My Dad Is a Popular Villain in a Comic Book - Chapter 16

Even though Albin had claimed earlier that he wasn’t afraid, the moment his father appeared before him, all his emotions came flooding out. The fear of being kidnapped, the fear when he learned he was to be sacrificed, the fear when facing Latu, the fear of the blood-wine pool, the fear of death… all the emotions he hadn’t been able to release at the time turned into tears now.

Buried in his father’s arms, Albin sobbed until he was breathless, crying out intermittently, “I was so scared…” The feeling of terror had been too intense; he couldn’t even properly explain the reason for his fear.

Zeman didn’t stop his crying. He simply knelt on one knee, cupping the back of Albin’s head and pulling him into his embrace, patting his back gently like he was holding a baby. His movements were not practiced, even a bit awkward, but he still tried to soothe the child in his arms.

“I am here.”

That cold yet reassuring voice sounded in his ear. Leaning against his father’s shoulder, Albin felt the terror being swept away by his father’s hand, stroke by stroke. His racing heart gradually calmed, and his sobs eventually ceased.

Breathing in the reassuring scent of his father which carried not even a hint of alcohol he looked up. His red eyes were rimmed with red from crying, tears still hanging on his lashes. With bloodstains still lingering on his clean, white face, he looked pitifully adorable.

“Dad, how did you get here? It’s so dangerous here. I already told the guard uncle that if I could get out, I would go find you.”

Zeman wiped the blood off his face. “Guard?”

“Yes, the guard uncle you sent to bring me out,” Albin nodded, cooperatively raising his face to let him wipe it.

However, sensing the unfamiliar tone in Zeman’s voice, Albin asked nervously, “Was… wasn’t he someone sent by you?”

“I did not entrust anyone with such a task,” Zeman said.

Albin was shocked, immediately recalling what teachers and parents had repeated since his kindergarten days: Never go with strangers, even if they say they know your parents bad guys love using that excuse to trick children. The kindergarten had even organized many drills, with “bad guys” using all sorts of tricks to try and kidnap them to train their vigilance. Other children were easily fooled by the cunning fake villains, but Albin had never once been taken. It wasn’t because he was smart enough to see through their excuses, but because every time he received “candy” from the fake villains, he would think to go share it with the teachers or security guards first, and thus was “saved” in time.

“What a wicked bad guy!” Albin still felt a lingering fear. “He actually used Dad to trick me! Fortunately, I didn’t go with him.”

He had almost been tricked. But then… his dad was actually looking for him, and had even come personally! Albin immediately pushed the bad guy to the back of his mind and became happy.

Zeman, however, furrowed his brows in thought. Was the person targeting this child from behind that group of monsters? He patted Albin’s head. “You saw through him. You did well.”

Albin, having been praised, looked away guiltily. In truth, he hadn’t seen through him at all. Afraid that Zeman might ask too many questions and expose the truth, Albin changed the subject: “Dad, did you run into Latu? He’s a wine-red-haired man. That guy is terrible he sacrificed so many little children. He seems like a very powerful guy; it would be bad if he found us.”

Zeman, having killed his way through, kept his expression unchanged. “They should all be attending the ritual on the surface.”

Albin sighed in relief. Looking at the surrounding skeletons and the broken golden cup, he muttered, “The test seems to have been interrupted. I don’t know if I passed or not.” Fortunately, the golden cup had been destroyed; even if he didn’t become the Saint, they shouldn’t be using such a horrible method for selection next year.

Zeman’s gaze grew stern. “What test?”

“The test to become the Saint of the Temple of the Wine God.” Albin proudly introduced his “Plan to Make the Temple of the Wine God Turn Over a New Leaf and Farm,” his eyes sparkling as he waited for praise. Although it wasn’t successful, he felt his plan was excellent.

But all he saw was Zeman’s frosty expression. He felt a little intimidated. “Dad…?”

“If you are chosen by a god to become a Saint, a ‘Saint Mark’ will appear on your body.” Albin looked down; he was covered in blood, and he couldn’t tell if a mark had appeared.

Zeman said coldly and sternly, “Do not become a Saint or a priest of any temple. Never.”

Albin had never seen him so serious and was utterly confused. “Why? Although the Temple of the Wine God is bad, as long as I become the Saint, I can change this place and save more people.” Despite his young age, from Latu’s earlier words, he could tell that the Temple’s status must be above that of the kingdom. The Saint, especially, possessed real power and could influence the country. This was clearly the fastest and simplest path.

“If you only want to develop better seeds, when we reach the Rose Kingdom, I will arrange a suitable identity for you.” Zeman’s gaze was deep. “You can join a temple according to your own preferences, but do not under any circumstances think about becoming a Saint.”

Seeing that he was avoiding the topic, Albin puffed out his cheeks. “Why not? You can’t just unreasonably deny my plan.” Albin looked completely aggrieved; he had thought his dad would praise him.

Zeman watched his stubborn and aggrieved expression, and his own face softened slightly. He realized Albin would never let this go. A child with the potential to be a Saint of the Wine God meant their affinity for water and fire was high—they would be just as sought after at the Temple of the Sea or the Temple of the Sun. Albin would inevitably come into contact with other temples in the future, and by then, he might not be by his side to stop him.

Suppressing his thoughts, Zeman calmly told him, “The so-called priests and Saints are merely shells and reserve shells that the gods use at will.”

Albin froze. Shells of the gods?

“Does that mean…” Albin processed the news, “my body will be taken by a god? Then I will die, right? Or is it like when magic is used, they just possess me occasionally?”

Zeman nodded. “It is not a simple ‘God Descent’ spell; it is an occupation that erases your consciousness.”

Albin thought of his experience in the blood-wine pool he would be swallowed by those terrifying emotions, he would become someone who wasn’t himself. And if he became a Saint, he would sooner or later turn into someone else. That hateful god who occupied his body might even use it to commit more evil deeds. No wonder priests and Saints had such high status and power; no wonder the selection of a Saint had to be decided by a god—that was the god picking their next body!

No wonder Dad wouldn’t let me be a Saint.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I misunderstood you.” He apologized obediently and asked, “Does everyone know about this?”

“No. Most priests and Saints do not know. Even if they did, they likely wouldn’t refuse to be possessed by a god.” After all, for so many years, every generation of priests and Saints had been devout believers in their main deity.

“Then how does Dad know?” Albin looked at him in confusion.

“A friend found out and told me.” Zeman lowered his eyes, his gaze holding more complex emotions.

Having learned this secret, Albin was still a bit dazed, until he sneezed. In the chilly underground palace, he was only wearing his soaked, bloodied shirt and trousers, and he was shivering from the cold. Zeman picked him up, intending to leave. Albin quickly reminded him, “Dad, I put my clothes by the altar.”

He smiled in relief. “Good thing I was smart! I knew they would get dirty, so I changed out of the new clothes beforehand.”

Zeman was puzzled. “It’s just clothes.” Could this child really be concerned about such trivial matters at such a dangerous moment?

“But those are the new clothes you bought for me! I naturally have to treasure them as much as I can. If they got blood-wine on them, they would never be clean again.” Albin’s eyes curved into crescents. That fervent sincerity passed through his smile to Zeman.

“Oh, right, we have to take this, too.” Albin, circled in Zeman’s arms, pointed to the strange weapon nearby. It was an extremely gorgeous holy spear, the shaft emitting a dazzling radiance as if condensed from the afterglow of the sun. Every inch of the space from the spearhead to the handle was covered with mythical patterns and symbols; these carvings were like an ancient religious mural.

“This is the weapon that appeared after I used magic the magic Uncle Edward taught me.” He felt guilty and didn’t dare tell Zeman why he had summoned a holy spear while using a protection spell.

Zeman took the spear and handed it to Albin. Albin looked at it carefully; the handle was inlaid with countless precious gems that shone like stars in the night sky it was almost too beautiful to be a weapon. Why would it be a spear?

“Spearmen have luck E since ancient times!” This sentence from his past life popped into his head, though it was just an internet meme. He flipped the holy spear over to check it and saw some text carved in one spot, which he pointed out to Zeman.

“The Spear of Salki.” After recognizing the ancient text, Zeman’s hand tightened.

Albin, however, remained blank. “What does that word mean?” It’s such a tongue-twister.

“It means ‘The Gods,'” Zeman explained in a deep voice. “This is the Spear of the Gods, the Spear of the Stars from mythology. It has another name: the God-Slaying Spear.”

“A long time ago, the gods had a disagreement over something. The Goddess of Love stood in opposition to the other gods, and to avoid her interference, the gods worked together to craft this God-Slaying Spear.”

Each temple focused on different aspects of mythology; there was no mention of this in the Temple of the Sun—he had just happened to see it in the Temple of Love. This was just one side of the story, and its authenticity was doubtful. There had been plenty of friction among the gods; why was this specific event not recorded by other temples?

Albin was surprised. “It can slay gods?”

“Mythology does not record whether it is true or false. But even if it were crafted as a God-Slaying Spear, according to mythology, the Goddess of Love did not die after being shot; she only fell into a coma. The location of this spear was also not recorded in mythology.”

“No wonder the magic system of the Temple of Love is different from other temples.” So their ancestors had a grudge.

Albin pondered. I guess it’s because the blood-wine wanted to consume me at that time, so the protection magic conjured up this thing. I don’t know what that blood-wine really was, but it must be related to the power of the Wine God.

“It doesn’t seem to have disappeared after I used it. Does that mean I can continue to use it?” Albin studied it excitedly. “I wonder if it’s real or if it just has one form.” The protection magic shouldn’t be that powerful to give me a real spear, right?

But a God-Slaying Spear… he thought thoughtfully.

Zeman watched the spear, his eyes moving slightly.

“Albin,” his tone grew heavy, and he suddenly exhorted, “If you see a creature with black cross-shaped star markings in its eyes in the future, use it to protect yourself. Those are all dangerous monsters that will attack humans.”