The False-Emblem Knight’s blade, burning with life, tore through the air with a piercing screech, already inches from Allen’s eyes.
The scent of death was icy cold.
‘Can’t dodge! My body’s at its limit!’
Just at that critical moment, the world before Allen’s eyes suddenly slowed down!
The suspended trajectories of dust motes, the flickering afterimages of candle flames, the ripples of air torn by the enemy’s sword tip… even the subtle tremors of his opponent’s muscle contractions were as clear as slow motion.
Stranger still, countless blurry “lines” representing attack trajectories wove and flickered across his vision, finally converging into a single, certain future—that sword would graze past his neck, severing a few strands of hair, but the true lethal strike was the horizontal slash that followed, angled treacherously!
‘Future Vision!’
The thought flashed through Allen’s chaotic mind.
‘My prayer… was answered?’
“So you really were just watching me make a fool of myself all along! Damn gods!”
“Did you put me in this death cycle just to turn me, a steadfast materialist, into your believer?”
“You… must be pretty bored!”
Allen held no respect for the gods, and he had no time to ponder where this power came from.
The combat instincts honed by countless death cycles instantly overwhelmed everything else!
He chose to believe this absurd “prediction.”
Abandon blocking! Abandon dodging!
In that slow-motion world, he squeezed the last ounce of strength from his muscles, and his body lunged forward in a near-self-destructive posture that surpassed its limits.
His longsword was no longer a shield for defense, but turned into a resolute countercurrent, ignoring the incoming fatal slash, driving straight at the heart of the False-Emblem Knight’s chest, laid open by the force of his attack!
“Swoosh!”
“Gah—!”
Two dull thuds sounded almost simultaneously.
The False-Emblem Knight’s blade indeed grazed past Allen’s neck as “predicted,” leaving a burning sting and a few severed hairs.
However, the horizontal slash he had planned never came—
Allen’s sword pierced his heart with pinpoint accuracy!
The frenzied power brought by the secret pill dissipated like a punctured balloon in an instant.
The crimson pupils beneath the False-Emblem Knight’s mask contracted violently, filled with shock that defied belief and a rapidly dimming despair.
He staggered back a step, his longsword falling from his hand, hitting the ground with a harsh clang of metal.
“Lord… why… did you… abandon me…”
The False-Emblem Knight’s hoarse voice was thick with the taste of blood. He stared at Allen, then fell backward weakly, crashing to the floor, silent.
Allen was completely spent as well, collapsing limply like a puppet with its strings cut, gasping for breath, his lungs burning.
That blow, pushed beyond his limits, had nearly emptied his body.
The golden light in Allen’s eyes faded quietly, and the world returned to normal speed.
That “bullet time” just now was no adrenaline-fueled hallucination at the brink of death. Allen might truly have received some kind of blessing.
“Haha… how stupid of me. If I’d just caved earlier, I wouldn’t have died 999 times!”
“Whatever. Let’s leave it at that. I survived. Now I’m going to keep living! Merciful and cruel Lord, please grant me more favors from now on!”
Allen’s promise to the god was genuine.
Since gods really did exist, Allen ought to stick to the attitude of seeking truth from facts.
‘I can negotiate too. I can love God!’
‘As long as the cheat codes keep coming, anything’s negotiable!’
“BAM—!!!”
The door was kicked open with brute force!
“Son! Dad’s here to save you!!!”
Viscount Bernard, clad in an ill-fitting, crooked old suit of armor, waving a ceremonial longsword, charged in with a group of tense-looking hired swords brandishing sharp blades.
Then they saw the hellish scene: shattered furniture, bloodstains everywhere, two bodies, and Allen, drenched in blood, sprawled in a pool of gore, like something crawling out of the abyss.
“My boy—!!!!” Bernard’s wail pierced the sky instantly.
He scrambled over to Allen, grabbed his son, tears and snot streaming, “I knew I shouldn’t have believed your crazy talk! You said you could handle it alone… It’s all my fault! How could I have been so foolish as to let you face these murderous beasts alone! If you were gone, our family line would truly end!”
Allen could barely breathe from his father’s grip: “Cough… Dad… let go… your son’s not dead yet… he’s just about to be strangled by you… Also, get me out of here! This room is poisonous!”
“Huh? Oh oh oh oh! Right!” Bernard snapped out of it, frantically hoisting Allen up and dragging him out, shouting at the hired swords, “What are you standing around for! Cover! Cover my son’s retreat!”
After closing the blood- and poison-filled bedroom door, Allen tore off his beaked mask and only managed to stand steady by leaning against the cold wall.
Ignoring his physical exhaustion and injuries, he asked urgently, “What’s the situation? Is everyone at home okay?”
“No, no!” Bernard patted his chest, still shaken. “Everything went as you said. I had the servants hide in the cellar beforehand. Good heavens, it’s a good thing you told me about the cultists coming as soon as you woke up!”
“The brothers I secretly hired were real champs. We caught those lunatics off guard. They took heavy casualties, but every last one fought like they didn’t care about dying, refused to surrender… A bunch of madmen!” He wiped cold sweat from his brow.
“Son, be honest with your dad. How did you know those crazies were coming tonight? Was it really a divine revelation?”
Allen waved his hand wearily, his eyes sharp as knives: “I told you, it was divine revelation. Our god wouldn’t lie to his own people. He just saved my life, too!”
‘As for which god saved me, I’ll worry about that later!’
‘Whether it’s a righteous god or an evil god, if it gives me cheat codes, it’s a good god!’
“Father, what did the Inquisition Tribunal say?”
“The old butler went to report. At first, they didn’t believe it. Thought it was some drunk noble spouting nonsense. But then, guess what?”
“Not long after, all hell broke loose at the slaughterhouse in the Lower District! The inquisitors really did clash with the cultists!”
Bernard lowered his voice: “I heard the Tribunal caught a ‘big fish,’ but they accidentally let him slip away! Now the entire Royal Capital is under martial law. The butler just came back and said a fully armed, murderous squad of inquisitors is heading our way!”
Allen wasn’t surprised by this outcome.
The Flesh Priest in the Royal Capital was a tenacious foe. Even Livia had suffered considerable setbacks against him in the early stages.
The unprepared Inquisition Tribunal naturally couldn’t take him down easily.
However, having lost his main base, he would probably lie low for a while. He wouldn’t trouble Allen anytime soon.
A cold-blooded smirk crept onto Allen’s lips without his noticing.
‘I know where he might be hiding. Once my combat power is high enough, I’ll kill him.’
‘Speaking of which… there’s one more loose end I need to deal with…’
“Where’s Marian?” Allen suddenly asked, his tone carrying a barely perceptible tension. “Is she all right?”
Bernard blinked, then his face broke into a lecherous grin that said “I know, I know.”
“Oh? Marian? She’s fine, fine! Doing great! When I was coming to find you a little while ago, I saw her heading toward the courtyard. Said she was worried an enemy might try to escape by jumping out your window and wanted to keep an eye on things.”
Bernard winked. “Heh heh, son, you finally came to your senses and started caring about the Head Maid? Good eye! That girl’s a bit cold, but I could tell she had potential the moment I hired her…”
Allen ignored his father’s gossip, a cold glint of murder flashing deep in his eyes.
‘I don’t know what role Marian played in tonight’s attack, but her withholding information was as good as helping them.’
‘If it weren’t for the god’s blessing, I’d be a corpse right now.’
“Still, this Future Vision… how the hell do I use it?”
Allen couldn’t replicate the maneuver from before. It seemed his cheat code was just a trial card that had been revoked upon expiry.
He wasn’t disappointed.
‘To survive, I ultimately have to rely on myself. I can’t keep putting myself in danger.’
‘If I don’t learn to avoid risks, even if the god gave me a permanent cheat, I’d still end up capsizing in a ditch one day.’
‘Of course, if the cheat were on Livia’s level, that’d be a different story.’
‘A thousand skills, but this is just raw stats.’
‘When your stats are so high no one can break your defense, you naturally don’t have to worry about capsizing.’
“Damn you, Livia! I almost ended up in a death ending tonight. I’m putting this on your tab too!”
“We’re all playing the same game. Why are your cheats a hundred times nobler than mine?!”
“I got a trial card handed out randomly. If anyone notices something off, my account gets banned immediately.”
“You get a custom DMA. Not only can you cheat openly, but if someone reports you, your backstage buddies shield you.”
“Why? Just because you’re the production team’s darling?”
“Hmph. I can’t touch you for now, but your childhood friend… is in my hands.”
Allen suppressed his villainous sneer and spoke to Bernard with a firm tone: “I have something to discuss with her. Father, please stay with the hired swords. There might still be stragglers in the house. Be careful.”
“No way! It’s too dangerous! Son, you’re wounded like this. Let me come with you!”
Bernard’s heart ached at the sight of his son covered in blood.
“Father.”
Allen’s voice was eerily calm, but the aura that instantly emanated from him made the surrounding air feel stagnant.
His blood-smeared face was expressionless. His pitch-black eyes were bottomless, like an Asura crawling out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
That icy pressure, carrying a tangible sense of oppression, made even the battle-hardened hired swords instinctively grip their weapons.
Bernard was especially shaken by this aura he had never seen in his son before, rendered speechless.
“I said I’ll go alone.” Allen spoke each word with deliberation, almost in a commanding tone. “Please listen to me.”
“…Alright… whatever you say, whatever you say.” Bernard swallowed hard and nodded sheepishly.
He watched as his son, still carrying the dripping noble longsword, walked toward the depths of the courtyard with a slightly staggering but exceptionally resolute stride, disappearing into the shadows.
Moonlight pooled on the ground like liquid silver, coating the Laval family’s moderately spacious courtyard in a layer of cold, pale brilliance.
Allen soon spotted the figure.
Marian stood silently beneath the moonlight at the center of the courtyard, her back to him.
The night breeze stirred her soft black hair. Under the cold moonlight, her slim, straight back was outlined by her simple maid uniform, like a fragile porcelain doll.
She had been waiting here for some time.
“Hey, Marian. Long time no see.”
Allen’s slightly trembling voice broke the silence.
He tried to control his facial muscles, attempting a harmless smile.
But the heart dictated the face. What ultimately appeared on Allen’s face was only a bloodthirsty coldness.
Marian slowly turned around.
The moonlight clearly illuminated her face—exquisitely beautiful yet utterly bloodless.
Her eyes were like deep pools, calm without a single ripple. She simply looked at the blood-soaked, murderous Allen.
“Young Master Allen.” Her voice was cool, unreadable. “Seeing you so lively and kicking—that’s truly wonderful.”
The greeting sounded sincere, yet carried a hint of icy sarcasm.
Allen caught the dark humor in Marian’s calm demeanor. He curled his lips into a cruel, frigid smile: “Oh? I thought you’d be disappointed. Surprised? Not only did I not die, I slaughtered all your accomplices.”
He deliberately emphasized the word “accomplices.”
Marian’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
She was silent for a few seconds, her long lashes trembling slightly. Finally, a flicker of resigned fatigue passed through those deep-pooled eyes.
“When did you find out?” she finally spoke, her voice as faint as a breeze.
“I found out in my dreams.” Allen couldn’t be bothered with nonsense and played his trump card directly. “I told the ‘Flesh Priest’ lurking in the Royal Capital that you had betrayed the cult.”
With that, Allen suddenly stepped toward Marian, his killing intent barely concealed.
Panic flickered in Marian’s eyes. She instinctively stepped back a few paces.
“If I’m not mistaken, your false emblem has already lost its effect, hasn’t it? He took back your power, right?”
Marian’s pupils contracted sharply. Her lips were pressed so tight they turned white, but she stubbornly refused to answer, just staring at Allen with those impossibly complicated eyes.
“Not talking? Then I’ll have to confirm it myself.”
Allen laughed coldly. He suddenly reached out and roughly grabbed the collar of Marian’s maid uniform!
Marian’s whole body trembled, but she didn’t resist.
She closed her eyes in despair, her long lashes trembling violently like dying butterfly wings, her teeth biting hard into her lower lip.
‘Marian didn’t participate in the attack on the Laval family.’
‘But allowing the Laval family to fall into danger—isn’t that the same as slaughtering them with her own hands?’
‘The Demon Young Master’s violence is only physical pain. Her inaction, however, was an attempt to annihilate an entire family.’
‘She awaited judgment, awaited death, as atonement.’
But the anticipated violence did not come.
Allen only roughly pulled open the front of her dress, revealing a small patch of skin below her collarbone. His sharp eyes scanned it.
It was fair and delicate there, with no trace of emblem transplantation or aberrant flesh. He quickly checked other parts of her body as well. Aside from some bruising, he found nothing.
Then, Allen crouched down. One hand steadily held her calf, while the other decisively pulled her right thigh-high white sock all the way down!
The removed stocking was like pulling back a cruel curtain.
The girl’s slender ankle and the underside of her thigh were exposed to the cool air, and to Allen’s suddenly constricted pupils.
Where there should have been fair, delicate skin, large, shocking patches of bruising covered the area! Dark purple, deep red, green-yellow… layers of old and new injuries stacked on top of each other, like ugly moss, viciously entrenched there.
These silent imprints spoke of the violence she had once endured.
Allen’s heart sank heavily. Guilt, like a cold tide, instantly diluted his previous murderous intent.
‘How many of these wounds were left by the “past” Allen de Laval?’
‘It was these very wounds that pushed Marian into the abyss of the Crimson Spiral Order.’
He quickly checked Marian’s left leg. It was also covered with overlapping bruises, old and new. There was also no trace of a false emblem.
Allen let out a long, silent sigh.
He stood up. His movements became unexpectedly clumsy and gentle.
He straightened Marian’s pulled-apart clothes, and even tried to help her put the removed stocking back on, but seemed to think it inappropriate, so he stopped.
“It seems your false emblem has indeed lost its effect.” Allen’s voice was much lower, no longer carrying the previous aggressiveness.
“He took back your power and severed his connection to you. As long as you don’t do anything stupid and voluntarily confess your identity, the inquisitors won’t discover your ties to the cult.”
He looked at Marian’s stunned expression and said without any emotion: “Marian, congratulations. You get to live.”
Marian was completely dumbfounded.
She stared at the Young Master before her, covered in blood and gore, who had just descended like a god of slaughter. Her mind went blank.
‘He won’t kill me? Why?’
‘She had imagined countless endings: being tortured to death by the furious Young Master, burned at the stake by the Inquisition Tribunal, or silenced by the cult… “Living” was never on the list.’
“Wh… why…?” Her voice was hoarse and trembling, filled with disbelief and bewilderment. “Why won’t you kill me?! I… I almost caused all of you to die!”
‘Kill you?’
‘How could I dare?!’
A myriad of thoughts stampeded through Allen’s mind.
He hadn’t tried killing major characters in other cycles. But every time he succeeded, the world’s deepest malice immediately taught him a lesson!
‘A fodder-villain side character killing a major character? That’s a super poison trope in any story!’
‘Marian’s identity was especially special. She was Livia von Stern’s—that Phoenix Overlord’s—most important childhood friend!’
‘Kill Marian? That would practically be carving “Solicit Death” onto my forehead!’
‘The moment Livia arrives tomorrow, Allen de Laval can go ahead and book the VIP tour package to Hell!’
‘Under the rule that Livia is the “center of the world,” offending her is equivalent to making an enemy of everyone.’
‘Keeping Marian alive, keeping her as his maid, was far more valuable than a cold corpse!’
‘She was the most important hostage in Allen’s hand. Even if Livia still wanted to kill him, she’d have to think twice for Marian’s sake.’
‘As a villain, you must set aside personal likes and dislikes and ruthlessly use everyone. Even if the other person was once an enemy who killed you!’
That was Allen’s way of survival as an evildoer.