave of unease through the hearts of the disciples, but what Bradley felt was a jolt of disbelief.

It was the aura of the God’s Envoy resting in the depths of the sea!

As someone who had been to the Twohorn Port, there was no way he would mistake the aura of the God’s Envoy for anything else. This was the last push that fully convinced him of Roel’s identity as a Holy Envoy, and his eyes began to heat up in agitation.

“Y-yes, I do! I recognize it! Revered Lord Holy Envoy, my deepest apologies for my earlier impertinence! What are the rest of you doing? Put away your weapons right now!” shouted Bradley.

The disciples quickly stowed away their weapons and dissipated their channeled mana as the doubt in their eyes was swiftly replaced with reverence. At the same time, the army of human-scorpion puppets hurriedly backed away too.

Bradley walked up to Roel with an amicable smile on his face.

“Lord Holy Envoy, it was all a misunderstanding. I received news earlier that the blasted Sartoni had intercepted and killed Lord Pronte, which led to me being oversensitive about your arrival. I apologize deeply for my mistake.”

Sartoni? Is that the leader of the Salvation Brotherhood?

Roel didn’t respond to Bradley’s apology. Instead, he took a brief glance at the dark city beyond the city gates and asked.

“What’s the current situation there?”

“Lord Holy Envoy, I’m afraid that it’s not too good…”

Bradley began recounting the events that had occurred over the past few days. He couldn’t help but notice that Roel’s face was slowly darkening, and it made his heart skip a beat.

He was already in a desperate situation right now. Once he failed the mission entrusted to him by the executives, the only one he could rely on to speak up on his behalf was the Holy Envoy standing before him. Due to that, he decided to tread carefully around Roel and try to earn the latter’s goodwill.

To his surprise, there was a peculiar look on Roel’s face when he started talking about the black-armored soldiers and black-robed figures loitering around the city at night.

“Bring me to the frontlines,” ordered Roel after a moment of contemplation.

Bradley quickly nodded his head and personally escorted Roel over.

It took them half an hour in order to arrive at the frontlines, where an intense fight was currently taking place.

The disciples of the Saints Convocation were shrieking in agony under the blasphemous whispers of those monsters, leaving them with no choice but to pull back their defense line again and again. The only reason why those monsters weren’t able to trample all over them was due to the arrows and long-range spells coming from the back, but that wouldn’t be enough to win them the battle.

There were simply far too many monsters emerging from the shadows.

The Salvation Brotherhood was fighting a war of attrition against the other powers in Leinster. They would personally lead the charge in the day and rest at night, passing the job of pressuring the enemies to these monsters. This tactic allowed them to preserve the strength of their core force while swiftly exhausting their enemies.

To make things worse, the fact that they weren’t able to engage these monsters in close-quarter battles meant that they wouldn’t be able to hold their defense line against them. Any ground they gained over the course of the day would be immediately lost at night.

With this strategy, the Salvation Brotherhood successfully knocked down all of the other powers. The only ones remaining were the Saints Convocation and the Saint Freya Academy.

It was clear that the Saints Convocation had suffered yet another thorough defeat tonight.

The situation at the frontlines had instilled despair in the hearts of all of the disciples, and the madness-inducing whispers only further worsened their mental state. Even the arrival of reinforcements did little to raise their morale.

Roel’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of the monsters. He turned to look at Bradley and asked.

“Is that the monster you spoke of?”

“That’s right, Lord Holy Envoy.”

The confirmation brought a contemptuous smile onto Roel’s lips, and he began walking straight toward the frontline. The appalled Bradley immediately rushed forward to stop him, but he suddenly noticed something that made him freeze on the spot.

Wait a moment, why isn’t my head hurting anymore?

Bradley’s astonishment didn’t slow Roel’s footsteps at all.

It created a peculiar sight. On the battlefield where everyone else was retreating, a black-haired man was advancing all alone. All eyes naturally fell upon him.

As he walked forward, a mysterious pulsation rippled from his body. It alleviated the suffering of the disciples and restored their rationality and composure.

By the time he finally reached the forefront of the defense line, his body was already shimmering with starlight. His small silhouette felt like a towering fortress sheltering everyone from those monsters.

Bradley was dumbfounded by this miraculous turn of events. The warriors found themselves staring at the unfamiliar figure standing before them with bated breaths, uncertain of what was happening.

The black-haired man raised his sword up high and turned to face the disciples with his dignified countenance. His golden eyes glowed brightly as if it was filled with the warmth of the sun.

“I, Holy Envoy Roel, have been tasked by the executives to reinforce Leinster and save my fellow brothers and sisters from their suffering.

“Devout worshipers of the Mother Goddess, the time has come for you to stand steadfast and guard our Mother Goddess’ honor. A miracle has descended for our cause. She has blessed us with Her protection from the blasphemous whispers of those monsters!

“The Mother Goddess is looking over us right now. This is your opportunity to prove your faith. Stand together with me, and we shall drive off these abominable beings with the blessings She has bestowed upon us!”

The black-haired man raised his arms wide, as if he was a god embracing the masses.

There was a brief moment of silence before deafening cheers and war cries broke out before him. The revelation brought to them by the Holy Envoy had evoked the faith of the disciples. They glared at the monsters standing before them with eyes reddened in delirium.

It was in such a heated atmosphere that the black-haired man finally issued his order.

“Charge!”