Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End Chapter 356: The Military Prowess of the Ascart Fiefdom

It was no easy feat to keep track of the kill counts when there were multiple parties simultaneously bombarding the enemy with devastating spells, not to mention that not all kills were equal.

How could one say if a person who defeated a platoon of Origin Level 4s had contributed more than someone who defeated an Origin Level 3?

In view of that, the greatest contributor of a battle was usually determined to be the one who took down the enemy general instead of the one with the highest kill count.

And that explained why Francis felt goosebumps all over his body.

He had no idea what was going on with those women, but he could sense their predatory eyes on him. He knew he had to fight back with everything he had if he wished to survive this ordeal.

Loud cracking sounds echoed from his bones.

Francis had steeled his resolve to fracture 30% of his bones as a tribute to borrow his god’s powers. The ritual resulted in a deterioration of his physical condition, but his confident smirk showed that everything was in his grasp.

The highest divinity of the Saints Convocation, the Mother Goddess, possessed powers far surpassing that of ordinary gods. Over the past few centuries, the disciples had only seen the tip of the iceberg of the Mother Goddess’ glorious power.

However, an existence as lofty as the Mother Goddess would never answer a prayer, even if the other party was an executive. Catching the Mother Goddess’ eye was the greatest honor a disciple could hope for.

The executives of the Saints Convocation were painfully aware of this issue, and it was a sore spot for them. It placed them at a disadvantage against other powers, as the absence of their god’s support spelled a gap in their top-tier power.

Of course, the Saints Convocation had their God’s Envoys too, who were both sentient and intelligent. The only problem was that they were in the habit of indiscriminately killing anyone who dared stand before them, making it impossible to garner their help.

This woe had burdened the Saints Convocation for many years, and it was only recently, with the awakening of the subordinate gods who served the Mother Goddess in the ancient era, that their circumstances finally took a turn for the better.

Francis was one of the few executives who could communicate with the Mother Goddess' subordinate god and harness a portion of the latter’s power.

Amidst loud cracking sounds, black miasma gushed out from Francis' fractured bones. It charged at his enemies like an army of specters.

Lilian’s soldiers were the first to be devoured by the black miasma. It took mere moments for them to collapse under its effects, but what was even more horrifying was how swiftly their corpses withered afterward. As if that wasn't enough, the black miasma further expanded after receiving the nourishment of blood and flesh.

Those who were charging at Francis froze in place. Even Roel’s eyes narrowed in astonishment too.

Francis was still suffering from the agonizing pain of his fractures, but he squeezed out a mocking smile.

“This is the God of Plunder Fratier’s Miasma of Specters. Only the power of another god can hope to rival its splendor. Ignorant blasphemers, repent on your folly as the miasma devours your flesh and your blood!” Francis grandly declared.

Unfortunately, his demeanor hardly reflected the grandeur of his speech. His fractures had left him no choice but to hunch, and he couldn't stop shaking from the excruciating pain. The apertures in his body where the black miasma had gushed out from had also affected his voice, leaving him sounding like an old whistling kettle.

His supposedly despairing speech only left a bizarre look on Roel’s face.

Only the power of another god can hope to rival it? Ah, it isn’t a problem then.

Roel’s tense expression relaxed, and Francis soon understood the reason behind it.

The black miasma tried to further encroach on Roel and the others, but a towering wall comprising metal shields suddenly stood in its path, keeping it at bay. At the forefront of this shield formation was a tall woman who gave off an aura of heavy firmness.

The tide of battle had started to turn.

To be fair, it was extremely rare to find a transcendent possessing the power of the gods in the Sia Continent. Even in the massive Genesis Goddess Church, only the Xeclydes and a few other special bloodlines were able to tap into the power of the gods.

It was nigh impossible to curb Francis’ long-range and omnipresent miasma, evident from how it had never failed him before. He did notice that one of the women possessed the Angel Bloodline, but he didn't deem her to be a threat in view of the huge difference in their Origin Levels. So, he paid her no heed and focused his attention on the others instead.

Unfortunately, of all people, he chose to mess with the Ascart Fiefdom.

The Strength Sect and Unyielding Sect had joined the Ascart Fiefdom under the guidance of their respective gods. To ensure that they were sufficiently competent to protect Roel, the two ancient gods had bestowed blessings upon them.

Cynthia was a rare Origin Level 3 expert in the Unyielding Cult, and her prowess had advanced by leaps and bounds over the past year thanks to Peytra’s blessing. Her heavy shield was cloaked in a dusk-yellow light that petrified any black specters that dared to approach, inducing anguished cries from them as they shattered into rock fragments.

Behind her, Rodney also began his assault. Crimson mana encased his body as his muscles started to bulge to an extreme degree. He rushed forward fearlessly and smashed his fists into the black specters, crushing them to bits. He showed that even the most primitive form of violence was terrifying if developed to an extreme degree.

Unlike the other two close-combat fighters, Wood’s fighting style was much more elegant as a spellcaster. As an honorable elder in the presence of his juniors, he resisted the urge to smash his staff into the enemy and instead began chanting. It wasn’t particularly smooth as it had been years since he last chanted any spell, but he was still able to summon a humongous skeleton arm.

What happened afterward could only be described as whack-a-mole, just a tad bit gorier.

Every time the humongous skeleton arm smashed down, a cluster of black specters would disintegrate into dust. Even the ground began trembling under his excessive show of force, almost as if they were at a construction site.

The interference of the trio who had received blessings from their respective gods undid the Miasma of Specters that Francis had summoned with great difficulty, forcing the specters to flee in a fluster.

This was a feat so incredible that it astonished the others.

When did the Ascart Fiefdom become this powerful?!

A glint flashed across Grace’s eyes as she made up her mind to report this matter to the Sorofyas. It was time for them to make a re-evaluation of the Ascart Fiefdom’s military prowess.

Bishop Philip of the Genesis Goddess Church was astonished by the sheer force, but as an honest man through and through, he didn’t think too much about it. He swiftly snapped out of his daze and rushed toward the other Origin Level 2 enemy with his staff.

Overall, those from the Genesis Goddess Church and Rosa were astonished by the prowess of the heretical army, but it was still acceptable to them. They were allies with the Ascart Fiefdom, so the growth in its military prowess wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Lilian, on the other hand, fell into deep thoughts.

Wait a moment, this feeling… Roel’s ancient gods? They can be used in such a manner too? If he could bestow this blessing on a large scale, it’s only a matter of time before the heretic soldiers under his command become a terrifying force…

Meanwhile, Francis had become completely dumbfounded.

What the hell are those three? I’ve already unleashed my ultimate move, but why am I still the one losing here?!

Knowing that he couldn’t let himself fall in defeat just like that, he quickly re-exerted his control on the remaining specters, trying to fend off the enemies as long as he could.

Last but not least, Alicia was delighted by the turn of events. Needless to say, the merits of those from the Ascart Fiefdom would be attributed to her.

“Well done, Cynthia! Lord Brother shall be mine!”

“““!”””

Alicia’s shout snapped the other three women out of their amazement, prompting them to quickly continue clearing the enemies.

Francis, as the enemy commander, received extra care as the three Origin Level 3 heretics of the Ascart Fiefdom focused specifically on him.

The other disciples of the Saints Convocation wanted to aid him, but they were already in a dire position themselves. Even Francis’ Origin Level 2 aide was getting overwhelmed by the veteran Bishop Philip.

This is bad. We’re going to lose at this rate! Charlotte thought with a deep frown.

Due to the independence war a century ago, the Rosaian soldiers mainly specialized in defensive maneuvers, such as fortress warfare and long-ranged attacks. In comparison, they were much less competent in frontal assaults, resulting in their inability to kill-steal.

What should I do? At this rate…

Watching as the gap in contribution grew larger, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly as she racked her mind to figure out a solution to rake in more contributions. It was then that a familiar cry echoed in her ears.

“What in the name of Sia! My home!!!”

The Eirbower Duke had finally returned to his mansion, only to realize that his own home had turned into a massive construction site—or perhaps calling it a demolition site might be more accurate—and he howled in agony. He clutched his heart so tightly that it looked almost as if he was suffering from a stroke.

His heart was surprisingly fragile for a man with a bear-like physique. Fortunately, before he could suffer a heart attack, he heard a haughty voice not too far away.

“Do you need money?”

“What?”

The Eirbower Duke turned his head over, only to see Charlotte Sorofya walking up to him. She pointed her finger at the disciples of the Saints Convocation and made an irresistible offer.

“100,000 gold coins. Kill them!”