Chapter 27: The Count’s New Clothes! A Devil’s Shell!

Yulia's heart raced as she took a deep breath, turning her head away.

For the first time in a long while, the proud woman felt the unfamiliar urge to submit.

"Why is your face so red?"

Rod, bare-chested, stretched lazily. His body, exuding an overwhelming masculine energy, seemed like a masterpiece sculpted by the world's finest artist.

Every line of muscle carried an indescribable beauty.

Rod furrowed his brows slightly as he observed Yulia's unusual expression.

Curious, he asked, "What's going on with you?"

Yulia glanced at his exposed torso, feeling a strange, inexplicable restlessness in her heart. She fanned herself and coughed to mask her embarrassment.

"It's nothing... just feeling a little warm."

Warm? Is she alright?

Rod cast a quick look outside. The sun had just risen over the snow-covered ground.

Is there something wrong with this woman's head?

Are all fire mages this weird?

"Sign in."

Shaking his head, Rod couldn't be bothered with her any longer. He casually did his daily sign-in.

[Ding! Sign-in successful.]

[Reward received: Power of the Sloth Sin (Calamity)]

[Calamity Power: It can trigger illness in others and rapidly worsen wounds.]

"Hmm, Calamity Power..."

Rod wasn't overly excited, but he wasn't disappointed either.

The power was quite useful, after all.

In summary, minor injuries could become major ones, major ones could turn into critical conditions, and those on the verge of death? Well, this power might just push them over the edge.

It also affected diseases. A simple cold could evolve into a severe illness, or a heavy cold could morph into the flu.

In theory, even a minor sickness could become a terminal disease.

Like all his powers, whether magical or decreed, their effectiveness depended on how he used them.

Take, for instance, his Commandment Of Kindness. It only prevented people who harbored hatred towards him from harming him.

If his magic grew strong enough, the power of kindness could develop further, preventing anyone within his magical range who held hatred from causing harm to others.

In other words, within the area his magic covered, anyone filled with malice or hatred would lose all ability to inflict harm.

Everyone has something or someone they hate. The moment that feeling arose, whether through physical strength or magic, it would be sealed, rendering them harmless.

This is why Rod claimed that his Law of Kindness was an almost unbeatable defense.

The instant hostility surfaced, he was already invincible.

"The Count is about to display his new clothes in the castle."

"All the residents of the castle must gather at once."

Loud shouts came from outside the window.

A team of knights, mounted and imposing, rode through the streets, their voices booming across every corner of the castle.

"I've heard rumors about Count Hamann being overly extravagant and showy, but reality is even more absurd than the stories," Yulia sneered.

All this fuss over a new set of clothes, forcing the entire city to gather—there couldn't be anything more ridiculous.

No wonder people secretly called him "the Foolish Count."

"Don't you find something odd about this?"

"What's odd?"

Yulia frowned.

Rod leaned against the window, a small flame flickering on his fingertips, giving off an aura of rejection. There was an amused smile on his face.

"There's something about those knights... a stench I can't stand."

"A demonic stench."

A group of royal guards emanating the scent of demons? Now that was interesting.

Something serious was happening at the palace.

Rod turned, grabbing his clothes as he walked toward the door.

If the palace had been compromised, then the Count's 'new clothes' weren't going to be just a harmless parade.

"A demon?"

Yulia's eyelid twitched.

She wasn't a professional demon hunter, nor was she part of the Holy Church, so her sensitivity to demonic auras wasn't very strong.

Moreover, these guards were nothing but puppets manipulated by demonic forces, so their demonic presence was faint.

But that didn't mean she didn't grasp the gravity of the situation.

"I wonder what the Count's new clothes will look like?"

"They'll probably be lavish and beautiful. After all, the Count paid a huge price to obtain them."

"Maybe the clothes are made of pure gold, embedded with all sorts of gems."

Some were filled with anticipation, but most had a dismissive look.

It was just clothing, after all. How extravagant could it really be?

The truth was, their Count had the mindset of a child showing off his toys.

All the castle's residents gathered along the streets, waiting noisily for the Count's appearance.

Rod stood amidst the crowd, arms crossed. Despite the throngs of people pressed together, no one ventured within several meters of him.

Bathed in sunlight, his aura radiated an invisible heat, his golden eyes cold and detached.

He stood tall, like a god among men. Just one glance felt like a desecration, let alone getting closer.

"It's almost noon."

Rod glanced up at the blazing sun and muttered to himself.

His power was tied to the sun's position.

The sun was nearing its zenith, and so was he.

This was the time of day when he was at his strongest.

A time when he possessed power that could rival the gods!

Great strength often fostered arrogance, and in Rod's heart, a growing sense of invincibility stirred.

Deep down, his instinct warned him not to get too cocky.

Haven't we all seen the overly arrogant villains in stories? Too full of themselves, too reckless. That's how they end up as stepping stones for the scrappy hero.

But another part of him—one as bright and fierce as the sun—whispered a different message.

Fear nothing.

Above heaven and earth, only he reigns supreme.

Sitting upon the highest throne of the sun, the arrogant Sun King—how could he tolerate anyone standing taller than him?

"I don't want to be arrogant, but how can I not be, when I can rival the gods?"

Rod slowly stretched out his hand.

At this point, could he really avoid being cocky?

Even if he tried to downplay it, his strength wouldn't allow it.

"The Count is coming."

A shout rang out, and all eyes turned toward the road leading to the palace.

Pulled by eight mighty steeds, an extravagant carriage came into view, with the Count, dressed in splendid attire, standing on top.

The street fell eerily silent.

Everyone's gaze locked onto the Count's new clothes, their faces awestruck and mesmerized.

"Such a magnificent cloak..."

"The noble aura, accentuated with gold and gems."

"How could such perfect clothes exist in this world?"

"I'd die happy just to wear that once."

Fanatical eyes stared at the figure atop the carriage.

Each person saw something different.

Some saw piles of treasure, others saw countless beautiful women serving them, while some saw power and status.

Their deepest desires and fantasies reflected back at them.

And now, those fantasies had become their reality.

"Don't push me. I need to see it."

"That's mine. Get away, all of you."

"My jewels! Stop, you thieves!"

As the carriage passed, the once orderly crowd descended into chaos.

Fights broke out as people clashed over invisible treasures.

Blood began to spill.

Rod remained unfazed, his gaze fixed firmly on the carriage.

What luxurious clothing? Gold and jewels?

He saw none of that.

What he saw was a massive demonic shell, stitched together from thousands of pieces of skin taken from various creatures.

It stood tall, as if inflated, with tendrils of flesh stretching from it, burrowing into the bodies of the crowd.

Like the proboscis of an insect, the tendrils drained the life and souls of the humans they touched.

Count Hamann stood naked, as insignificant as an ant before the enormous demon, controlled by countless strings of blood and flesh like a mere puppet.

Blood-red threads, like a spider's web, covered the entire sky above the castle.

A massive summoning ritual was taking shape.

"Just as I thought... demonic trickery."

Rod muttered under his breath.

Beneath his feet, fiery flames ignited.

All the flesh tendrils that approached him were incinerated, leaving him unaffected by the illusions that had ensnared the others.

A small child standing next to Rod pointed at the Count and called out innocently,

"Why isn't the Count wearing any clothes?"

Silence.

A deathly silence.

Rod suddenly felt as though something horrifying had locked onto him.

The entire crowd, entranced by the demonic tendrils, turned mechanically toward him, their expressions blank.

Above, the colossal demon shell slowly lowered its head.

Its glowing red eyes fixed on Rod.

"Finally... I've found you."

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