In Another World, All Milfs Will Be Mine-Chapter 134: [ - - ] - The Saint, The Sinner, and The Pardon of Blood (Part - 1)

Chapter 134: [Chapter - 134] - The Saint, The Sinner, and The Pardon of Blood (Part - 1)

The screams of the dying monsters faded into the background, replaced by the heavy, wet sounds of butchery as the Blackfang Bandits finished their work.

In the center of the town square, atop the pile of corpses that had become his throne, Leo stood still. His chest heaved with exertion, his black tunic plastered to his skin with sweat and the blood of a hundred kills.

He felt a soft, cool touch on his cheek.

Belladonna, the Bandit Queen, stood before him. She had discarded her mask, revealing her striking, pale face to the world for the first time. She reached into her bodice and pulled out a silk handkerchief—one that smelled of her perfume and the heat of her skin.

"You are a mess, My King," she murmured, her voice a low purr that only he could hear.

She reached up, wiping a smear of black goblin ichor from his jawline. Her touch wasn’t just caring; it was possessive. She traced the line of his neck, her thumb brushing against his pulse, cleaning him with the devotion of a lover and the thoroughness of a servant.

"Hold still," she whispered, leaning in close. "You have something on your lip."

Instead of using the cloth, she leaned forward and licked the corner of his mouth. Her tongue was warm and wet, tasting the copper and salt on his skin. She pulled back, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

"Better," she smirked.

Leo grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against his blood-soaked armor. "Careful, Bella. You keep looking at me like that, and I might forget there’s an audience."

"Let them watch," she challenged, grinding her hips subtly against his. "Let them see who owns the city."

Around them, the Blackfang Legion was efficient and brutal. They moved through the streets like a swarm of locusts, hunting down the stragglers.

A Grave Stalker tried to crawl into a sewer grate; a bandit with a massive hammer smashed its spine before it could escape. A Dire-Boar squealed as three archers turned it into a pincushion. The bandits weren’t fighting for survival; they were fighting for sport. They laughed, they cheered, and they looted the monster corpses with practiced speed.

But the retreat of the horde wasn’t entirely natural.

Leo looked toward the treeline near the shattered South Gate. The shadows there seemed deeper, darker than the rest of the night.

He saw movement. A flash of a blue velvet suit. A glint of a monocle.

Bane.

The Gentleman Bandit was hiding in the gloom, holding the Purple Crystal Ball he had looted from the dead necromancer. The orb pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic light.

Bane was conducting the retreat.

He waved his hand, and a pack of Rot-Wolves that had been about to flank a group of bandits suddenly stopped, turned, and ran back into the forest. He twitched a finger, and the zombies stumbled away from the civilians they were chasing.

He was herding them. Pushing the threat back just enough to make it look like a victory, but keeping the pressure on.

Then, Bane saw Leo watching him.

The Gentleman grinned from the shadows. He raised the crystal ball.

Suddenly, a lone Goblin—a tiny, shrieking wretch with a rusted knife—broke away from the retreating pack. It sprinted across the square, ignoring everyone else, heading straight for Leo.

It was a suicide run. A joke.

Leo didn’t even move his hand to his sword. He just stared at the goblin.

The goblin leaped, screeching.

CRACK.

Belladonna’s whip lashed out. It moved faster than sight. The tip caught the goblin around the neck mid-air. With a sharp jerk of her wrist, she snapped its neck. The goblin went limp and flopped onto the corpse pile at Leo’s feet.

Leo looked back at the shadows. Bane was saluting him, a mocking, two-finger gesture.

"Annoying prick," Leo muttered.

"He’s playing," Belladonna said, coiling her whip. She glared at the shadows. "Bane! Enough! Buzz off!"

Her voice carried. In the distance, Bane bowed deeply, an exaggerated pantomime of obedience, and then vanished into the trees, taking the last of the monster horde with him. The threat was gone. The city was silent, save for the crackling fires and the weeping of the survivors.

It was the perfect moment for a savior to appear.

And right on cue, the heavy doors of the Temple of Light banged open.

High Priest Remus stepped out onto the temple steps.

He looked magnificent. He had changed into his finest ceremonial robes—white silk embroidered with real gold thread that shimmered in the torchlight. He held a golden staff in one hand and a holy text in the other. He was surrounded by a halo of light cantrips he had cast on himself to look divine.

He didn’t look like the terrified old man Leo had bullied in his study. He looked like a prophet.

"PEOPLE OF AURAVALE!" Remus bellowed, his voice magically amplified to boom across the square.

He spread his arms wide, embracing the carnage.

"BEHOLD! THE DAWN OF SALVATION!"

The citizens, shell-shocked and covered in dust, looked up. They saw the High Priest glowing on the steps. They saw the monsters retreating.

"The Light has not abandoned us!" Remus cried, tears streaming down his face (Leo suspected he had used an onion). "In our darkest hour, when the walls fell and the shadows rose, the Gods sent us their champions!"

He pointed his staff directly at Leo.

"Behold the Hero!" Remus shouted. "The man who stood alone against the tide! The man who broke the siege!"

The crowd murmured. They looked at Leo, standing atop the mountain of dead monsters, covered in blood, with the beautiful, dangerous woman at his side. He looked like a god of war.

"Leo!" someone shouted.

"The Bandit Slayer!" another cried.

Remus didn’t stop there. He knew the script. He had a narrative to sell.

"But we must also speak of the darkness that festered within!" Remus’s voice turned thunderous, filled with righteous fury. "While this man bled for you, while he fought to save your children... where was your Lord?"

The crowd went silent. The question hung in the air.

"Where was Lord Caelum Dargan?" Remus demanded. "Was he on the walls? Was he leading the charge?"

"NO!" Remus roared. "He was running!"

A gasp went through the crowd.

"He abandoned you!" Remus preached, pacing the steps. "He took the treasury! He took the gold that was meant for your defense, and he fled through the rat tunnels like a coward! He left you to die!"

"He was never a true Lord," Remus spat. "He was a usurper! A fratricide! He killed his own brothers to take the seat! He poisoned the bloodline!"

Leo raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t known about the brother-killing part, but he admired Remus’s commitment to the character assassination.

"And his sins did not end there!" Remus continued, lowering his voice to a scandalous whisper that still carried to every ear in the silent square. "He defiled the sanctity of marriage! He turned away from the natural order!"

Remus pointed a shaking finger towards the Keep.

"He laid with men in the dark, ignoring his duties to his house and his people! He allowed his Steward, that boy Malcom, to rule you while he wallowed in perversion! He chose the embrace of a servant over the safety of his city!"

The crowd didn’t just buzz; they exploded.

Shock rippled through the survivors. Mothers covered their children’s ears. Men spat on the ground. The revelation tore through the image of the Lord faster than the monsters had torn through the gates.

"With a man?" a blacksmith shouted, his face twisting in disgust. "The Lord was a sword-swallower?"

"I knew it!" a washerwoman cried out. "I saw the way he looked at that Steward! Always whispering, always touching! And here I thought he was just being a father figure!"

"Father figure my ass!" a merchant yelled. "He was taking it up the—" 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"Disgusting!" another voice cut in. "No wonder the gods sent a plague! He brought this on us with his filth!"

Laughter mixed with the anger. Cruel, mocking laughter. The fear of the raid was being replaced by the thrill of a scandal. Their Lord wasn’t just a coward; he was a deviant. A joke.

Remus let the outrage simmer for a moment, basking in it. He raised his hands, silencing them again.

"I knew of this heresy!" Remus declared, his voice trembling with righteous indignation. "The Temple sees all! I was preparing to act! I had drafted the decree of excommunication this very morning! I was ready to march into that Keep and drag the sinner from his throne to face the judgment of the Light!"

He paused for dramatic effect, looking up at the smoke-filled sky.

"But the Gods... the Gods are impatient. They did not wait for my decree."

Remus’s eyes rolled back slightly, as if recalling a holy sight.

"I saw it in a vision!" he shouted. "As the monsters breached the walls, I saw the coward trying to flee! I saw him running through the secret tunnels with his lover, clutching stolen gold!"

"But the forest does not forgive!" Remus roared. "Lord Caelum Dargan has been struck down! I saw the shadows consume him! He was eaten by the very evils he allowed to fester! His reign of incompetence and perversion is over!"

"But fear not!" Remus smiled, the benevolent grandfather returning. "For where one leader fails, others rise!"

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