Villain Retirement

Chapter 1171: Chapter 1171: Judgment Day

"What’s... going on, Nicolas?!"

The dining hall was filled with confusion, but no one dared to direct their questions to Riley.

How could they, when he was in the midst of a hushed conversation with the bishop? And from the way the bishop kept his head bowed, it was becoming increasingly clear that the Hero held far more authority than they had assumed.

So instead, they turned to Louis.

"What is going on, son?"

Son.

How long had it been since Louis was called that by his father?

From his earliest memories, Nicolas had only ever addressed him by name.

In his past life, at least his mother had shown him some affection before duty ultimately overshadowed her motherhood. But here, in Camrose, his father had not even made the slightest attempt to acknowledge him.

Not when his mother died. Not even with a word or gesture of comfort.

And yet now, the very same man—one of the strongest swordmasters in the entire country—was rubbing his hands together as he hesitantly approached him.

Louis could have gone on a long explanation about the levels, ranks, and attributes that defined the warriors of Camrose. But what was the point?

Rankings, levels, and titles were meaningless in the presence of Riley Ross.

That was simply the way things were.

That was how they would always be.

"I know as much as you all do," Louis finally sighed, shaking his head before turning to leave.

But before he could take a step, a firm grip landed on his shoulder, yanking him back.

"You think you can turn your back on Father just because you’re friends with the Hero!?" his second brother hollered, his voice filled with indignation. "You’re still the same weak Louis that we—Grah!?"

His words were cut short as Louis twisted his arm with little effort, causing him to squirm in pain. And before anyone could react, Louis lifted his brother effortlessly over his shoulder—then slammed him onto the floor.

"Karl!" their stepmother shrieked, rushing forward to aid her son.

But before she or any of the others could even voice a complaint, Riley re-entered the room.

"Oh?"

He tilted his head slightly as his gaze fell upon Karl writhing on the floor, his mother hovering protectively over him. Riley’s blank expression remained unchanged, but there was an unmistakable hint of amusement in his voice.

"This is good," Riley said simply. "You should spend as much time together as you can... for what is about to happen next may separate you."

The room fell into a tense silence.

And then, Nicolas finally gathered the courage to step forward.

"Forgive me, Hero," he said, lowering his head in a bow. "But may Clarissa and I now ask what this is truly about?"

He hesitated before continuing, carefully choosing his words.

"I overheard the bishop speaking of half the city losing faith. Is this in regard to the Church of Fate?"

"Indeed," Riley nodded, gesturing for Nicolas and the others to return to their seats.

Though hesitant, everyone obeyed, lowering themselves back into their chairs around the grand dining table. Their uncertainty hung thick in the air, but they dared not disobey the Hero.

Once they were all seated, Riley began to walk behind them, circling the table at a slow, almost nerve-racking pace.

His presence alone was enough to make the room feel smaller, suffocating.

And then, just as he strode behind Clarissa, she suddenly gasped and spoke up.

"I... I confess, Hero," she stammered. "We have not practiced our faith as much as we should have. But I swear—all of us, my sons and daughters, are fully devoted to the Church."

Riley did not respond right away.

He merely let out a quiet hum, his footsteps never faltering as he completed his slow circuit around the table.

Then, at last, he stopped—standing directly behind Nicolas.

His hands rested lightly on the back of Nicolas’s chair, causing the master of the manor to flinch.

And then, in a calm, measured tone, Riley spoke.

"I am afraid that none of us here get to decide whether we are faithful or not."

Riley’s fingers lightly drummed against the wood of the chair.

"Only Fate can decide that."

A heavy silence followed his words.

Nicolas narrowed his eyes, searching Riley’s face for meaning.

"And... what if we are found lacking?"

He had been nervous from the moment Riley set foot in his home. Anyone with the power to sway the Church of Fate was not someone to take lightly.

And yet, that nervousness had never fully evolved into fear.

After all, from the stories he had been told as a child, Heroes were always noble. Majestic. Selfless.

Always.

That was why he had remained wary, but not truly afraid.

But now, with Riley standing behind him, gripping his chair so casually...

Now, for the first time, he was afraid.

"You do not need to worry, Nicolas," Riley finally said, shaking his head.

"You have been found faithful."

Nicolas let out a sharp breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief washed over him in an instant. He had to swallow his relief, however, as Riley was not done talking.

"Bishop," Riley called, his voice still as calm as before, yet now slightly commanding.

The bishop stepped forward, clasping his hands in prayer before softly uttering a single word.

"Judgment."

As soon as the word left his lips, spheres of white light emerged from the heads of everyone seated at the table.

Nicolas watched as his own light remained a perfect sphere, hovering above him. But when he turned to his wife, his breath caught in his throat.

Her sphere flickered, twisted... and then sharpened into the unmistakable shape of a sword.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Except for Louis and one other, the rest of his sons had swords floating above their heads. Two of his daughters bore the same mark.

Confusion and unease settled over him, but before he could voice his questions, the room was suddenly bathed in an almost blinding radiance.

"Huh?"

Everything fell silent for him, and everything also slowed down.

And then, the sound of something dripping whispered in his ears. It was coming from above.

Nicolas’s stomach twisted. Slowly, hesitantly, he tilted his head back—only to see fresh holes dotting the ceiling and letting the harsh light of the sun in. Eight of them.

And from each, thick crimson droplets fell onto the dining table.

But it wasn’t the blood that sent ice through his veins.

It was the silhouettes, barely visible beyond the holes.

His family’s faces.

Their eyes were open, their mouths twisted in expressions of shock and horror. Their bodies were bent and broken, mangled by the sheer force that had slammed them through the ceiling.

Still alive. But barely.

Nicolas staggered to his feet, his breath heavy and uneven. His mind reeled, his vision narrowed in disbelief as he turned his gaze toward Riley—

Only to find the young Hero standing calmly, one finger still pointed skyward. Blood dripped from his nose and traced crimson lines beneath his vacant eyes.

"Did... you do this?" Nicolas’s voice was hoarse, barely anything really.

"Yes."

A small, eerily serene smile crawled onto Riley’s face.

Nicolas didn’t let him say anything else. With a roar, he summoned a sword into his hands and lunged at Riley.

"What have you done!?"

But before his blade could reach its mark, Riley merely lowered his finger.

And Nicolas collapsed.

It wasn’t just his sword that fell from his grasp—his entire body crumpled to the ground, unable to move. His limbs felt like iron, his breath came in ragged gasps, and the only thing he could do was glare at Riley with seething fury.

Yet Riley’s expression remained unchanged, his gaze now shifting toward the bishop.

"You are bleeding, Hero." The bishop’s voice was laced with hesitation. "Should we truly continue? You are being punished. Why? Is this... truly Her will?"

"It is," Riley replied without hesitation.

And then, he spread his arms wide.

His feet left the ground.

And with him, so did Nicolas and everyone else in the dining hall.

They ascended through the holes Riley had carved, floating upward into the night air—where they were met with a sight more harrowing than anything Nicolas could have imagined.

Thousands.

There were thousands of silhouettes floating in the sky above the city, all suspended just like his family.

Nicolas’s blood ran cold.

His people. His city.

His family was not the only ones chosen for judgment.

Riley exhaled, his voice carried across the heavens like an undeniable decree.

"We must reform all of these people. But to do that, I must break the law of Fate."

Riley turned his gaze to the bishop.

"And for that, I must be punished."

The bishop’s lips parted in quiet horror as he understood what he meant.

"You will die, Hero."

"No." Riley shook his head.

"I will be punished. But I will not die. For that is the will of Fate. Now...put them all on stakes until they learn the word of Fate once more."