Villain Retirement

Chapter 1176: Chapter 1176: Finally Making a Move

"Hero! Your tyranny ends here!"

Four weeks. That was all it took for Riley to convert the non-believers of Camrose.

All 350 million of them.

Of course, some still hid from him and his inquisition—but Riley let them be. After all, things were only fun when someone dared to challenge him. Without opposition, life in Camrose had quickly become dull.

Louis had explained that people in this world typically received quests. But Riley was an anomaly—given the title of Hero without a villain or a so-called Demon King to oppose him. He had no purpose here at all.

The next Demon King had yet to be born—Riley had arrived too early. No, he wasn’t even supposed to be in Camrose in the first place.

And since he was trapped here, he intended to make the most of it.

A lot had happened over the past month. Louis’s father had started a rebellion, using every resource at the Zimmer family’s disposal. Riley could have crushed it easily, but instead, he let it bloom. They had already challenged him once. Their reward? A simple try again from him.

And now... another rebel had come to challenge him.

"Face me, you tyrant! Face me!"

The rebel’s roar echoed through the air. Riley turned to glance at him—still holding his spoon and fork.

"Can this wait until I’m finished eating, pagan?"

"Die!"

The rebel didn’t hear—or didn’t care. He lunged forward, a massive sword in hand. But before he could take more than three steps, he was tackled to the ground.

By the other patrons in the tavern.

Riley was casually dining in a privately owned tavern after killing 20% of Camrose’s population in a month.

And yet, no one in the tavern seemed to mind. No—more than that, they considered themselves blessed to be in his presence.

Despite being a Hero, he shared bread with them. Literally. As if he were just another commoner.

And so, when someone dared to attack him in public, it wasn’t just one but four people who tackled the rebel to the ground.

"W...what are you doing!?" the rebel gasped, struggling against their grip as they pressed him down. "Your minds have been tainted by this devil! He is no Hero!"

One of the diners slammed his head against the floor, then drove a knee into his neck to silence him.

"You dare call the Hero a devil!?" the man snarled in the rebel’s face. "After everything he’s done for us!? After he made our dry fields fertile!? After he carved a river to bring water to our city!?"

It was true—Riley’s inquisition hadn’t been only about destruction.

In most cities, instead of staking their citizens like he had in Zimmer City, he had improved

Dry land? Riley created rivers.

Extreme cold? He enclosed entire villages in protective domes.

Plague-ridden towns? He stopped to heal the afflicted.

Infested with bandits? Their heads decorated the roads within seconds.

There was no Demon King to defeat, but Riley still carried out his duty as a Hero, improving people’s lives in the most... efficient way possible. He had learned from the greatest hero there ever was—Megawoman.

Except, he did it far better, thanks to his ability to summon clones. He did it everywhere, at the same time.

"Please."

Riley let out a sigh and placed his knife and fork gently on the table. The room fell into complete silence. The rebel who had challenged him wanted to scream, but all he could do was choke on his own breath.

"This kind of violence... you should not be doing this to one another," Riley whispered, stepping toward the restrained man. "You are all children under Fate."

His voice was almost gentle.

"Please, remove your knee from his neck."

The diners immediately obeyed, their eyes filled with reverence. But then—

Riley’s next words caused the entire room to gasp.

Even the bartender, who had been watching from afar, dropped the glass he had been cleaning.

"Hurt me instead," Riley said. "That is why I am here—to bear your pain and suffering."

And of course, the rebel did not hesitate.

He lunged up from the floor and drove his sword straight through Riley’s chest.

"Hero!" The tavern-goers cried out, and the four men who had tackled the rebel moved to restrain him again.

But Riley simply raised a hand, stopping them.

"It is alright," he said, his voice as steady as ever. He stared into the rebel’s wide, trembling eyes. "I will not die until I have fulfilled Fate’s will."

Then, he took a slow step back—allowing the sword to slide out of his body, still clutched in the rebel’s hands.

The rebel gasped, his entire body shaking as he stared at the clean, bloodless blade. He turned back to Riley—who only smiled at him.

"It is alright," Riley said softly.

"I forgive you."

And then—they all looked at him as if there was light shining from behind him..

No, it wasn’t a figure of speech. There was literal light shining from behind him. Riley had summoned it, making himself appear almost divine.

And it worked.

One by one, the people in the tavern fell to their knees. Even the rebel, overcome with something he didn’t understand, followed suit.

Most of them no longer kneeled to Fate, however.

They kneeled to him.

Their homes no longer bore her cross, but his image.

"Please, everyone..." Riley sighed as he turned toward the door, "...It seems I’ve soured the mood. I shall take my leave."

"No! Please, Hero, stay!"

"It’s alright, Marvin," Riley said, turning to the bartender with a small nod. "I will return. I truly appreciate your smoked ham."

"You... You know me?" Marvin’s face went pale before he suddenly slammed his forehead against the floor. "Then I—I’ll prepare it for you every day, Hero!"

"Instead of preparing it for me..." Riley gestured toward the rebel, who was now sobbing on the floor. "Why not prepare it for our new friend?"

And with those words, he stepped out of the tavern.

Unbeknownst to Riley, as soon as he stepped out of the tavern, a group of people in the diner across the street had their eyes locked on him.

They looked like adventurers at first glance—but they weren’t. They were rebels from another city, and tonight, they planned to kill him.

"That’s him," one of them muttered.

"Shit... Look at him," another whispered, watching as Riley interacted with the townspeople. "Everyone here adores him. We won’t be leaving this city alive once we kill him."

"That doesn’t matter," their leader said. "What matters is that we do it. As long as we stop him."

From a distance, they watched Riley, observing how he greeted merchants, listened to the concerns of the elderly, and patted children on their heads. It was true—this entire city loved him.

"Alright," one of them said. "We do it tonight."

"He’s staying in a tent outside the city. We’ve been tracking him for days—this is our best chance."

"I’ll pretend to be a worshipper," another rebel suggested. "I’ll distract him while the two of you slip inside the tent and hide. We wait for him to sleep."

"Why not go in now, while he’s still exploring?" someone else offered. "He doesn’t even have guards."

"...That might be our best course of act—"

"Now that is a good idea."

The rebels froze.

The voice—the one that had just agreed with their plan—hadn’t come from any of them. Slowly, their eyes widened in horror as they turned toward the voice.

And there, Riley Ross was already sitting at their table.

They hadn’t seen him approach. They hadn’t felt his presence. But there he was, smiling as if he was part of their group.

They tried to move—tried to reach for their weapons—but their bodies refused to obey. Their limbs were locked in place, as if the air itself had turned against them.

"It would be wise to come up with a better plan," Riley suggested, resting his chin on his palm. His voice was calm, even helpful. "Or, might I suggest bringing in someone stronger? A grander entrance would make for a more dramatic confrontation, don’t you think?"

His smile widened.

"But whatever you decide... I look forward to it."

The rebels exchanged panicked glances, their minds racing for a way out. But before they could even think of an escape, Riley simply stood up—and walked away.

Just like that.

He returned to the streets, seamlessly blending into the crowd, laughing with the townspeople, helping an old man carry his cart, playing with the children.

"What... what the fuck was that?" one of the rebels finally managed to whisper.

And Riley was not doing this in just one city.

His clones were everywhere, spreading his influence, helping people, winning them over. Even the Riley they had just encountered—he was nothing more than a clone.

The real Riley was elsewhere.

At the grand Church of Fate. Sitting beneath her cross, his head rested against its smooth, surface.

"Are you truly not going to do anything, Fate?" A long, cold sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the towering cross.

"I have been here for a month. Killing your people. Turning them into my worshippers. And yet... you remain silent. Is this what gods do? Nothing?"

His eyes darkened.

"Death. Navi. Elementia. Machina. Celestial. Ruin. All of them stood idly by as I destroyed their creations."

Slowly, Riley pushed himself up from the cross.

"One more week, Fate." His whispered.

"One more week... and I will destroy your universe if you do—"

"Hero!"

A voice suddenly shattered the stillness of the church.

Riley turned, glancing toward the entrance. His bishop had barged in, his face pale, his breath ragged.

"The Pope...!" the bishop gasped. "The Pope wishes to wage war against us!"

Riley raised an eyebrow. Then, after a brief pause, a smile formed on his face.

"Aha..." he mused, tilting his head.

"Do we finally have our villain?"

Or—

His gaze flickered back to the cross.

"Are you finally making your move, Fate?"