My Dad Is a Popular Villain in a Comic Book - Chapter 15

The trepidation on Albin’s face was dispelled, gradually giving way to a joyful smile. He had actually been worried earlier that if his father discovered he was missing, he might have simply left. It’s great that he is still looking for me! Just thinking about that filled him with a sense of peace. It felt as though no matter how far away he went, his family would come find him; he wouldn’t be abandoned. That sense of security was beyond compare for him.

“Thank you, Uncle, for bringing this good news.” Even though Albin vaguely felt that something was “off” about this guard, he chose to ignore it for the moment. He didn’t want to question the situation.

Believing he had gained the boy’s trust, the guard reached out a hand. “I’ll take you out of here.”

Albin shook his head, took a step toward the pool of blood-wine, and declined the offer. “I have something I need to do right now. Knowing this news is enough.”

He gazed at the pool of blood-wine, which was so red it looked black, and took off the new clothes Zeman had bought for him. The Lythrum Kingdom was located in the cold north, and it was extremely chilly here in the underground so cold that even wearing winter clothes made one shiver yet he still took off the bright red garment, leaving only his white shirt. This strange pool would get the clothes my dad bought for me dirty.

Even with a chance to escape, he chose to give it up. If he left now, it would be equivalent to pushing Margot into the abyss. He didn’t plan on going back on his word. He hadn’t thought about saving everyone; he just wanted to do what was within his power. There were many things he didn’t like about this world he disliked the strange, twisted cults and didn’t understand the bizarre notions those people held. But those detestable things existed, and no one wanted to change them. If he also stayed silent and did nothing, he would be no different from the people who supported those weird ideas.

It was like seeing trash on the ground if the people passing by didn’t pick it up, even if they scolded the passersby, the trash would still be there, and nothing would change. He didn’t understand why the adults wouldn’t pick it up, but since he was passing by, he could completely pick it up himself and throw it in the trash bin.

That was precisely why he needed the status of the Saint. With power and status, he could do more and change the things he didn’t like. And here, right in front of him, was a perfect opportunity. He knew he might not succeed, but the worst-case scenario was simply his own death. He was someone who had already died once; he wasn’t afraid!

He raised a somewhat strained smile and said to the guard, “Uncle, hurry and go. It won’t be good if you get caught. Please help me tell my dad if I can get out, I will definitely go find him.”

Taking a deep breath, Albin turned and plunged into the blood-wine pool. I’m going to take out the trash now!

The rat controlling the guard was stunned, never imagining that the boy would jump in. Rat: …?

Inside the blood-wine pool.

Albin held his breath as he jumped into the blood-wine, but he soon lacked the strength to hold it any longer.

Pain.

Every inch of him burned with fiery pain. His entire skin felt like it was being seared by flames, and his nerve endings constantly transmitted waves of agony, like millions of needles piercing his skin. He was unable to think about anything else.

Albin had always been afraid of pain. He wanted to roll around, to wail and cry, but he couldn’t do that while submerged in the liquid. His limbs just struggled involuntarily.

Dad… Brother…

As he lost control of his body, the blood-wine surged into his nostrils and throat, bringing an intense sense of suffocation. He thought he would drown, but he didn’t.

His consciousness became chaotic and blurred, and even the pain gradually grew numb and dull. He couldn’t perceive his limbs; his body felt exceptionally heavy.

He didn’t know how long it had been before he finally hit the bottom. He lay on his side on the jagged, stone-strewn bottom of the pool, his blurred vision looking through a sea of blood-red, slowly making out the scene around him.

Piled beneath him and all around were countless skulls, ribs, and intertwined, stacked white bones. These skulls were all very small, stained by the blood-wine, their hollow eye sockets revealing endless hatred.

These were the victims of the past.

Albin, who had lived in a peaceful world in his previous life, had never seen a dead body, let alone seen so many bones all at once. His remaining consciousness was filled with fear the fear that he, too, would become the next skeleton here.

He feared death. But at the same time, he felt an endless sorrow for these bones. If it weren’t for this cult, these children should all still be alive.

Just then, numerous images flooded his brain.

[A man opening a coin purse reveals a look of greed. “So much? I can gamble a few more rounds with this. The little brat is actually worth so much…” He hurriedly puts away the purse and says fawningly to the priest of the Temple of the Wine God: “Of course, no problem! It is an honor for my child to be a candidate for the Saint. You can take this child away. It doesn’t matter if he dies; no need to send him back.” Behind the adults in conversation, a little boy witnesses this transaction.]

The scene changed to other people.

[A couple is discussing. “The child next door was chosen last year, and the Temple gave them this much!” The man points with his fingers in envy. “Their whole family moved into the city comfortably. If only they could take our Romani away this year.” “But Romani’s talent was tested last year; he didn’t meet the Temple’s requirements.” “You say… what if we bribe the priest at the town temple? I know that priest; he’s the greediest one.” The wife is uneasy: “Will that work… the child has no talent; wouldn’t it be easily exposed?” “Either way, the ones carefully selected in previous years all died anyway. If they are going to fail either way, it doesn’t matter if our youngest goes. We can get a sum of money, too. I think this will work.” Some time later, a freckled boy is dragged away in terror, his parents and the town priest wearing bright smiles.]

The images in his head kept switching.

[A bruised little girl wipes away tears and says to her younger sister: “Sister, don’t worry. I’m going to be the Saintess. That man always hits us after drinking. When I become the Saintess, I will definitely deal with him severely. You must live well; wait for me to take you away.”]

[A child who was doted on by his family is chosen. The parents try to flee with their child in the middle of the night, only to be caught by the Temple’s men and killed in front of the child.]

[A noble’s son is chosen, so he picks a child from the slums to take his place. That poor child thinks he has met kind adoptive parents, changes his name, enters the noble family to enjoy a life of luxury, and only realizes what has happened when he is dragged away, but he has no way to defend himself.]

…

These were… the memories of the candidates from the past.

Albin kept feeling their memories and pain, feeling the misfortune of countless people.

[Is it painful?]

He didn’t know if it was an auditory hallucination or something else, but he seemed to hear someone asking him. The voice seemed to come from a distant place, yet also drilled directly into his eardrums.

[Come, enjoy the pleasure.]

Albin didn’t understand what this meant, until… he discovered that he seemed to be smiling. Even though the memories in his head were full of misfortune and pain, he felt an inexplicable pleasure, the corners of his mouth tugging at his facial muscles.

Pleasure washed away that desperate pain, and his whole body felt light.

No, that’s not right…

How can I feel pleasure because of someone else’s pain!

That is too much!

That wasn’t his emotion. He resisted the emotion that was manipulating him, and soon, his emotions changed again. From pleasure to depression, from anger to hatred… his emotions were capricious, changing without cause. He knew those reactions weren’t right, but he couldn’t control himself.

He heard the inner voices of countless drinkers in his ears, the various thoughts and emotions manifested under the influence of alcohol pouring into his ears. People were reveling, people were celebrating, people were singing and dancing on the ground above.

He was beginning to lose track of what were his true emotions and his true thoughts, feeling as if he were being swallowed whole. Albin thought of Latu. Did Latu also go through this? Is that the state after being consumed? Will I also become a helper of the evildoers like that?

No, don’t!

I don’t want to become like that!

If he would become like that in the future, he would rather…

Albin’s remaining consciousness whispered the only magic Edward had taught him a protection spell that was supposed to be used to shelter young mages. He didn’t even know if it would be useful at this moment.

Merciful God of Love and Fate, Lafu, please help me, grant me release…

“Miraculum.”

Outside the prayer hall.

The entire underground palace looked as if it had been devastated by an earthquake. The complex, exquisite palace was now in ruins, and the priests and berserkers of the Temple of the Wine God had all met their demise here. Even the High Priest, who was always careless, arrogant, and evil, was seriously injured. Blood flowed like the wine behind him, winding its way along the cracks in the bricks.

He looked up at the monster in front of him.

That face he had seen a few times was now cold as frost, a pair of blood-red star-pupil eyes deep and ferocious. The person once favored by light and flames now had demonic wings on his back, terrifying demonic energy constantly overflowing from his body; he had already fallen into becoming a demon.

However, in front of this demon, the entire Temple’s priests and berserkers were powerless to fight.

Latu thought at an inopportune moment, Was the Demon King of the Abyss back then also like me now, unable to stop this man, only able to watch as he crushed everything and stepped forward?

“Hahaha, the dignified Saint of the Temple of the Sun has actually turned into a demon.” He could imagine how the entire continent would boil if this matter were made public. “I only heard that the old Pope died and you went missing. Could it be that you killed your adoptive father?” He speculated with malice. “But you have already turned into a demon, so naturally, there is nothing you wouldn’t do.”

“What does it feel like to kill your adoptive father? What does it feel like to usurp the throne? What does it feel like to toy with humanity, watching as humans worship you as the ultimate weapon?”

Zeman finished off the last berserker beside him and glanced at Latu. Black thorns of briar struck him like a torrential rain, mercilessly, while he asked:

“Where is that child?”

The location of the altar was not marked on the blueprint of the underground palace.

“Cough, cough it’s too late. Why not cough… start regretting now?”

Latu laughed and choked up a mouthful of blood. His lungs had been pierced, his breathing was rapid, yet he still controlled the wine pools on both sides to stretch out countless wine whips, like a spider spinning silk, tightly wrapping around Zeman. As a priest of the Wine God, he could control the wine of the world, and there was no doubt this was the home field of his home fields. But he could only struggle to drag the other person for a while.

“Then I will trample this place.”

“When did your attack style become so simple… Where is the white flame you are so proud of? White Flame User Zeman.”

He was still constantly provoking the other party, intentionally infuriating him. This was not due to any tactical consideration; when Zeman revealed his demon form in front of him, he knew he wouldn’t live past today. But he, who had always lived a dissolute life, saw at a glance that Zeman was suppressing something.

That self-restrained appearance made him want to break the other’s shackles. He didn’t care what Zeman was repressing, nor did he care what would happen after the shackles were released. Even if the world were destroyed, it wouldn’t matter. He was just enjoying his final pleasure.

However, none of those words really irritated Zeman, and the wine whips were all cut off.

Latu changed his train of thought and mocked: “Does that child know that you are actually a monster? Hahaha, when Albin knows the truth, he will definitely leave you!”

He was jealous again. Why is it that even a monster like Zeman can have a child like that? Why is it that I, the only one with a monster’s heart, have never met one?

Zeman’s pupils shrank suddenly. In this instant, Latu used the alcohol-infused blood hidden in the cracks in the ground to launch a final attack on Zeman.

It was of no use.

The powerful demonic energy that suddenly erupted from Zeman’s body instantly severed his four limbs, sliced his body in half at the waist, and then decapitated Latu, even shattering the massive statue of the Wine God behind Latu.

At the moment his head flew off, Latu saw a phantom of a demonic dragon on Zeman that was hard to suppress any longer. His head hit the ground, the corners of his mouth raised in a joyful and satisfied arc, lifeless.

At this very moment, the underground palace experienced an earthquake. Blinding white light erupted from behind the shattered statue. Zeman thoroughly pulverized this wall, and a flood of blood-wine rushed towards him.

Avoiding these liquids that radiated a strange aura, Zeman saw that in the space behind the wall, a massive golden goblet that retained divine power was broken. Blood-wine poured out of it, revealing the many bones inside. A strange weapon that had broken the golden cup was also imbued with divine power.

And a bloody little boy sitting on the pile of bones.

That was the son he was looking for.

His heart throbbed violently. Zeman disregarded everything, withdrew all his demonic energy, and stepped through the bubbling blood-wine to stand in front of the boy.

The boy hung his head, his expression dazed. He had just escaped from the vast, ocean-like sea of emotions that felt like book pages, and for a moment, he couldn’t even remember his own affairs. Who am I again?

Confused memory fragments slid past his eyes, and names appeared in his mind.

Lafie? Romani? Onaya?

…

“Albin.”

The boy raised his head and looked at the white-haired man walking toward him. At that moment, a violent emotion suddenly welled up from the bottom of his heart. It was his own emotion.

“Dad…” Albin sobbed, opened his arms to hug him, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. “Wuu, wuu, I’m so scared…”