Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 279 - 255: The Villain’s Role that Got into Character
The Spine Wheel raced through the woods, with Raphael bathed in light, following leisurely behind. Ever since just a moment ago, the number of creatures hanging from the strange wheel had been increasing—they were calling for reinforcements, no doubt. Raphael set down the Wenditegon he had been charging in his hand. Call more, he thought; to annihilate one was to annihilate, to annihilate a group was also to annihilate. To purify so much evil at once was indeed an effortless task.
Raphael had never considered the possibility of defeat, for he had been invincible in the outside world for quite some time.
On the Spine Wheel, the Plague Doctor, the three Literary Society members, and Veraliz had already discussed their plan.
"Very well, our plan is meticulous and refined. Come on, comrades, we can definitely make it out alive!"
Veraliz and the gentleman gathered shadows, while Mr. Delusion assembled more mechanical arms behind his back. Mr. Journalist had a vacant look in his eyes, as if he were struggling with a difficult decision.
"Action!"
The Spine Wheel, inner ring detaches!
Lyle and Nia worked together to manipulate the flesh, disengaging the stationary flesh inner ring, and everyone landed on the ground. Nia’s tendrils picked up the rapidly spinning bone outer wheel and tossed it like a hula hoop in the air, looping it back toward Raphael. The sharp bone spikes whirled like a buzzsaw with a piercing shriek, only to be smashed to bits by Raphael’s Holy Sword. The flying bone fragments, like shrapnel from an exploding grenade, assaulted Raphael’s form with their force. His wings folded in, the golden Angelic feathers shielding him from harm, leaving him unscathed.
But as planned, the closed wings obscured Raphael’s vision, and at this stage, he would not attack.
Shadows entangle!
The surging shadows swallowed all of Raphael’s light, snatching yet another moment to breathe.
Mr. Delusion had already begun to draw a magic circle on the ground, his multiple arms making him resemble a spider, or perhaps a high-speed printer. He drew the magic circle, completed the ritual, summoning the darkness.
Mr. Journalist also used his power. Brass gears appeared out of nowhere behind him, and chains rusty with age started to slide between the clouds and the Journalist. Mr. Journalist was a Pact-Maker, the Keeper of Secrets—his abilities were related to keeping guarded secrets.
"Bury the Secrets."
His voice was imperiously unlike his own. As he finished speaking, the brass gears began to rotate in reverse, and from his body, more chains emerged, intertwining in the air to form an airtight cocoon, enveloping everyone within.
Mr. Journalist sighed with relief. "All is well. I’ve sacrificed a secret barrier made from the hundred powerful secrets I know. Its strength should suffice for us to complete the ritual. We have enough time; we can hold out for another fifteen..."
He didn’t finish his sentence when a blinding light shattered the heavily layered chains, and Raphael stood relaxed amidst the light, looking at the baffled crowd.
"How long can you hold up?"
"We can hold up... for fifteen minutes."
"Didn’t it just get broken in less than ten seconds?"
Mr. Journalist looked at Raphael before him and shrugged helplessly. "Plan failed. We’re done for. Luckily, the Angel didn’t give us time to consider what to write in our wills."
Is this what despair feels like? As the shattering chain fragments were completely devoured by the Holy Light, everyone felt the oppression of the Holy Light directly. Different from Lyle and Veraliz, the three members of the Literary Society faced the Holy Light’s might with relaxed expressions—they had become resilient from being beaten so often.
Just when Lyle thought his life was coming to an end,
"Go on, why stop drawing? Aren’t you going to call for help? If not, then I’ll just finish you off."
From the sky, Raphael’s voice rang out.
Mr. Journalist tilted his head, "Aren’t you going to destroy us, Angel? We are performing a ritual to summon the darkness, after all."
Raphael smiled at the tablecloth before him.
"So that darkness is your final trump card? Then hurry up and complete your ritual. Once you’re done, I’ll send your entire family on their way."
Mr. Journalist turned to the gentleman and said without disguise,
"This Angel is so arrogant."
Under Raphael’s gaze, the gentleman begrudgingly replied to Mr. Journalist, "He turned your fifteen minutes into a few seconds. How could he not be arrogant? I’m not even sure now if Mr. Dark can beat him."
Mr. Delusion stood up, pointing his finger towards Raphael at an angle.
"Fiend! Birdman, you’ve gone too far! Once we summon the Master of Darkness, we shall make your life a living hell."
"Delusion! Have you lost your mind? Provoking him at a time like this?"
"I haven’t lost it. Haven’t you realized? The Angel is letting us fully summon Mr. Dark; our lives now depend on Mr. Dark’s strength. We have to go all in! The provocation is part of the act; we need to make Mr. Dark believe he can defeat the Angel, thus defeating the Angel. First of all, we need to delude ourselves!"
"Do you understand? Shadow of Plague, Chain of Secrecy, Light of Fallen, Dark Offering!"
"Understood, Mechanism of Mourning!" The gentleman and Mr. Journalist immediately got into character, even excitedly howling.
While Lyle and Veraliz covered their foreheads, a strange and mysterious dark magic altar had already been drawn. The three Literary Society members each found their corner.
"Light of Fallen, go to that corner. We’re going to assemble the power of the Four Heavenly Kings and destroy the world!"
"...Alright."
"Sacrifice, go to the center."
"...Avonreiter, I’m very angry, the kind that can’t be appeased."
"The ritual begins!" Lyle looked at the circular magic sigil he was in, where Mr. Delusion had even thoughtfully filled in the dialogue.
Elder evils beyond ancient times, origin of the shadows of fall;
Thy servants chant Thy name;
Our yearning shall cross the city of fear filled with corpses, reaching Your palace;
You are the inversion of justice, the accumulation of all sins in this world;
The deadliest poison is like spring water to You;
The ugliest sin is like new clothes to You;
At this moment, we sacrifice the ignorant girl and the beast of shadow to You;
As well as the pitiable ones named Holy Light, awaiting Your trampling;
Descend, sin of the apocalypse, my Light of Fallen/Mechanical Woe/Chain of Secrecy/Shadow of Plague and Master;
Supreme Demon Lord, Mr. Dark!
As the three of them lifted their fingers from pressing the Andrey insignia, a crack opened in the space right above Veraliz in the center of the altar, and the dark shadowy magic stirred up a wild wind, causing even the brilliance of the Holy Flame to flicker.
Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee...
The sinister laughter of Mr. Dark echoed from the fissure, a laugh so peculiar that Mr. Dark certainly practiced it for a long time behind the scenes.
The voice commanded before the person appeared.
"I feel it! All the power is converging within me! I have finally broken the seal! Ancient shadow fire that slumbers within me, bring annihilation to this ridiculous world! Hahahahaha!"
The ritual was complete, now all that was needed was for Mr. Dark and Raphael to fight.
"Hold on, I’m adding a DEBUFF to the angel," Mr. Delusion stepped forward again, pointing at Raphael, "Hey, Birdman! Now you know the power of our lord, don’t you feel your whole body trembling! Soon, you won’t worry about that because you will be devoured by darkness, hahahaha!"
"Delusion, what is this DEBUFF you’re speaking of?"
"Typical novel trope, when a big character appears, there needs to be someone who makes them look impressive. See the angel, isn’t he getting nervous?"
Just as Delusion said, Raphael looked serious, as if he realized this foe was not easy to deal with.
Mr. Dark emerged step by step from the shadows; his body, enwrapped in flying bandages, was like the embodiment of despair’s deathly stillness.
Raphael was stunned.
"Hahaha, you see, gentlemen, our boss scared the angel silly."
Mr. Dark, looking at the angel before him, made a sound.
"Oh, if it isn’t little angel Raphael?"
Raphael hung his head low and lifted it again, his eyes burning with Holy Flame; his body enveloped in Holy Flame, he raised four Holy Swords high.
Divine descent. Holy Light, like a cascade, floods upon Raphael as he dons a set of armor with a terrifying aura of flame, with the gathered power of Holy Light forming a halo above his head.
Raphael Pembai, in angelic form.
"I’ve waited for this moment for a long, long time." Intense Holy Light burst forth like a torrent, blowing Lyle and the others away.
"Today, I shall slay you! George!! You’re going to turn to ashes in the Holy Light, damn it!!!!!" The enraged Raphael attacked Mr. Dark furiously.
"Delusion, this is the DEBUFF you talked about? The angel is now acting like he’s on drugs."
"That’s the protagonist’s cosmos erupting. I just remembered, we’re the villains; that intimidation earlier was actually a minion’s remark."
"Liches aren’t the main character! Reality is such a trashy novel!"
