I will be crowned king

The essence of magic is evolution. Ordinary lives under the laws of nature can either actively or passively rebel against the world order and embark on the path of transcendence.

Or a perfect immortal body, or an infinitely broad spiritual horizon, or simply deny everything and create a new world that suits your own mind.

Each kind of magic is a brand new evolutionary path. The path will evolve into all kinds of strange shapes according to each person's inner desire and the surrounding environment. In theory, even if they have similar blood sources, it is impossible to give birth to two identical spellcasters. Each successful evolution is a completely new species.

Of course, even so, there are still rules to be found.

A blood mage's power is often linked to his vitality, and he is a being who may not die even if he is cut into pieces and his body is turned into meat paste; a black mage is good at playing with other people's minds, and in extreme cases can even control your body's subconscious to make you your own. Kill yourself, and once you meet the black mage's eyes, what you see is what he wants you to see, and there is almost no possibility of the situation being reversed.

The power of the conjurer is the law.

The flesh and blood body is just an external ornament, a container that breeds the laws that have not yet been fully formed, and the shell of the egg before it hatches; the unfolded laws are the true body of the caster.

It is no exaggeration to say that little Périgord is standing inside Anson Bach's body at this moment; his every move, every breath, and every look in his eyes are under all-round surveillance.

It turns out that this is Anson Bach’s real trump card?

No wonder the Judgment Knights couldn't do anything to him... Manfred probably thought at first that the only people he had to fight were Rune who didn't dare to take action, and Thalia who was restrained, but he didn't expect that one was being used by Mace Honnard. It took less than three years for a small character to grow from an ordinary person to...

...blaspheme the mage?

Faintly feeling that his breathing was beginning to become rapid and depressing, little Périgord's expression flickered between bright and dark, staring intently at Anson Bach, who was looking at him with a playful expression.

"How will it end? I think there is no need to discuss it anymore. Aren't the facts already obvious?"

Seemingly having figured out the strength gap between the two sides, Maurice Périgord, who stopped talking nonsense, forced a calm smile: "The despicable and vicious Bayonet Club secretly bribed the Old Gods to assassinate political opponents, and tried to disguise themselves as one. An accident, it’s that simple.”

"I have in my hand an autographed letter from the core members of the Bayonet Club, which involves their exchanges with the bribed gangsters and elements of the Old Gods. The evidence is conclusive; even according to the lowest punishment standard, it is more than enough to convict a false believer. Let them be burned at the stake.”

As he spoke, he took out the letter and put it on the table. He smiled and looked at Anson, who had scarlet eyes: "I wonder if the Brigadier General is satisfied with this result?"

Are you satisfied... That's really satisfying.

They were still racking their brains thinking about how to nail the War Department's accusations, completely making it impossible for them to stand up; after all, with only Crown's confession and some indirect evidence, Cole Dorian and the others couldn't go too far. Now If there is evidence, then you can kill him.

The problem was little Périgord... he surrendered too decisively.

Anson seems to have an absolute advantage now, but in fact he has revealed his trump card and has no way out; if it were him now, he might not dare to surrender so happily. After all, he had seen something he shouldn't have seen. How could he still expect to see it? Can you leave alive by giving in and compromising?

Unless, he has other trump cards.

Anson took a deep breath and exhaled thick white smoke: "Your Excellency Little Périgord, do you think I should let you leave after tonight's result?"

"Should? No... of course not. If it were me, the matter of being a blasphemous mage was discovered by a guy from the Holy See or a former traitor of the Society of Truth. If I couldn't find a way to silence it, I might not even be able to sleep peacefully."

Little Périgord was taken aback for a moment, and then he analyzed the problem matter-of-factly, as if he were considering the problem from Anson's perspective: "As you can see, I am a good person, a kind person; a person like me, I will never let others have such concerns.”

"So Your Excellency Anson Bach, you did not let go of a potentially threatening enemy with great intentions, but you had no choice but to choose to cooperate with him."

"Nothing to do?"

"Yes." Little Périgor frowned and pursed his lips tightly, looking serious. He slowly raised his right hand and made a "pop-" gesture before snapping his fingers.

At this moment, the bartender who came over with his hands behind his back suddenly regained his senses and looked at Anson sitting opposite the little Périgord in shock:

"You, when did you come in? Why don't I have any impression at all?! Why...ah...ah...they...he...I...I...ah!"

The bartender's cheeks began to twitch, but soon returned to "normal" - smiling and holding his hands behind his back, staring at little Périgord motionless.

Just like the expressions of other people in the tavern at this moment.

Looking at Anson who was motionless, Maurice Périgord, who frowned, sighed.

"Your Excellency Anson Bach, you are very powerful, really very powerful... You are obviously a conjurer, but you are very proficient in using black magic by twisting the rules. Although I don't know how you do it, I think you are a genius." Such superficial words are no longer enough to describe your level."

"But precisely because of this, what you are doing is tantamount to saying that you don't want to do anything absolutely, and you still hope to leave a leeway to the greatest extent possible; because if there is a complete rift, it will be a conflict between the Holy See and Clovis. All-out war."

"Unfortunately, I am not such a person." Little Périgord said with a sincere face: "In order to survive, even if the consequences may be serious afterwards, I don't care; if killing all the living things on Bleman Street can keep me alive If you leave, then all I can do is say sorry."

"Even if I am not as strong as you and within your domain, I can still do this - the conjurer can distort the law, but the distorted law is for everyone; you can drain the air and let me breathe And the price of drowning is that everyone in the realm will be buried with me."

"You really have the guts to say such words without concealment." Anson said coldly: "Don't you think that if I want to kill you, I need to bend the law at all? One lead bullet is enough?"

"It's completely enough." Little Périgord's mouth raised. "The premise is that you have to confirm that the one who was killed by the lead bullet is really me."

"Are you deceiving me?"

"I dare not, I am telling you seriously the consequences of doing things regardless of the cost; you must have the minimum psychological preparation when dealing with a high-level member of the Holy See who has no offline experience."

"Is this some unique quality to be proud of?"

"None of that - it's neither something to be proud of nor unique. It's just a very common trend within the Holy See."

Anson's eyes narrowed slightly, staring at the "sincere" little Périgord motionlessly.

He calculated that the opponent still had a trump card in his hand, but he didn't expect that this guy could break the pot to such an extent.

The reason why he has not taken action is because he wants to dig out the opponent's trump card; as long as little Périgord uses it, whether it is magic, blood power or some kind of prop, the "Plan Law" will take effect immediately, just like before. Just like killing the black mage who laid a trap in the corridor, he could directly use it for himself.

But just now, when the bartender regained his consciousness, Anson was shocked to find that he couldn't analyze the ability used by the other party!

No, in fact, the required information has been completely mastered. It is just because it is completely incomprehensible that it cannot advance to the next step of the "plan" - just like Anson, who has no understanding of the principles, no matter how much information he has about the difference engine. It is impossible to become an expert on difference engines by relying on the "laws of planning".

Why can't I understand the ability used by little Périgord?

Wait... Speaking of incomprehensible... "powers"... I don't seem to have a clue at all.

Could it be...

"Oh my, have you finally discovered it?" Little Périgord suddenly laughed:

"As expected of a genius who successfully advanced to the rank of Blasphemy Mage in just two years. I have kept this secret secret for a long time. The only one within the Society of Truth who knows this secret is Draco, that elusive guy."

"Well, considering the fact that you can use rules to simulate black magic, let me make a bold guess that the rules you created...are they related to 'time'?"

"As a student of Mace Honnard, you have at least two opportunities to obtain the "Great Magic Book" about black magic from Clovis Cathedral...Any existence that has come into contact with you will have the information it possesses. If it is acquired by you, there will be no escape within the domain... It is really a terrifying law."

"As long as you are given enough time, you will be an omniscient and omnipotent existence within the scope of the domain, ah... I understand." Little Périgord touched his chin, and his eyes lit up:

"No wonder you don't seem anxious at all. As long as I wait, no matter what cards and abilities I have, I will be exposed in front of you. If this meeting doesn't end, the winner will definitely be you... His Excellency Ansen Bach."

"Hehehe... It's a pity that you can be omnipotent in your own field, but you won't distort the time of the entire world; the night is slow, but the dawn will eventually come."

"If I'm not wrong, the two blood mages fighting Miss Lisa will die soon, and their magical reactions will disappear by then."

"As soon as day breaks, your domain will no longer be hidden."

Maurice Périgord laughed wildly, not at all like a monastic leader, but more like a madman.

No, he is not a lunatic. He is very rational and clear-headed, but he does things regardless of the consequences and does not go offline. His goal is simply to create chaos, pure chaos.

"You know, I actually have other choices." Anson said coldly: "I just need to think that there is no living person in the entire Brayman Street except that room, and you have no ability to threaten me."

"Yes, you are absolutely right." Little Périgord nodded seriously: "My only way to survive now is to bet on Major General Anson Bach..."

"brigadier."

"... Brigadier General, you would not do that. You would not dare to let your sister Lisa or any other landlady become the target of public criticism; nor would you inflict pain on thousands of innocent ordinary people just to get rid of a small trouble. Killer."

"I'm not saying that you can't do it or that you're not cruel enough! If you can get to this point, you will be no less cruel than a heinous murderer; but it's a pity that your time to advance is too short." Little Perry Gore picked up his pipe again:

"I have seen other blasphemous mages, and most of them have almost wiped out humanity in hundreds of years. This kind of clichéd tricks can't do anything to them; let's put it this way, if Miss Thalia is sitting now Next to you, she kills everyone on this street without even saying a word.”

"And you are still discussing 'what if' and 'maybe' with me... because subconsciously, you still regard them as your own kind. It is a normal reaction to have resistance to killing so many of your kind in one go."

"So, regarding how tonight should end, I have a new proposal." Little Périgord shrugged his shoulders and spoke again:

"I can tell you another secret about the Holy See, and at the same time allow you to use black magic to invade my consciousness and erase all memories of tonight - in exchange, let me leave alive."

"Oh. So confident?" Anson sneered: "I'm not afraid of becoming a fool directly. I don't even need to miss on purpose."

"It doesn't matter, I'm willing to take a gamble."

Little Périgord was very calm and took a drag on his pipe: "I said, as long as you live, nothing else matters - this is my only requirement and bottom line. It is no exaggeration to say that I should be the best person you have ever seen. People cherish life the most..."

"make a deal!"

Anson said coldly, "Pah!" and snapped his fingers.

The next second, the waiters, guests and bartenders in the tavern lost their smiles, turned around and returned to normal, continuing to ignore the two people.

Immediately afterwards, there was no longer a blinding night outside the window, and a touch of milky white could be seen at the end of the bright sky.

Seeing this scene, little Périgord finally showed a relaxed smile on his face, leaned forward slightly, approached Anson and whispered:

"The secret is that, in fact, the real trump card in the hands of the Holy See has never been the legacy of Saint Isaac or... just the legacy of Saint Isaac."

"I know that in the eyes of many people, the role of the Holy See has always been to purely reject the Old God Sect. At most, it is to maintain superficial order and achieve some cooperation with powerful spellcasters such as the apostles."

"But is there such a possibility? Of course I am just saying that it is possible... The apostles are all traitors who lost hope in the Holy City of Boredim of the Old Gods and voluntarily gave up and left..."

"The priests of the Ring of Order are the ones who persist until the last moment and inherit the will of the true God..."

"...gravekeeper?"