Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

It was definitely that bastard named Roya who left a backup plan for his reincarnation!

After all, he had a precedent for doing such inhumane things.

From the moment this guy dared to expose himself to the world, the island's inhabitants had already become his marked prey and food.

Therefore, regardless of whether Xia Lei, as "Patient Zero," was under control, the tragedy on Aimingmego Island was inevitable.

Moreover, if there were no behind-the-scenes manipulators, wouldn't it be overestimating the child to think that a newly converted girl could infect the entire village in just a few hours from dusk to night?

Don't forget, among the first to fall were Father Simon, a staff member of the Holy Church. Even if he was usually not very good, he shouldn't have been so easily killed on the spot when dealing with a child apostle.

It seems it's time to get those slacking off at the Dark Round Table out and stretch their muscles.

A sharp glint flashed in the ancient snake's eyes as it secretly began to plot against a certain troublemaker who had been prematurely induced.

"I wasn't bitten, help! Don't kill me, help..."

Just as Samael was deep in thought, a terrified scream came from the blazing firelight not far away.

At the same time, a figure dressed in black robes raised his right hand with a sneer, and a fully formed cursed bullet whistled as it smashed into the villager's chest.

Is Chapter 43 finished? You can get out of here now! (2/3)

"puff!"

At the critical moment, a dagger whistled through the air, piercing the man's wrist. Its domineering force instantly pulled the unsuspecting figure and pinned him to the tree trunk.

"Ah, my hand! My hand!"

As the temporary pain-blocking effect on the central nervous system wore off, the man, who had just been aloof and elegant, stared at his twisted arm and pierced hand, letting out a pig-like scream, snot and tears streaming down his face.

"Buzz buzz!"

In an instant, several figures dressed in black robes emerged from the night, raising their hands to throw instant-cast spell bullets at the attacker.

Puff puff puff!

However, the dozens of cursed bullets were instantly extinguished and decomposed back into basic particles the moment they touched within ten steps of the man.

"Don't come any closer! You inferior beings, I command you, don't come any closer!"

At the same time, facing a barrage of cursed projectiles, the figure, whose pace didn't slow down even an inch, dodged a missing projectile and arrived in front of the man, despite the terrified cries of the wounded.

"I am noble..."

"Crack!"

In an instant, accompanied by the crisp sound of bones cracking, the wounded man of noble blood, scratching his broken neck with one hand, gasped for breath in his dying breath, his eyes filled with despair.

Why, why did he die at the hands of a lowly commoner?

Filled with endless terror and resentment, the man's consciousness faded into darkness.

Master!

The blond-haired young man with a long, thin face, who was in charge of leading the group, watched as the figure moved through the spell bullets as if they were nothing, killing a companion with his bare hands. His pupils contracted slightly, and he immediately raised his hand, raising the magic wand inlaid with a large ruby ​​in his palm. He hurriedly chanted the incantation and activated his proud magic, "Sea of ​​Flames".

"Fire is the point, flame is the line, the flames of the three realms form endless planes, the flames of fear traverse eternal space, the undying red lotus crosses the boundaries of time, existing in the grandeur of the void, creating the shattered beginning, returning to the end of chaos!"

In an instant, streaks of fire woven from elemental power surged forth from the rapidly forming magic array in front of him. Following the unpredictable trajectory of the flames, they coiled and bit at the approaching figure from all directions. The flames, exceeding a thousand degrees, turned everything in their path into scorched earth.

"call……"

But faced with the blazing wind that swept in, the newcomer didn't even blink. He simply blew a breath, and the surging sea of ​​fire instantly dissipated, leaving only charred remains on the ground.

"puff!"

The magic trick was abruptly interrupted, and the black-robed youth turned pale, spitting out a mouthful of blood. His eyes were filled with terror as he looked at the newcomer.

How can it be!

"I thought it was those charlatans from the Holy Church, but upon closer inspection, it turns out to be your group of arrogant sorcerers from the Magic Association. What's wrong? Instead of studying at the Clock Tower, you insist on coming to this godforsaken place like Aiminme Island to join in the fun?"

Samael dusted off the almost non-existent dust from his clothes, his pair of serpentine vertical pupils glancing eerily at the group of black-robed men before him.

"May I ask who you are...?"

The invisible pressure and terrifying power caused the once arrogant and haughty blond magician to stiffly lower his head and ask in a hoarse, surprised voice.

"You don't need to know who I am, but I do remember your name."

Samael looked up at the blond youth in front of him, whose face was thin and who looked to be no more than twenty or thirty years old, but whose eyes had a sense of vicissitude, and asked with a playful tone.

"Cornelius Aruba, the next abbot of the Central Organization of the Clock Tower—Sponheim Monastery?"

"..."

The blond youth, whose true identity had been casually revealed, narrowed his eyes, his apprehension towards the person before him deepening. After a moment's hesitation, he cautiously inquired.

"Since you know our identities and origins, may I ask what offense we have committed, and why you have treated my companion so cruelly?"

"You haven't offended me..."

Samael waved his hand casually, then glanced at the corpse behind him with a broken tibia, dilated pupils, and skin that was gradually losing its temperature, as well as the chestnut-haired girl who had survived the ordeal in the firelight. He then turned to look at the group of magicians, his eyes filled with a chilling light, and spoke again in a cold voice.

"However, I remember that Zelrich gave you instructions that magicians are not allowed to kill ordinary people at will."

Aruba's heart pounded upon hearing this.

The Zellrich mentioned by this person is Kishua Zellrich Schbein Aug, the previous Marshal of the Magic Path!

Moreover, as he said, more than 600 years ago, this Grand Marshal of the Demonic Path issued an order to magicians, strictly forbidding them from using force to arbitrarily slaughter ordinary people.

The person in front of me not only dared to call that Demonic Marshal by name, but also had such a clear understanding of the inside story, so his identity and background were obviously not simple.

Who is he?

While Aruba was in the mortal world, a traditional magician behind him disagreed and couldn't help but refute him.

"Concealing the mystery is of paramount importance. These people witnessed tonight's catastrophe, so..."

"So much nonsense!"

However, as soon as the magician opened his mouth, accompanied by an impatient snort, his confident throat suddenly tightened, and his entire body was lifted inch by inch from the ground by a pair of invisible hands gripping his neck.

"Crack!"

The next moment, the noble magician's throat was roughly crushed and he was thrown aside like a dead pig.

The magicians stared in shock and rage at their companion's gradually cooling corpse, brandishing their wands and warily eyeing the terrifying figure in the darkness.

"Hidden secrets? Don't tell me you people don't even know the simplest forgetting spells and mental interference!"

Samael glanced at the corpse on the ground, now still from convulsing, a cold smile playing on his lips, mercilessly tearing away the fig leaf the magicians had laid for themselves.

"If you're looking to save trouble and are just bloodthirsty, relying on your own strength and indulging in the pleasure of trampling on ordinary human lives, then don't try to justify it with such high-sounding reasons. You dare to do it but don't dare to admit it. How disgusting is that?"

The magicians gasped, their eyes darting away.

"He only misspoke and did not break the agreement. Surely you don't intend to do such a terrible thing?"

As the leader of this operation, Aruba, under the watchful eyes of his comrades, had no choice but to steel himself and adopt a slightly tough stance to denounce the executioner's lack of martial ethics.

"Since he thinks he's superior and can easily decide the lives of ordinary people, then sorry, I'm stronger than him. Whoever I don't like will die. That's fair, isn't it?"

Samael chuckled dismissively, glancing at the group of hypocrites who had just been setting fire to the village but were now demanding human rights and justice.

"What, you can't stand the same rules applied to yourselves? If it weren't for the fact that you don't smell of blood yet, I would have killed you all, you believe me?"

"..."

The magicians opened their mouths, speechless. Faced with absolute violence, they could only obediently lower their heads, each one trembling with fear.

"Understood. I will report their dereliction of duty and Your Excellency's handling of the matter to the Clock Tower in full."

Aruba swallowed hard, mustered a rare courage in his life, and delivered a sarcastic remark that was neither too harsh nor too mild.

"Finished?"

"what?"

"Then you can get lost! If you keep nagging, and you're going to report me to Zelrich, you'll probably have to come to me in a dream!"

As the ancient serpent faced the magician who was still trying to make a few polite remarks and regain his composure, a cold killing intent gradually gathered in his eyes.

Using that demonic marshal to suppress him? These few shrimp soldiers and crab generals are not worthy of it.

This kind of thing, let alone reporting it to that old bastard Zelrich, even the head of the Clock Tower would have to be careful if they dared to show their teeth. Samael wouldn't mind taking a trip to Britain afterwards and demolishing some London landmarks to teach them a lesson.

Of course, the more likely outcome is that all these offending magicians will be immediately thrown into the black jail of the Department of Law and Politics by Zelrich, so that these bastards who take his words as farts can experience the perverted "warm hospitality" of the Department of Law and Politics.

Because this rule, which forbids magicians from arbitrarily using force to slaughter ordinary people, was an agreement he made with Zelrich after that match.

Chapter 44 You're still too green to play with me (3/3)

In fact, the Dark Council, led by Samael, won a resounding victory in the siege launched by the Magic Association and the Holy Church back then, without any doubt.

He was, after all, the "First Cause" who almost ascended to godhood, the guardian of the gods' graves, the mentor of heroes, and the enlightener of mankind. If he can't even handle these younger generations, he might as well give up and go to sleep.

Afterwards, the two factions that started the war were inevitably subject to the wrath of a petty deity.

Pope Innocent VIII, the leader of the Church of Christ, was secretly killed long ago, and his decaying soul is still being roasted by the fires of hell.

Marshal Zelrich was severely injured on the spot. Not long after returning to the Clock Tower, he passed the position of Marshal to the current second-generation Barthellow Loreleia and went into seclusion to recuperate.

If it weren't for the fact that Zelrich had fought Zhu Yue to the death to ensure the continuation of the human race, this Demon Marshal might have been killed on the spot.

However, even after escaping this calamity, in order to protect the Magic Association, Zelrich had no choice but to accept the "friendly advice" of that deity, strictly prohibiting magicians from easily interfering with the operation of human society, or from using force to break the rules and kill humans.

To be honest, although they were attacked, they had already taken their revenge almost overnight. Samael really didn't intend to slaughter the entire Magic Association and the Holy Church.

After all, in his view, religion occupies the high ground of faith among human groups and is the banner of the spirit; magic promotes the innovation of civilization and is the driving force of technological progress.

Even if the Vatican is turned upside down and the Roman Catholic Church is destroyed, a whole host of other religions, such as the Orthodox Church, Protestantism, Puritanism, and the Church of England, will rise to power; even without the Clock Tower, there will still be the Atlas and the Sea of ​​Wanderers.

Therefore, a minor punishment as a deterrent is Samael's strategy.

Therefore, after the two witch hunts by the Roman Catholic Church, the Reformation movement intensified under the instigation of a certain individual.

Thus, in 1520, more than twenty years after the mysterious death of Pope Innocent VIII, Protestantism, which held the scriptures, believed in justification by faith, that everyone was a shepherd, and that everyone could communicate with the God they believed in, also stepped onto the stage of history, competing with the Roman Catholic Church and taking a considerable share of the Vatican's resources.

Incidentally, it seems that the first person to put forward this viewpoint was the Iron Fist Saintess at Thermopylae, who abandoned darkness for light and dared to punch Old Ma and those deformed angels. Samael was just using it as a reference.

Soon after, the products of religious reformation, such as the Church of England and Puritanism, sprang up like mushrooms after rain, each taking a slice of the soup from the pot of faith. This caused the Roman Catholic Church, beset by enemies on all sides, to gradually lose control of the European countries, fall into internal strife, and become preoccupied with its own problems.

Similarly, the Magic Association, which considers itself superior and views the human world as a pasture, taking whatever it wants, will also suffer a bad end.

From the 14th to the 16th centuries, the Renaissance movement saw a surge in the emergence of many commoner magicians who focused on scholarship and research rather than lineage, leading to frequent enlightenments. This also caused a strong impact on traditional magicians who clung to outdated practices in various fields such as culture and technology.

The commoners who moved into the clock tower and the original nobles also began a protracted factional war, clashing and fighting each other.

Behind all of this, of course, lies the Dark Council and the shadow of a certain First Cause.

It can be said that Europe emerged from the Age of Ignorance, and the church and associations remained quiet for centuries, largely thanks to a certain enlightener of humanity.

Afterwards, the Holy Church and the Magic Association, who had been manipulated to the point of ecstasy by a certain cunning old man with just a flick of his finger, had no choice but to shrink their strength and become much more obedient. Consequently, a series of their actions and policies became less aggressive.

Those slogans that called for the killing of heretics and other special species at the slightest disagreement; those unspoken rules that treated human life as worthless and used killing to eliminate bystanders in order to preserve mystery—all gradually disappeared into the long river of history under the respective constraints of the church and associations.

The idea that snakes lurk in the darkness and roam the world is not just an empty phrase.

Even powerful organizations like churches and associations have to follow the new rules of the game and play properly on this chessboard drawn by the gods.

Otherwise, Samael wouldn't mind leveling the Vatican or changing the headquarters of the Magic Association.

Therefore, if these incorrigible magicians try to use this opportunity to report to Zelrich, hoping that the Grand Marshal of Magic will get revenge for them, they will definitely be scolded mercilessly.

After all, these few idiots with their noses in their eyes are not qualified to shake the rules of the game set by him, Zelrich, and the Vatican.

Under the flickering firelight, the ancient snake, having finished watching the monkey show, watched the group of magicians who had uttered harsh words flee in disarray, and coldly sneered.

After spending some time cleaning up the mess, Samael looked at the emptied village, the survivors supporting each other as they poured into the church hall, and the infected people led by Black Princess Altruki to gather near the cliff. He nodded in satisfaction.

It was alright. Only a few dozen people died beyond saving. Most of the villagers escaped by sheer luck. Although the operation was not entirely satisfactory, overall it was much better than the scene in my memory where the entire island was slaughtered.

Samael entered the church, approached the window, and with a gentle whisper, delivered a comforting suggestion to the anxious people in the hall, gradually lulling them into a deep sleep so they could forget the terrible memory.

However, after dealing with the immediate trouble, Samael looked around but still couldn't find his teammate Natalia.

With a question lingering in his mind, the ancient serpent found Arcueid in the valley, who was also sheltering a group of people and diligently maintaining the barrier, and asked her for her opinion.

"Your Highness, have you seen the woman who was with me?"

"Natalia? She seems to have chased a group of spreading undead to the southern coast."