I’m Really Not Trying to Be Chased by the Heroine as the Villainous Playboy! – Chapter 736

Chapter 118: The Day Destiny Begins

In the darkness, the angel huddled among the flowers suddenly broke her silence, curling up with her wings trembling uncontrollably.

Her refined features twisted in pain, as if she were enduring a torturous hunger.

At the same time, Roy, lost in his dreams, felt his heartbeat race and breath scorch, revealing the same tortured expression.

His blood surged restlessly.

It felt like waiting for rain after a long drought, or the emptiness of craving something addictive.

Roy’s consciousness stirred awake from sleep.

Could it be that after savoring the nourishment of Holy Light these past few days, the bloodline of the False King was now somehow left unsatisfied?

Damn it, transitioning from luxury to frugality seems to manifest even in an extraordinary bloodline?

Cursed be it, even though I’d love to cuddle a soft little angel, it’s not like I can’t live without her, right?!

Just as Roy gritted his teeth, enduring the bone-deep, soul-crushing pain of his bloodline, his awareness started to sink deeper into the abyss.

The restless blood awakened the memories of his lineage.

Unlike the path of kingship brought by the Certificate of Kingship, the past memories emerged at the most opportune moments without any medium.

In a hazy image, a black-haired girl, accompanied by the shadow of the first Saintess, stepped into a ruined city.

“Whether it’s resisting the fate of the False King’s blood or saving the world from the Cataclysm, it all requires enough power. And to step into the higher ranks, one must possess the power of a Saint.”

“But are you sure the current Saintess is right here?”

Looking around at the scorched earth and shattered walls, Rowlin felt uneasy: “This doesn’t look like a place with any living beings.”

“Trust me. As a Saintess, I can feel her presence.”

“Keep going deeper; do you see that church? The Saintess is inside.”

The closer they got to the church, the more bodies they saw.

Clerics, nuns, and temple knights in the same robes were found facing each other, perishing by each other’s hands, sinking into pools of blood.

“You church folks really do live in harmony,” Rowlin remarked dryly as she stepped over the river of blood.

“Not everyone agrees with the Pope. Not everyone desires the Saintess,” Angela said, reluctantly closing her eyes.

“The Saintess’s descent is destined to bring turmoil to the world, and as the center of that turmoil, her fate will undoubtedly be imprisoned, hard to find peace.”

“Got it, just like my False King blood, it’s all bad luck piling up from eight lifetimes.”

Rowlin muttered, kicking open the church doors.

Her dark gaze scoured the entire church, and her expression darkened slightly.

It was clear that a fierce battle had taken place here.

Most of the church had collapsed, casting faint rays of light.

Even the statue of the goddess had been cleaved in half, devoid of any trace of the kindness and serenity of yore.

In this world, abandoned by all, only a golden-haired nun knelt, curled up in a grotesque prayer posture facing where the goddess had fallen, devoid of life.

Her status wasn’t low.

Yet the pure white robe symbolizing a high-ranking nun was now soaked in blood.

The church was filled with the corpses of other knights and priests, and one could only imagine the dire circumstances she faced in her last moments.

Mutually destructing, it was no different from defeat.

Rowlin unhappily averted her gaze, as the nun’s tragic state reminded her of herself.

“This is what you call living? Not a funny joke on the dead.”

“No, the Saintess is indeed still alive…”

Rowlin was about to ask more when she faintly sensed a tiny disturbance, almost imperceptible, as if it could vanish at any moment.

She quickly stepped forward and found that there was a life in the nun’s arms.

A baby in swaddling clothes.

Roy suddenly looked up.

Behind the nun was a priest, pierced through the chest and glaring wide-eyed.

It was clear that he had unleashed a final strike in his dying moments, attempting to obliterate the last thing he saw.

But he failed.

This nun wasn’t praying to a goddess who would bestow no blessings; she was simply protecting her child.

Nothing more.

Rowlin let out a slight sigh and carefully took the baby into her arms.

The crimson blood stained her robe but spared the infant entirely.

Her fear of death was one of the motivations that drove Rowlin through her journey of resistance.

She couldn’t fathom the emotions of someone who faced death yet wore such a serene, sacred expression.

After a long silence, Rowlin finally voiced the question Roy held concern over: “How do I use her to rise in the ranks?”

“Not yet; you have to wait until she reaches the mid-tier and undergoes the Holy Light baptism. Unless…”

Seeing Angela hesitating, Rowlin questioned, “Unless what?”

“Unless we forcibly take her soul and imprison it, which would cost her life.”

“But I won’t allow you to do that.” Angela narrowed her eyes, emitting a faint warning.

Another silence ensued.

Rowlin scrutinized the baby for a while before scoffing dismissively: “Spare me.”

“I’m not low enough to that level.”

She held the baby tightly, finally looking seriously at Angela: “Even if I’m not a good person, at least I’m still a person.”

“Compared to the beasts of your church, I’m leagues better.”

Angela finally sighed in relief, her expression softening.

Witnessing this, Roy couldn’t help but reflect.

The Saintess’s child back then was none other than Alice.

So, Rowlin was the one who saved her!

The blood of the False King and the Holy Angel seemingly held a connection; perhaps this was destiny’s whim.

But as a later observer, Roy already knew the outcome.

Regardless of the ties between the Angel and the False King, Rowlin ultimately couldn’t change her fate.

Rowlin eventually fell in the Eastern Continent.

Alice also fell into the hands of human traffickers.

Their encounter was inevitably destined for tragedy.

Just as Roy was lost in sorrow, a sudden cry startled him.

But the two parties involved were even more frantic than he was.

“What happened? Why is she suddenly crying?”

Rowlin panicked, slipping and accidentally tossing Alice aside.

Thankfully, Angela was quick on her feet, using Holy Light to solidify and safely catch her.

The first Saintess was glaring daggers: “Seriously? Is this how you care for a child?! And you’re a parent too!”

“Uh, I had a maid helping me back then, so I didn’t really learn… How about you take over?”

“I…”

Angela, holding Alice, was suddenly at a loss: “I… don’t know anything about this…”

Angela was sweating with anxiety: “Should we use Holy Light first?”

As the light shone, Alice perked up but cried even louder.

This left both ladies in a panic.

After brainstorming for a while, confirming that the girl had no injuries, wasn’t cursed, and her soul was intact, Rowlin finally slapped her forehead, realizing the truth.

“Could it be that she’s just hungry?!”

After that, both dashed to the nearest village, snatching a cow to feed Alice, finally keeping her alive.

Roy was left speechless.

With these two firecracker caregivers, it’s remarkable that Alice could grow up safe and sound.

Wait? But Rowlin was actually her mother…

Reflecting on that point sent chills down Roy’s spine.

Watching Alice being shoved under the cow, unsuccessfully spraying milk all over, Roy suddenly realized just how much this child had endured for him all these years.