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

Chapter 597.1: The Witch’s Secret (1)

The least a soldier could do prior to confronting an enemy was to investigate the latter’s background. This was the minimum respect one could show to oneself and one’s enemy.

Intelligence was of utmost importance in the Sia Continent, particularly since there was no lack of powerful transcendents who had died to all sorts of ridiculous abilities. The grass growing on their graves could easily make up a vast grassland.

Roel, who prided himself on his caution, wouldn’t make such a low-level mistake.

His opponent, the Deviant Sovereign, was also quite an enigmatic figure. Even now, he still hadn’t figured out the other party’s fighting style. It was due to lack of other options that he tried his luck by asking Grandar, who should have lived in the same era as Banjol.

It was just that he hadn’t expected to hear such an answer from Grandar, which brought a frown to his face.

On the sunset plain, the atmosphere around Grandar slowly grew solemn. He pondered for a moment before replying, “Beastman Sovereign Banjol was a well-known name in our era. I am familiar with it. The Beastmen were one of the races in the Savior’s faction, after all, boasting the largest armies.”

“I see. So, the Beastmen are one of the Savior’s core forces?”

“They are one of the few races beneath the Dragons and the Angels that holds a significant say in the Savior’s faction,” Grandar said as he gazed into the distance as if recalling the past.

Roel nodded. This knowledge provided him with a deeper understanding of the ties between the Savior and the deviants.

The Beastmen, as one of the Savior’s core forces, were bound to be on closer terms with the Savior than the other races. Unfortunately, this also meant that they were more affected when the Savior fell into depravity, which was likely how the deviants came about.

“I’m guessing that you don’t know what happened to the Beastmen afterward,” Roel hazarded.

“I was already here by then, so I don’t know what happened outside afterward,” Grandar replied.

“I see. Regardless, his awakening from his slumber has strengthened and will likely continue to strengthen the deviants. This isn’t good for humankind in the long run.”

“That will likely be the case, but I think the one you should be worried about isn’t the deviant armies but Banjol himself. He is an existence equivalent to the rest of us.”

“…”

Roel’s expression turned grave.

He knew that Grandar’s ‘rest of us’ referred to the ancient gods he had contracted thus far, which meant that Banjol wielded strength comparable to the powerful gods in the ancient era. His powers likely surpassed even those of the Death God, who had attempted to assassinate Roel in the Witness State.

There was not a single human in the present era who possessed equivalent strength. This was an unprecedentedly powerful enemy for Roel.

To make things worse, Banjol was not just any Beastman Sovereign.

“Banjol was the most talented spellcaster to have ever been born amongst the Beastmen. He was one of the Savior’s High Priests, as well as the only Beastman Sovereign crowned by virtue of his spellcasting proficiency.”

“He’s a spellcaster?”

“Most ancient races, particularly the Giants and the Beastmen, wield transcendental powers strongly inclined toward physical prowess. It’s not worthwhile for us to develop our spellcasting capabilities, since whatever we can achieve with spells is likely to be lackluster compared to our physical prowess, which is why there are very few spellcasters around. In fact, it’s nigh impossible for a spellcaster to become a Race Sovereign. Yet, Banjol accomplished the feat.”

It was common for muscular meatheads to look down on spellcasters—Knight Kingdom Pendor and their obsession with physical prowess was a good example of that. This culture was even more rampant for the Beastmen, who were naturally blessed with superior physiques.

Banjol would have to oppose deep-seated traditions in order to climb to the top of his race and be crowned as the Beastman Sovereign, but he accomplished this nigh-impossible feat.

“Banjol’s bloodline ability is more than just a simple offensive spell. He has landed a hit on you; that’d significantly lower your chances of defeating him.”

“Grandar, you seem to know him quite well?”

“We were once comrades who fought alongside each other. He was one of the few people I acknowledged in that era. I thought the Beastmen would scale to a greater height under his leadership. None of us could have thought that it was actually a path leading to destruction…” Grandar remarked wistfully.

“…I see.”

Roel’s eyes narrowed as he came to realize just how powerful his enemy was. Banjol wouldn’t go easy on him just because he used to be Grandar’s friend back in the ancient era. If anything, he was more likely to exploit his knowledge of Grandar’s weaknesses to defeat him.

That made Roel even warier of his enemy, which further fueled his desperation to learn more about Banjol. Grandar understood the situation Roel was in, so he slowly explained the spells and abilities Banjol possessed one by one.

As the two of them exchanged critical intelligence about the enemy, another intense discussion was taking place in the garden outside.

…

In the Moonsoul Tower, Artasia didn’t immediately get to work even after Roel had fallen asleep. Instead, she quietly stared at Roel, the smile on her lips slowly fading.

Roel was so accustomed to injuries that he could function as normal even in an injured state, but beneath the surface, he was suffering from many smaller wounds and internal traumas. Exhaustion came flooding in as soon as he let himself relax a little.

While Artasia and Roel had met a number of times now, he had always been awake during their encounters. This was the first time she was seeing him asleep, and that piqued her curiosity.

Roel was still as dashing as ever, but asleep, he gave off such a peaceful atmosphere that one felt sorry for him instead. His body was on the slender side for a soldier, and it felt like it was shouldering far more weight than it was supposed to bear.

Artasia’s madder-red eyes flickered with unreadable emotions. She first examined Roel before taking another step toward him. Her hand reached out for his sleeping visage so carefully that it looked as if she was dealing with fragile glass.

“…Has it finally reached this turning point?” Artasia murmured after a long silence.

Her eyes glimmered with worry as she looked at Roel’s chest while intensifying the healing glow from her hands. Roel’s impaired heart slowly healed under her recovery spell. It was only after a long while that Artasia’s worried expression finally faded.

She stood up with the intention to leave, only to pause halfway through. She looked at Roel’s sleeping face once more and fell still.

The white fog continuously drifted past the two of them.

Many emotions flickered across Artasia’s face, but her expression soon hardened up. Her cheeks flushed red as she slowly lowered her body toward Roel, only to be abruptly interrupted by a childlike voice from behind.

“I didn’t think that these are the thoughts you harbor.”

“!”

Artasia immediately stood right back up and turned around, her madder-red eyes filled with shock and anger.

“You!”

“Fufu. Did I get in your way? My apologies,” Edavia replied with an innocent smile, though her tone didn’t sound apologetic at all. “I did consider taking a back seat to watch the show, but I am contracted with him. I shouldn’t allow someone with a dubious origin to approach him.”

“…”

Edavia eyed Artasia with a devilish smile, but to her surprise, the latter didn’t lose her temper. Instead, the Witch Queen fell silent as her anger slowly subsided.

“What a surprise. I thought you would at least try to refute my words,” Edavia remarked.

“And why would I have to do that? Spiriteer Sovereign Edavia, I believe you have gotten your place wrong. I have been here long before you contracted with him,” Artasia replied.

“Of course, of course. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a suspicious fellow… I don’t remember there being a witch like you.”

“…I don’t know what you’re saying. Isn’t it normal that you don’t remember me?” Artasia asked with narrowed eyes. “You’re an evil god whom Sia sealed off shortly after the world’s creation. There’s no reason you should know about the Witches, who were born afterward. I don’t see why you should remember me.”

“Yes, I did retire from the world early, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know.” Edavia’s braided hair slowly unraveled as her presence became much stronger. She looked at the unfamiliar Witch Queen, who was conspicuously absent from her memories, and said, “I was imprisoned, but the conditions were not bad. I had plenty of reading material in the Inner Sanctum to pass my time.”

“What?”

“The Inner Sanctum contains an infinite library full of books about all beings to have ever existed in this world. Countless years I have passed by immersing myself in those stories. Some lives can be summarized with a few short sentences, whereas others are as thick as a dictionary. I can’t help but wonder… why are you not in it?”

“…”

Artasia fell silent, not answering Edavia’s question at all. In response, the latter fully released her orange hair from their braids, as an air of malevolence thickened around her.

“Say something, won’t you? I’d at least like to avoid making a move on you without the Kingmaker’s permission.”

“I feel the same. I have no intention of turning you into my enemy… You are necessary to him.”

“You sure do care quite a bit about him. Why don’t we talk things out, then?”

“…”

Once again, Artasia fell silent.

Seconds slowly passed.

Just as Edavia was about to reach the limits of her patience, the Witch Queen suddenly said, “…If you are that curious, why don’t you take a look yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t have any problem peering into the souls of others, right?”

Edavia frowned.

As the Spiriteer Sovereign, she did wield the power to peer into souls at her whim, but this was hardly the point she was getting at. What she was concerned about was the true identity of the Witch Queen, not the shape of her soul.

She raised her eyebrows, but she stopped short of questioning Artasia. She noticed that the latter had a composed expression; it didn’t seem like she was trying to change the subject.

She’s serious about this? Edavia wondered.

Thus, she began assessing the Witch Queen. Moments later, her eyes dilated in shock.

“How could this be…” Edavia murmured in disbelief.

Soon, she thought of something and fell into a daze. She stared at the white-haired Witch Queen for a long time before she regained her composure. Her malevolent aura also slowly receded.

“…I see. I was being too nosy.”

“You were, but I understand,” Artasia calmly replied.

Edavia looked a little conflicted. She sighed under her breath before turning around. “I won’t say anything unnecessary. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Mm.”

“I’ll be returning to my books, then. Till the next time.”

Edavia’s silhouette faded into thin air, leaving Artasia and Roel by themselves in the garden. The Witch Queen stared at the space where the evil god had vanished with contemplative eyes. A long time later, she turned her head back to Roel and heaved a sigh.

“Tsk. I’ve lost my mood…” Artasia murmured before turning her focus toward the white fog that contained countless lives.

…