What Happens When The Second Male Lead Powers Up [EN]: Chapter 795

Ressentiment (6)

-Thwack!

“Ow!”

‘Ouch.’ Joan frantically rubbed her forehead in the pitch-black darkness of the thicket.

She had tried to climb the branches quickly but ended up getting a head-butt from a twig.

The sound of people murmuring on the ground reached her ears.

The painter adjusted her crooked headscarf and looked down.

The boy with snow-white hair particularly caught her eye.

The group huddled together was, at first glance, a collection of people with almost no common ground.

There was Herrit, who had flown in at the urgent command of the late Grand Preceptor, and Dduk-sim; Paul Blancarte, the husband of Duchess Cecile Blancarte (he was the temporary head of the duchy and blessed by the Divine Bow).

Sir Michel Mutet, the father of Elizabeth Mutet (who accompanied them as a doctor), Countess Berenice Mendy, a member of the reading club ‘Courtly Romance’ (who came along because she was Joan’s friend).

And the Duchesses Maria and Therese Dhiem (who came as Herrit’s guardians), along with the escort knights from each family.

Eva, who had actually directed this entire operation, couldn’t even come this far due to time constraints!

-Whoosh······

“Am I really going all the way to the top? Does it even make sense that I’m carrying out this national-level operation alone?”

“Of course, Baron! Cheer up!”

“No, what if I fail? Are you trying to send me back to prison!”

“That’s not true! You can do it, genius painter!”

“Have you been injured?”

Therese and Maria cried out as if they had been waiting for it, and only Sir Michel asked with a worried voice.

‘This is driving me crazy,’ Joan thought. She waved her hand a few times to indicate that it was nothing and headed upwards again.

The giant sacred tree slowly opened its branches as if welcoming her.

Squirrels, awakened from their sleep by the rustling leaves, scurried away.

-Whoo-ooo······

“Wow······.”

-Rustle, rustle, rustle······

The Divine Bow of the Sacred Tree was by far the tallest, most lush, and grandest tree Joan had ever seen in her life.

Even if you used the longest ladder in the duchy, it would take a long time to reach the top.

The moon hanging in the clouds was ominously hazy that night, and the forests of eastern Liester were still chilly like late winter, even in March.

Yet, the sacred tree had not lost its peaceful, primeval beauty.

The hanging flower vines, bird nests, and even squirrel burrows looked mystical.

Even Joan, who had no religious faith to speak of, felt a strangely overwhelming sensation.

The benevolent Divine Bow did not guard against or fear her, and did not show any aggression at all.

Joan put her nose to her wrist and sniffed.

“······They say it bestows the blessing of divine power on those with a ‘fragrant soul.’ I guess I’m not too bad after all.”

-Swish, swish, swish······

And so, Joan de As finally arrived.

At the large, sacred bow of the main deity, where the cool moon breeze awaited her.

-Crack!

“Ah, geez!”

At the same time, there was a sound like something breaking at the top of the tree.

The painter hurriedly looked down at the ground with a bewildered expression.

‘It’s going well!’ Her friend Berenice was waving her arms wildly in a strange rhythm.

That meant that Duke Blancarte had obtained the Sacred Tree’s permission, and at the same time, that the Divine Bow had begun its ‘transformation.’

Joan swallowed hard, witnessing the divine miracle unfolding before her eyes in real-time.

-Crackle! Snap!

“Wow, what is this······!”

-Creak! Crack, crack······!

“Heok!”

-Creek! Creak, creak······!

New branches sprouted on the tree that had seemed to stand still in time, new grass grew, and new growth rings were carved.

The shape twisted, and the form soared.

After what felt like an eternity flowing by like a dream······.

“Crazy, oh my god! You want me to shoot this? Is that even okay? Are you all seriously out of your minds?”

The painter was almost shouting in anger. It wouldn’t have been strange if her eyeballs had popped out and hung from the Divine Bow as fruit. ‘Whoosh!’ The icy wind finally snatched her hood and ran away.

The most Joan had ever grabbed in her life was her damn brother’s hair and a paintbrush.

But this Divine Bow, seriously, was just too damn big.

The emerald-colored bowstring was sharply gleaming in the soft moonlight, and if she touched it wrong, her precious fingers would be cut off!

“Let’s, let’s think about this again, huh? There’s definitely someone who can do this better than me, right?”

Joan yelled at the top of her lungs and checked below.

Even in this situation, the Divine Bow was carefully supporting her feet so she wouldn’t fall.

But there wouldn’t be many people on the entire continent who wouldn’t be scared in this situation.

Maybe Flower Song Palace Lord, who looks docile but always does reckless things!

“I’m, I’m just a layabout who paints pictures in the countryside! A bum who just receives a pension from the imperial family and lives comfortably! How can I do such a big thing? Think carefully, you’ll really regret it······!”

-Flap! Flap, flap!

Then, the refreshing sound of flapping wings pierced Joan’s ears.

Her eyeballs rolled upwards like lemon candies.

“······Herrit?”

“Hehe.”

The boy, who had grown noticeably bigger and healthier in the meantime, was looking at the Baron with a lovely expression, as always.

The soft, lilac wings on his young back fluttered gently.

Herrit before her was the child who had gone on a great adventure across the continent with Joan not long ago.

He was her admirable and proud little friend, growing up strong without any major shadows, even though he had been separated from his only blood relative for a long time.

Soon, his small lips moved.

‘Only Auntie Joan can do it.’

‘Auntie is the best at it among us.’

“······Thank you, thank you so much for saying that.”

Joan stammered in a trembling voice.

She wanted to show a grown-up side in front of the child, but it was truly difficult today.

‘What on earth was I thinking coming here?’

If her brother Emil saw her, he would laugh, saying his sister had finally gone crazy.

“Herrit, now that I think about it, you didn’t even tell your auntie properly.”

“Huh?”

“Who, who I have to shoot. I came up here not even knowing what the exact target is, Auntie doesn’t right now. Huh?”

“······.”

“Auntie’s honestly scared. What if someone gets hit by mistake and dies unfairly? This is supposed to be a weapon that never misses.”

She didn’t mean to argue with such a young child, but somehow the words came out that way.

Herrit smiled softly and held out something in his small hand.

Only then did Joan realize that the boy was holding her headscarf.

She was newly ashamed of her trembling chin and sweaty forehead.

When did he grow up so much?

“······.”

“······Thank you, my little one.”

Then, the owner of the ark slowly flew over, bent his head to her forehead, and delivered a new message.

It was nothing short of a de facto revelation.

That was the meaning of Biryeom (飛廉) [a wind deity], who yearned for ultimate freedom, having received a few drops of the deity’s capricious heart and obtained a clue to the world.

-Whoosh······

“······.”

“······What?”

Soon, shock spread across Joan’s astonished eyes.

Thus, the Divine Bow completed all preparations.

*

Finally, the fake right leg falls off.

-Clunk, clunk!

“Ugh, damn it!”

The man collapsed like a broken wooden doll, unable to finish climbing the stairs of his true nature.

‘Thud! Crash!’ His body rolled several times, his remaining left arm and left leg flailing helplessly.

A tremendous shock struck his spine, shoulder blades, and skull in succession. ‘Bang, crash!’ The Grand Preceptor opened his mouth, unable to even utter a proper groan, feeling the terrible sensation of his whole body being crushed.

Saliva flowed involuntarily, and blood streamed from his torn forehead.

The world was spinning before his eyes as if it had come to an end.

‘Sneider will not fall until the Temple of Vigilance comes to the royal capital.’

“Ah, ha······. Ugh······.”

When the fall finally stopped, Werner Venetian was lying sprawled on the landing again.

He was breathless and his whole body was trembling, making it difficult even to change his position.

But now, no one came to help the noble him.

The highest spire of the royal castle was entirely covered with corpses, and the rooms of the lower ones were empty with all the doors wide open.

Werner laboriously raised his left hand. His wrinkled hand was very rough, dry, and full of scars.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh······.”

They deceived him.

“Keuh, keuheuk, ugh······.”

The vile old woman, Bojena, that cursed race—dared to deceive and mislead the Grand Preceptor of a nation, enticing and manipulating him with sweet words.

What he thought was honey turned out to be poison.

What he thought was a blessing turned out to be a disaster.

He bit his lip and stared at his trembling fingertips.

His blood-red fingernails were broken here and there. Suddenly, a scene came to mind. The scythe that had slipped from his grasp······.

‘······Yeser?’

‘-Swoosh!’

‘-Thwack!’

Blood spurting like a fountain. A body falling without resistance.

The image that would be branded on the inside of his eyelids until the day he died.

‘Lord God! Count, the Princess of the Divine Nation has been seriously injured!’

The blue eyes to which he had dedicated his entire life.

‘There isn’t even a priest to oversee the ceremony?’

‘Hey! Watch your words!’

Elissa. His Elissa.

“Heok, ugh, waaack!”

Werner twisted his body and vomited everything in his stomach.

There was nothing but sour gastric juice and black ink.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop vomiting.

It seemed as if he had to pull out all his insides to stop the current nausea.

For a while, only his screaming, retching sounds echoed in the empty building.

“······Elissa······. My sun, keok, my treasure······.”

Only when his exhausted body began to convulse did the vomiting finally stop.

Werner’s eyes were gleaming like melting metal.

“Heok, revenge, I must have revenge······.”

The Grand Preceptor began to crawl up the stairs again with his left arm and left leg.

His twisted body cried out in tearing pain, but his madness had already blocked even his senses.

The tattered robe finally left him and sprawled on the floor.

For some time now, Werner had been heading to the widest space in the main castle, the King’s bedchamber.

Because his goal from the beginning had been one.

“Ugh, ugh, my daughter, my daughter······. Revenge······.”

Elissa, the being who made him shine brighter than anyone else in the world.

The greatest pride in his life, the child who was his jewel and crown······. Because of Christa and Michael.

Those two were the beginning of all the tragedy.

“Kill······. Kill, hide, I must hide and kill······. Under the bed······.”

‘Ah, the moon of the Empire!’

‘Princess Juliet, is it possible? Can you keep this person alive?’

“Ah, dirty, so dirty······.”

He climbed the stairs, dripping yellow foam.

He had clearly killed the prince with his own hands, but he was so disgusted and grotesque that tears were about to fall.

A little bit of leaked bodily fluid flowed down his sagging cheeks and neck wrinkles.

His sister’s Sneider family, the Venetian royal castle, and perhaps the entire country were all over.

Then now, all that remains is revenge. When he thinks about it, he should have targeted her from the beginning. From the very beginning, from the very start······.

“Christa, keoheok!”

‘Whack!’ With a terrible feeling of his neck being bent backward, his upper body was forcibly lifted.

It felt as if the firmly grasped hair would be pulled out whole.

Werner rolled his black, rotting eyes and looked up at his opponent.

A miserable gaze intertwined with his.

“······Your Majesty······.”

“······I will kill you here.”

It was Christa Venetian.