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edvertisementideas > Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End > Volume N/A - CH 297
It had been a long time since Roel Ascart experienced such sensations.

His mind was hazy as if he was inside a dream, but somehow, he was being guided somewhere by a mysterious force, reminiscent of a pilgrimage to meet a deity.

His consciousness and control of his body were dulled to the point where he felt like a spectator watching a movie in a first-person perspective. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since it buried the exhaustion he would have otherwise been burdened with from this long journey.

If there was one thing he still felt surprised by despite his dulled emotions, it would be the environment around him.

He was walking down a street.

It wasn’t a blood-colored plain or a mountain valley, but a pristine white street with a wide passageway. It didn’t look deserted despite the lack of people. Rather, it seemed to be awaiting for the triumphant return of its king.

The sunlight from above made the white street glow faintly, cloaking it in ethereal beauty. It led all the way toward a magnificent castle that towered in the center of the city.

Whatever remained of Roel’s consciousness churned into action as he tried to process the differences in the environment.

The castle had several tall towers with flags fluttering on their roofs. Its crimson carpeting was embroidered with golden flowers, giving off an air of royalty. The numerous gates that he had passed through along the way were all humongous and majestic. It was easy to imagine just how prosperous the land was through its grand architecture.

Roel had never expected that the ancient god he would be meeting this time around would actually be living in this kind of fantasy city. His previous experiences with Grandar and Peytra hadn’t shown him any hint of ancient civilizations.

He subconsciously passed through a series of long corridors before finally arriving before a towering door. His footsteps finally halted, signalling that he had reached his destination.

It was weird, but he reflexively understood where he was—the entrance to the audience room.

He was standing at the center of the palace, the place where the ancient god resided.

There was no one to report his arrival, but the heavy and opulent door of the audience room opened automatically for him, as if inviting him in.

The opening crack of the door cast a small ray of light onto Roel’s forehead that quickly enveloped him and the area around him. At the same time, a traditional and dignified melody started playing in the background. Golden dust drifted down the audience hall, transforming into flowers upon touching the ground.

At the center of the audience hall was an elevated platform where a tall throne was stationed. Sitting on this tall throne was a white-haired woman with cherry red lips. She looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, having fair and smooth skin that looked delicate yet not artificial. She was on the slimmer side, but her tight robes accentuated

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