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

Chapter 542.1: Commencement of War (1)

Chapter 542.1: Commencement of War (1)

Don’t you think that there’s something weird about the skies above?

This was the most common topic in Ascart City in recent days.

Chatting about the weather was a real pastime on the Sia Continent. It was an easy topic to understand, allowing most people to participate in the conversation, not to mention that it was highly relevant to their daily lives too.

Such had been the case in Roel’s previous life too. It was not just news about groundbreaking scientific breakthroughs, but news relevant to the populace that became viral.

In Ascart City, the topic was the longer-than-usual nights.

Three days ago, while the populace was still enjoying the afterglow from the New Year’s Day festivities, the sky suddenly dimmed. Since then, the days had gotten much shorter. The sun would only appear near noon and swiftly vanish when evening arrived.

The populace initially attributed it to the longer nights in winter—it wasn’t uncommon for there to be afternoons where it looked like the sun hadn’t risen yet in the face of bad weather—but it soon became apparent that something was off when the sky remained dark despite the absence of snow and rain. Worse still, even the stars and the moon vanished without a trace.

It was almost as if someone had cast a veil over the sky.

The severely shortened daytime disrupted the work-life cycle of the populace. Streetlights had to remain lit for far longer hours.

Many theories began floating around the populace.

The locals who had grown up in the Ascart Fiefdom were more optimistic about the situation, choosing not to let the phenomenon bother them too much. Some of them even thought of it as an interesting, whimsical event.

While the Ascart House had not always been able to bring them prosperity, it had never faltered in ensuring the safety and livelihood of its people. The Ascarts’ powerful army gave them the confidence to stand upright even in the face of danger.

In contrast, those who had just immigrated to the Ascart Fiefdom were much more pessimistic. One didn’t have to be well educated to understand that such a climate didn’t bode well, not to mention that spending a long time in darkness could be incredibly stifling.

A long queue had formed in front of the cathedral at the city center, where concerned citizens queried the clergymen about the cause behind the phenomenon in the sky. The clergymen, who had liaised with the Ascarts about this matter, did their best to assuage the people’s worries and maintain order.

Unfortunately, there were also believers of the apocalypse who went around preaching about the end of the world, spreading fear and panic. Whispers about ‘Sia’s Retribution’ and whatnot spread through the alleys and the shadows.

Roel knew better than to show mercy to such people.

He did support free speech, as someone coming from the modern world, but at the same time, he knew the dangers of allowing falsehoods to take root at a critical time like this. Weighing the pros and cons, it was clear what he ought to prioritize here.

It was a good thing that the severe crackdown he had ordered before New Year’s Day had landed many criminals in jail, so there wasn’t a huge spike in crimes despite the rippling unease. However, it would be too optimistic to expect the situation to remain this stable in the long term.

There was a limit to how much a person could take.

The persistent darkness felt oppressive even to transcendents, let alone ordinary civilians. Unease would swiftly spread amongst the populace once the initial curiosity died down, and this could culminate in something disastrous.

Roel had read about enough precedents to understand the underlying dangers, but he wasn’t too worried about it. He knew that the monster lurking in the sky couldn’t wait that long.

In the Ascarts’ manor, Roel stared at the undulating darkness with glowing golden eyes, his tightly clenched fists reflecting his extreme vigilance. Over the past three days, the Ascart Fiefdom had grown progressively darker as an invisible pressure from above intensified.

He could feel it.

It was nearing its breaking point.

He had been keeping a close eye on the mana concentration through the glasses he had received as a gift from Alicia. From its initial purplish tinge, it had come to mirror the pitch-black environment outside.

It was plainly obvious that the enemy was up to something, but he chose not to make a move. Through his communication with Grandar and Peytra, he learned that the enemy was trying to construct their domain.

The term ‘domain’ would have been foreign to the transcendents of the present era, since they could freely cast spells without relying on such rituals. The only time domains were summoned nowadays was during church rites, but even those were only for symbolic purposes.

Of course, the domain that was being summoned by the enemy this time around was not just for show. It was a bloodline awakening ritual, and its target wasn’t a human.

“They are planning to awaken a being possessing a god’s bloodline… That’ll be a troublesome adversary to deal with.” Peytra deduced the enemy’s ploy upon sensing the peculiar aura.

The highest existences on the Sia Continent were the gods, but unlike what was foretold in the legends, they weren’t immortal beings with an eternity lying ahead of them. As eras passed and the environment changed, they slowly faded out of existence.

But just like how the High Elves, the Angels, and the other ancient races preserved their lineages through humans, some of the powerful malevolent ones prolonged their existence by finding mediums capable of harnessing their powers and endowing them with their bloodline.

The only difference was that those who had inherited the bloodline of the malevolent ones weren’t allowed to live their own lives. The malevolent ones treated these inheritors as spare avatars, controlling their bodies as if they were their own.

While it was a vile manner of existence, it allowed the malevolent ones to circumvent the inevitable senescence and survive through the ages. These surviving malevolent ones later came to be termed ‘Fallens’.

“I can smell the stench of the Fallens even from down here. It’s so repulsive that it makes me want to throw up,” Roel murmured with a slight frown.

From the moment he confirmed the identity of the enemy, he also found the answers to the questions he had harbored all this while.

The discovery of the Collector in the Austine Empire’s northern forest was indeed a ploy.

The goal was to draw the attention of the two Origin Level 1 Race Sovereigns closest to Roel, thus creating an opening for the Fallens to attack Roel at the place where he thought that he would be safe. It was a thorough feint meticulously prepared over months, accounting even for Roel and the others’ skepticism.

And now, the ploy had reached its final phase.

“They must be the ones interfering with Artasia’s passageway,” Roel said grimly.

The Fallens had prepared this elaborate scheme with the goal of taking Roel down. Everything would have been for naught if they stumbled at the final step, which was why they had to take steps to ensure that the ritual wouldn’t be disrupted halfway through. For that, it was necessary that they sealed off Artasia even if they had to pay a hefty price for it.

The ritual was currently being channeled in the open as if taunting Roel that he couldn’t do anything about it, but in truth, Artasia could have easily unraveled it if she had been present. Spells and rituals fell under the Witch Queen’s jurisdiction, after all.

Without Artasia, Roel wouldn’t be able to unravel the enemy’s domain even with Ascendwing.

“Forget it; it’s futile to fuss over the details now,” Roel muttered with a sigh before turning around to face Cynthia and the others.

“Holy Son, we have finished preparing the bunkers inside the city. Should we…” Cynthia asked with a respectful bow.

“Mm, it’s about time. Ring the war alarms and commence evacuation,” Roel ordered with a nod. With a much darker tone, he added, “War is coming.”

…

On the third day following the darkening of the sky above the Ascart Fiefdom, the Ascarts rang the war alarm and ordered a mass evacuation.

The populace was baffled. In their view, the darkening sky phenomenon was an annoyance, but they were still able to go about their daily lives. It was not as if a huge army had marched up to their borders to invade them. They couldn’t comprehend why the war alarms had been rung.

This abrupt evacuation piqued the dissatisfaction of the people, especially since it was a huge disruption to their daily lives. However, in view of Roel’s prestige and recent decisive moves, no one dared to openly defy him yet.

It was not on a whim that Roel chose to order the people to evacuate today. He was certain that the monster in the sky had already taken shape and was about to emerge from the clouds. The other high transcendents could also tell this from the occasional massive silhouette flickering amidst the darkness.

All it took was a single spark for a full-blown war to commence.

Roel also found the culprit who had injured the Spiritsense Hatchling back then—it was a demonic beast that had been prowling in the dark sky. It had red eyes and a black body, resembling a hybrid between a hawk and a crow.

Neither Roel nor Alicia recognized that ominous-looking demonic beast. Peytra was unfamiliar with it too. Much to everyone’s surprise, it was the reticent Grandar who addressed their doubts.