The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness

”Four Aces?”

At the instant that gust of wind swept past, both Margarita and Anne froze for a moment.

A?

What Four Aces?

Because they usually had little contact with such vulgar gambling things, for a short time they didn’t even react to what Muen’s words meant.

Until the two of them, whose chests had still been swelling with heroic spirit just now, subconsciously looked at each other—and then their gazes dropped naturally, catching sight of the other’s...

Hm. Smaller than mine.

The same faint sense of comfort appeared in both their minds, but very soon, the smiles on their lips stiffened completely.

......

”Five seconds, huh? Sounds like he’s bragging a bit too big.”

In the depths of his dark blue eyes, the reflection of those struggling to suppress the prisoner trembled slightly. Muen couldn’t help but let out a long sigh in his heart.

He’d gotten impulsive just now and made such a bold claim.

Showing off in front of others had never been something he liked to do. If possible, he still preferred to stay as low-key as always.

Although for someone as handsome as him, ★ ★ being completely low-key was a bit difficult.

”But... keeping your word is an essential quality of an excellent Knight.”

Muen gripped his twin blades. At this moment, he could clearly feel the vivid, excited hum coming from within Elizabeth.

Battle aura and magic coursed rapidly through his limbs and bones, while at the same time, from the alchemical core on his back came the burning hum of full-power operation.

First second.

Thud.

Those who knew that time was short and were quickly trying to suppress the prisoner—all except for the not-so-bright Reta—couldn’t help their faces changing slightly.

Because for a split second, it was as if they heard from the endless void far away the faint toll of a vast, ethereal bell.

Immediately after, before their danger sense could even rise, a golden-haired figure suddenly burst into their field of view.

And with it came a sound of thunder.

A strange thunder.

As if it had been sealed in a vessel that could store sound, then played back at dozens of times slower speed—the thunder rolled on sluggishly, one peal after another, piling atop one another endlessly.

Meanwhile, another normal, low male voice rang in their ears at extremely high speed.

”Attack together. Suppress with all you’ve got.”

Second second.

Bearded Paul’s eyes lit up; he was the first to react. The short-range, brute-force strike he had been about to use—a move so crude he couldn’t even beat Margarita with it—suddenly shifted. Razor-sharp sword energy instantly coiled around the black longsword in his hand.

”Divine Intent Flow—No Heaven.”

Sword light tore through the darkness, bursting into dazzling sparks across the prisoner’s body.

Though the alchemical sword of fine quality did not pierce that impossibly tough body, under Paul’s technique refined to the point of transcendence, the prisoner’s body suddenly swayed—losing balance for an instant.

At that same moment, a howling gust nearly split their eardrums, as a long spear slammed down viciously, striking the prisoner’s shoulder.

Thunder Spear, her short hair whipping wildly in the gale, wore no expression. Her long sleeves billowed; the spear bent slightly in her seemingly slender hands, unleashing unimaginable force.

Crunch.

One of the prisoner’s knees bent sharply, unable to bear the weight.

Third second.

”Roar!”

The monstrous figure like a small mountain let out a beastlike roar. From the mechanical arm of the creature named Reta, scalding steam gushed violently out through vents.

The bone blade taller than a man seemed like a child’s toy in his hands. When the bone blade fell, everyone felt the ground itself tremble.

Crunch.

The second knee buckled suddenly, and the prisoner fell to his knees again.

Almost simultaneously, the gravity magic and shadow magic pressing on him seemed to strengthen at once.

The lanterns shook violently. The prisoner’s body suddenly seemed to weigh a thousand catties. The black shadows, like a swamp, swallowed his form; the massive suction and gravity bound him, forcing him bit by bit to bend, to crawl...

Fourth second.

”Please... forgive me...”

In the prisoner’s hollow eye sockets, flames of wrath blazed again. The foul, stinking wind surged, turning into a flapping cloak.

Countless tadpole-like golden runes trembled violently, crawling rapidly across the surface of his skeletal body.

Clink, clink.

The lanterns were slowly lifted again. Accompanied by that bone-grinding, tooth-aching sound of joints scraping, the prisoner—like a dry branch swaying in a storm—once again, tremblingly... rose.

Everyone’s hearts tightened.

”No good.”

Paul’s brows knit for once.

At this rate, it would just be a repeat of before.

This damned thing was even tougher than he’d imagined. They could suppress it in the end, yes, but the problem was time.

Time. Time. What mattered most was time... What were the others doing—just watching? And that Brian—he was clearly a martial artist, so why had he only been using magic from the start? In this situation, martial strength worked better than sorcery...

Paul’s mind raced—and then he suddenly remembered.

It was that Duke’s son who’d told them to attack together. And now... what was he doing?

......

In the next instant, thunder roared.

Fifth second.

All those peals of thunder that had been gathering, compressed, and stretched across several full seconds suddenly burst free at this very moment.

Though countless magic currents were still glowing and blazing, the surrounding space seemed to dim.

In everyone’s slightly dazed eyes, light flared.

A single... blade light.

As if the world contained nothing else but the blade’s brilliance.

Clang——

The blade sang. The blinding light of the strike, like a fallen galaxy, slashed across the prisoner’s body in an instant.

Sixty-fold Time Dilation.

Twenty Stacks.

Five seconds of charge.

One slash.

Cut.

The prisoner’s body buckled instantly. Already bearing the crushing assaults of several powerful figures, Muen’s single stroke became the final weight on the camel’s back, at last forcing him... completely down.

Exactly as the fifth second ended.

After the strike, Muen drove both blades through the prisoner’s palms and stepped on the back of his head.

The frenzied wind whipped his golden hair; in that moment, his expression was gentle.

”Liya.”

He called softly.

And then—the holy light flared.

As everyone stood stunned by the scene before them, barely able to believe it had all happened so fast, that sacred radiance had already been prepared. Without even a moment’s delay, it surged upward.

She believed in him.

Just as he believed in her.

He had said five seconds.

So, five seconds later, the light of Purification answered.

”【Purify】.”

Holy light descended upon the prisoner.

Liya pressed her palms together, praying devoutly to the Goddess.

”Ah... Goddess...”

The prisoner’s body trembled violently in pain, a hoarse scream tearing from his throat.

”Goddess... forgive me...”

”Forgive the sinner...”

”Goddess...”

He repeated the same delirious words again and again, trying to resist. But within that withered body, it was as if a faint, translucent shadow kept struggling.

As Liya had said—the soul imprisoned within was yearning for salvation.

”Goddess...”

”Goddess...”

”Goddess...”

Under the radiance of the sacred light, the shadow finally stepped out from the death-stilled body and knelt slowly before Liya.

”Thank you.”

On that face too blurred to discern, it seemed that clear tears were flowing—like release.

”Thank you... and also...”

Before vanishing, the shadow whispered in a faint, dreamlike voice:

”Be careful... nv—”

Inside Liya’s crystal, another thread of light was added.