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edvertisementideas > Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End > Volume N/A - CH 307
A meteor shower is falling upon Leinster.

Such a thought surfaced in everyone’s head the moment the night sky was illuminated by a blinding light. It was quite a mystical sight, celestial bodies descending upon the world with a beautiful glow, but witnesses of this event felt not awe but cold despair.

“Senior!”

Everything had happened so quickly that Roel’s surroundings were already dyed in white light by the time he sensed the danger.

A long distance away, a black-robed elder watched the meteor shower with complete nonchalance on his face.

Priestley Maxwell.

This was a name that people sang praises of in this era.

The first image that came to people’s minds upon mentioning him was a wise and gentle old man. Citizens of Brolne proclaimed him a Sage. Scholars dubbed him as the wisest speaker their country ever had. Transcendents revered him as the Magician King.

Priestley had accrued far too many merits over time for anyone to fully remember, and he shouldered the weight of humankind on his shoulders. Yet, as he watched destruction fall upon the city he had once loved and protected, all that could be seen on his face was cold solemnity.

It had been a hundred years since he had defected to the Savior after his physical functions started to fail. He weaved an elaborate scheme within these hundred years, and victory seemed to be just within reach when an unexpected figure suddenly arrived in Leinster.

The Ascarts.

This was an ancient family with a long lineage that one must never lower one’s guard before, especially when dealing with those who had awakened to their bloodline. Despite the heavy responsibilities they bore, they were also blessed with miraculous powers as well. Anything was possible once they got involved.

This was Priestley’s evaluation of them over the long years.

It was like nothing was absolute before the Ascarts, be it seemingly unbreachable level difference or established laws of the world. They were a trove of possibilities, often accomplishing things that no one thought to be possible. It had been like this since the ancient era, and Priestley didn’t think that this would be an exception.

His murky eyes watched as Leinster trembled under his attack, but the two younglings he was aiming for weren’t vaporized.

As the blinding light finally dispersed, a massive skeleton and a humongous black snake appeared around the two younglings. Half of the skeleton had melted under the meteor shower, and the black snake seemed to be on its last breath too.

Despite lacking souls, those two mana-manifested beings still managed to protect their master.

As the manifestations of the ancient gods slowly dissipated, the black-haired man spewed a mouthful of blood. Yet, the pain he suffered didn’t seem to have undermined his fighting will. If anything, it made him even more resolute.

“Glacier.”

With a murmur, he released a burst of white mist that rushed toward an old man ho

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