How to Live as a Tyrant’s Spoiled Brat Chapter 132

How to live as a tyrant's spoiled brat Episode 132

(132)

Geseles, the skinny, four-armed wizard, was secretly dismayed by Phyllis' death.

Of course, this wasn't strange, considering that he was more specialized in mobility than combat, and that he was a groom rather than a fighter to begin with.

Even with all that in mind, I didn't know that that knight named Tentia could cut off his head in one breath.

Actually, it didn't really matter.

There were many eroders as big as Phyllis beneath them.

Who said that a predator dies from cutting off his head?

“Heeeeeeling!”

Tentia gritted her teeth as she watched the horse's head and the fox-like body begin to flail about.

She first crushed the horse's head with her heel, completely crushing it, and then rushed at the side of its raccoon-like body.

I was thinking that I should cut off one leg at a time, because if I was not careful, the torso's legs might start to fly around individually.

It's not a bad decision.

Gesseres stood up with that thought in mind.

As I gazed upon the young wizard standing before my eyes.

The stone thorns were very hard and sharp, but they did not penetrate his fleshy body very well.

Lightning magic was basically a 4th circle spell, and it took him 30 years to learn 4th circle level destruction magic.

The young wizard in front of me seemed to be a little over twenty years old.

His facial expression didn't change at all, as if it was nothing special.

'iced coffee.'

How splendid and longed for it was.

I thought while looking at the backs of those who went first.

He said that one day he would hold my back in his hands.

Geseles rose into the air again, his purple eyes shining.

She was so beautiful, I didn't want to break her.

Let's tie it up properly, grab the red mask, and take it with us on the way back.

As I was thinking like that and about to recite the binding spell.

Flash!

A second lightning strike slammed his body into the ground.

“Who are you reaching out to? With talent like that, you’ll never make it this far.”

Sereraji sat on the wall and smiled faintly.

The moon, peeking through the clouds, backlit her face, leaving her two differently colored eyes shining blue and yellow.

She tapped the wall lightly with her heel and gestured lazily.

“You seem a little surprised?”

Gesseres looked at the body starting to smoke.

'Hmm.'

Since he had no blood flowing through his body, he was virtually immune to lightning.

But the wizard in front of him was somehow sending electricity into his body.

It was so surprising and delightful.

“Stationmaster.”

The black wizard with four arms outstretched rose into the air again.

A translucent purple field surrounded him.

I was able to block the 4th circle magic, 'Lightning', more than ten times.

Geseles made a hand seal with all four of his hands and prepared a binding spell.

A magic strong enough to bind a glowing giant was completed in an instant.

Looking at that, Sereraji thought.

'How miserable and worthless I look!'

In her view, doing with four hands what others can do with two hands was an admission that one's skills were not even half of others'.

It was so disgusting to see him pretending to be so relaxed and to pretend to have realized something great.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. A garment that is buttoned wrongly will eventually become unwearable. Dispel!”

* * *

Gesele was sure that the magic would not work.

Even the most genius would have a hard time surpassing the amount of mana accumulated over time in a short period of time.

As expected, his binding magic still glowed in your hands.

“It was a crowd… … !”

“It will go away on its own soon.”

What Sereraji dispelled was not a binding magic, but a force field.

That was several times more difficult.

Flash!

A third lightning strike struck Gesele's body.

My concentration was disrupted, and the binding spell I had painstakingly created was shattered with the sound of breaking glass.

Gesseres thought as he fell to the ground again.

If things continue like this, I might not only lose her, but I might even lose the Red Mask.

If he did that, the priest would not forgive him.

Revenge had to be done.

He regained his balance before his body hit the ground again, wrapped himself around the force field, and floated up to the wall where Sereraji was sitting.

Flash!

Flash!

Flash!

Lightning bolts streaked down from the giant clouds.

"what……!"

Gesseres cried out in a state of bewilderment, beyond confusion.

Sereraji was still sitting on the wall, smiling faintly.

Only then did Gesseres realize that he could never jump over that wall.

“!”

In Sereraji just now, they didn't just say 'lightning'.

He said, 'designated lightning strike.'

You had to be able to summon a giant thundercloud, and that was technically a 6th circle spell.

Even the most genius couldn't use 6th circle magic in his early 20s.

“Royal family!”

“Do you understand now? With that kind of observation, what kind of wizard are you planning to become?”

Sereraji laughed sadistically, and Geseles used blink magic.

His body was enveloped in purple light and appeared and disappeared repeatedly 30 meters above the ground, then 60 meters above the ground.

Your four hands each drew different handprints, and magic spells such as 'Psychic Blade', 'Power Spear', 'Psychic Shot', and 'Psychic Chain' poured down from all directions.

Sereraji looked at Gereses as if he felt sorry for him.

“Is that what you got in the end by doing that?”

Dispel.

It was different from when I fought Finalcia.

She had already gathered a huge amount of mana in the air using the energy of the dragon's words, and was able to cast spells without using the mana stored in her heart.

Dozens of spells scattered with the sound of breaking glass.

Taking advantage of the gap, Gereses broke through Sereraji and flew after the enemy mask.

Purple lights flashed in the air.

It was impossible to strike him with lightning, targeting only the material state, as he moved between the material and immaterial states.

“I told you, it’s not a chain of lightning strikes, it’s a designated lightning strike.”

What Sereraji wrote was the magic that made that possible.

Flash!

Lightning struck every time Geseles blinked and appeared in the next space.

The hard, dry black body gradually burned and crumbled, scattering into the air.

Sereraji looked at him with a mixture of pity and contempt.

I pitied one human and despised one wizard.

'Is it the job of a wizard to accept the truth that someone gives you, calling it truth and saying that this is true power? A priest can do that. But you are a wizard, not a priest.'

If someone were to reach the end of the magic first, she would congratulate them, but would not be jealous.

Because she had the truth to reach in her own way.

'The process of seeking the truth is the path to reaching the real truth.'

Knowledge is power, and receiving knowledge is ultimately receiving power.

'How can the power given by others become your truth?'

Sereraji shook his head as he watched Geceres fall to the floor.

He wasn't even worth studying.

Then Rudy, who was on a nearby roof, called her.

“Your Majesty the Serenade.”

“Why is that?”

“Over there… … it seems like there are more eroders.”

* * *

Barbatos, Commander of the Black Iron Knights.

A man with a height of over 2m, a beard that looked like it hadn't been shaved for about 3 days, and the impression of a black lion in his prime leading a herd.

It was a year ago that he first remembered the exact name of the imperial family, Valencianus.

When he arrested Tentia for stealing the nib of the Ulgrim's pen, Valencianus mobilized the Platinum Knights to petition for his release.

I heard from a platinum knight named Bonnell that he said this:

'But if you make a petition, I can save face for Sir Barbatos by saying that I have no choice but to release you because of your petition.'

The moment Barbatos heard those words, he was convinced.

Valencian was by no means a thoughtless rascal.

Even when rumors spread that he was going in and out of the red-light district and slums like he was eating bread, that he had killed, beaten, and raped someone, and that he had annihilated the remaining members of the royal family.

Even when people said that he had beheaded the Marquis, kidnapped the Saint, and attempted to assassinate the Northern Duke.

He secretly believed in Valencian.

But when he heard him say something about a bone-armored eroder who called himself 'Mandrion' or something, he suspected Valencianus for the first time.

'If the saint suddenly comes running towards me, I have to beat him up with all my might and send him back somehow.'

Is this something a human being can say?

The very idea that one could strike a saint was beyond Barbatos' understanding.

Barbatos thought he should scold Valencian harshly to correct his bad habits, but Mandrion's shell was unexpectedly hard and his eyes were shining so desperately that he let it slide for now.

Contrary to his appearance, which made it seem like he trained his brain, Barbatos was a knight with both great wisdom and swordsmanship.

He studied a variety of tactics and strategies against a variety of environments and enemies, and enjoyed war games and chess.

“Oh, God of Light.”

Now he had just gained the upper hand over Mandrion, and he understood why Valencian had said such a thing.

* * *

I thought to myself as I fired my 'fire spear' into the joints of this giant five-legged flower aphid borer.

Everything was going well.

I noticed their movements from the beginning.

The evacuation of residents was also done well by the clergy.

There were more of them than I expected, and they were stronger than I expected, but I managed to hold them off for quite some time, until the saint arrived just in time to melt half of those giant aphid babies.

Yes, I can assure you that everything was going well.

… … The hardest thing about dealing with eroders isn’t their teeth, claws, or strange magic.

Because of the mental wave, the civilians you are supposed to protect or the soldiers you are fighting alongside can suddenly turn into enemies.

So the military did not synergize with the invaders, and urban warfare did not synergize with the invaders.

I had a hard time with that even before I returned.

Still, I had 40 years of experience in this life.

Either they somehow managed to force them into an underground sewer, or they caught them in a remote place, or they weren't the type to increase their own kind in the first place, or they just used a combination of luck and skill to pull it off.

I guess that's where my luck ended.

From my experience before the return, the higher up the eroders who formed a proper sect, the more they used mental waves and magic, while the lower ones used their bodies.

It was easy to predict that that giant aphid-like thing would use psychic waves.

Of course, that's why the battle priests were praying suppression prayers all over the rooftops, suppressing and scattering the bastard's mental waves.

Unfortunately, the thing was able to walk, and made it outside the battle priests' encirclement before the saint and I could cut off all of its legs.

What happened next?

“Kkieeeek!”

Fortunately, the nearby residents had evacuated to some extent, and the thing was not completely out of the priests' sphere of influence, so the 10,000 people were not suddenly corrupted and turned into monsters.

Not 10,000 people, but about 1/100 of that number changed.

They were cigarette smugglers who had either not complied with the evacuation order, were unable to comply, or had not run away earlier and were hiding in the market.

If they had all turned into monsters at once, they could have just asked Barbatos or the Saint to send them some more knights or paladins, and that would have been the end of it.

The problem was that he didn't turn into a monster right away.

The priests' spells strongly suppressed the aphid's psychic powers, and the people were very, very slowly eroded and mutated.

Matteos performed a miracle at the Altenberg Monastery early last spring.

The erosion was so severe that even if it had been purified, it would have killed the person, but it saved his life.

I knew that every miracle came with a price.

If you think about it, my being sober and acting like a fool was also the price of the miracle called regression.

So what is the price paid to someone who saves someone who cannot be saved?

"help!"

“Saint! I am fine! Please take care of my child first.”

From now on, you will never be able to turn away from it.

“Archduke Valen! It’s not too late. I’ll be back.”

Mateos turned around urgently.

I looked left and right, sighing.

The aphid was writhing in confusion and curling up.

It was clear that he was thinking of running away somewhere.

Fortunately, his mouth was already ablaze with divine power, so it seemed unable to send out any additional mental waves.

But if it escapes, it will eat people, regain its strength, and then attempt to contaminate them once more, this time in a place where there are no priests to suppress its psychic waves.

At that time, 10,000 citizens could have turned into invaders at once.

Should I send Mateos and take him down by myself?

It was difficult.

Mateos had to pierce its carapace one more time before I could set its insides on fire.

“Saint!”

A mother pushing a wheelchair with an injured child cried out in sorrow.

I wish my eardrums would burst right now.

Unfortunately, the title of Grand Duke did not allow for an outward appearance.

Someone has to choose, someone has to take responsibility, and we have to silence those who only ask, “What right do you have to choose?” and offer no alternatives.

You have to drink alcohol mixed with tears alone, thinking that there might have been a better way.

I grabbed Mateos' wrist as he was about to turn towards the people.