I Am The Villainess Who Will Tame Every Yandere Heroine!-Chapter 40: Lustrous Inquisitor’s

Something was brewing outside - whether it was a grand parade, a village-wide panic, or an impromptu rebellion, Serafine couldn't quite tell. The shouts were aggressive, the sounds of stomping boots and galloping horses filling the air like an impending storm. Inside their small dwelling, the tension rose so thick it could be sliced with a dull butter knife.

"W-What's happening?" someone stammered.

And as if summoned by divine timing (or perhaps just Serafine's awful luck), Calix dramatically kicked open the door with an unnecessary amount of force. "Lady Savior!" he gasped, wild-eyed. "The village is in danger!"

Serafine pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course it is.

Rushing outside, the sight that greeted them was as ridiculous as it was infuriating. A squadron of knights, fully armored from head to toe, stood in rigid formation. But the real eyesore was the man at the front—the only one without a helmet, as if his existence alone needed to be seen and acknowledged. He was of average height, but he made up for it with sheer smugness. His dull, dead-looking eyes were framed by a messy ponytail that tried too hard to be dramatic.

And then, there was the banner.

A massive flag waved behind him, blinding in its obnoxious whiteness, featuring a golden eye with sun rays beaming from its center. It was the kind of symbol that screamed, We're totally sane and not at all cultish.

Serafine knew exactly who this was.

Harold Petrolo. Son of a rising viscount, bootlicker of the king, and all-around egomaniac. His family had always been deeply religious, but not in the normal "praise be to Aurelia" way. No, they were the unhinged type—the ones who believed the established faith was flawed and that only they could bring forth a "true" doctrine.

Harold himself was even worse. He had once declared himself as:

The Son of the Universe, The Owner of Humankind, The Destroyer of Heretics

A title list so absurd, even Serafine felt secondhand embarrassment.

"To the lost, we bring light! To the blind, we bring sight!" Harold's voice rang out as he stepped off his horse, his ponytail flowing dramatically in the wind as if it were its own sentient being.

Serafine had never wanted to punch someone more in her life.

He spread his arms wide as if addressing an adoring audience (that didn't exist). "We are the Lustrous Inquisitors! A newly-formed division of the kingdom's army. We spread faith to the godless and purge the heretics! Due to the recent surge of Stains and disasters, it is clear that the land has been forsaken due to a lack of faith!" His voice rose with righteous fervor. "Thus, those who do not kneel before us…" He paused for effect. "Will be beheaded!"

The village collectively sucked in a breath.

"Bullshit!" someone in the crowd spat. "Y-You can't be seri—"

Schlck.

His head was gone.

The moment was so swift, so absurdly unexpected that for a second, nobody reacted. Then, like a grotesque fountain, blood spurted from the stump of a neck, sending nearby villagers into full-blown panic.

Harold let out a haughty sniff, flicking the blood off his sword like it was nothing more than an inconvenience. "Godless filth have no right to speak in the presence of one of Aurelia's chosen."

He was enjoying this. Way too much.

Serafine, watching the blood pool on the ground, could only think of one thing.

If there was ever a man who could rival her own ego… it was Harold Petrolo.

And that's exactly why she hated his guts.

"Lady Savior, we have to stop him!" Clara hissed, fists clenched and trembling. Her heart pounded with madness at the sheer audacity of the man before them. Meanwhile, Mariella and Calix stood frozen in sheer horror.

Serafine, on the other hand, was preoccupied with something far more important.

A drop of blood—just one single, pitiful drop—had dared to stain her pristine clothes.

She wiped it off with an air of supreme irritation, muttering, "How dare you dirty my clothes..." completely ignoring the severed head currently resting by her feet. The sight of it didn't faze her one bit—why would it? She'd personally sent plenty of heads rolling in her saintess days. But this? This was an offense.

Harold Petrolo was ruining her fun.

And worse, he was turning the atmosphere into something serious.

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She hated that.

Meanwhile, the villagers were paralyzed, too afraid to fight back, while Harold basked in their fear like a self-important peacock. His lips curled into a smug grin. "Bow down!" he commanded, though honestly, it sounded more like he was talking to himself, hyping up his own delusions.

The people near him instantly dropped to their knees, though their hesitance was painfully obvious. Their eyes darted toward Serafine, desperate for guidance. But Harold saw only their weakness. He doubted any of them would dare oppose him.

"Good..." He prowled through the crowd like a predator savoring his dominance, then suddenly stopped in front of a woman. He grabbed her roughly, his hand striking her face without hesitation. Slap! Slap!

"A worthless godless filth!" he sneered.

The woman was a prostitute, a familiar face in the village. But the real kicker? Harold himself was an enthusiastic patron of such "filth."

Ah, the irony.

"You lowlife!" he roared, continuing to strike her as she cowered. "How dare you be the cause of the staining of this world!"

Serafine sighed dramatically. This man is really out here committing war crimes before breakfast.

The worst part? Killing him outright wasn't an option. If he died, his father—an influential viscount—would rain hellfire upon this village. That level of attention would be... inconvenient.

Harold smirked, completely unaware of the divine punishment his existence was begging for. "So tell me—who dares to fight me? None of you can!"

To make his point, he summoned his Ethos—a gleaming weapon made of light—before hurling it into the distance. It exploded upon impact, sending debris flying and knocking down some unfortunate villagers.

Serafine lazily observed the destruction, then flexed her fingers thoughtfully.

As far as she remembered… she still hadn't assigned her Ruination Points to her stats yet.

Perhaps…

She should make this entertaining.