The supporting character's harem is very normal-Chapter 529: Kill him!

Lathel lay on the ground, startled by Rakka's words. Although he appeared gravely injured, in truth, his energy was slowly regenerating his body.

After all, he was a Half-Vampire, and his self-healing ability was astonishing. He was waiting for his wounds to heal to launch a surprise counterattack.

But before he could act, Rakka had arrived.

'Could it be that he's already dealt with Ikarys?'

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. The system hadn't issued any notification indicating Ikarys's death.

'Perhaps he only defeated Ikarys and forced him to retreat.'

However, seeing Rakka now, Lathel couldn't help but feel that Rakka was the coolest protagonist he had ever encountered.

His charisma, demeanor, strength, potential, and talent… Rakka embodied the image of a perfect main character, leaving Lathel unable to muster jealousy.

A man wielding a wooden sword, dressed in simple, coarse clothing, yet carrying an aura as imposing as a mighty army—Rakka's presence stunned even Lathel.

The swordsman among the cloaked figures scowled, his voice sharp with anger as he demanded, "Who are you?"

Rakka glanced at the swordsman before turning his gaze to Lathel. His brows furrowed slightly, and he asked, "Are you alright?"

Lathel let out a long sigh, his voice so faint it seemed as though he could die at any moment. "Take a guess…"

Rakka frowned, his brows furrowing tightly. A terrifying killing intent flashed in his eyes, so intense that even Lumiana, sitting next to Lathel, shivered.

'How strange,' Lumiana thought to herself. 'How could an ordinary young man possess such a horrifying aura of bloodlust?'

'What has he been through? How many people has he killed to emanate such a dreadful aura?'

Rakka reached into his pouch and pulled out a small porcelain vial, barely the size of two fingers. Suddenly, a shadow darted toward him at an alarming speed.

Lumiana was startled, wanting to warn Rakka to be careful, but it was too late. The figure was so fast that all she could see was a streak of black light rushing in their direction.

Rakka remained unshaken, his wooden sword lightly sweeping upward.

Clang!

The sound of metal clashing echoed. The man wielding two daggers froze in shock as he realized his attack had been blocked.

But even more peculiar was that his daggers hadn't touched the wooden sword. The blades halted less than a centimeter from the sword like an invisible barrier surrounding it.

"You…" The man began to speak, but suddenly, he felt an overwhelming pressure radiating from Rakka.

"Ack!" He let out a pained cry, feeling as if his abdomen had just been pierced by something. His body flew backward more than ten meters, rolling several times on the ground before coming to a halt.

The three others looked toward the fallen man, startled, and quickly rushed to surround him.

The man lay on the ground, writhing in pain, his hands clutching his wounded abdomen as his eyes squeezed shut in agony.

"This is…" The woman holding a magic staff was visibly taken aback as she examined the wound.

The injury appeared as though something had pierced clean through his stomach, leaving a gaping hole that bled profusely.

The woman pulled out a medicinal pill and shoved it into his mouth, then sprinkled a strange powder over his wound.

The bleeding stopped almost instantly, and the man's face showed relief.

At the same time, Rakka took out a pill and placed it into Lathel's mouth, saying, "Stay here and rest. I'll deal with this quickly."

"Thank you," Lathel exhaled deeply, the pain dissipating as he spoke softly.

Rakka suddenly shook his head, his expression serious as he looked at Lathel. "Don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you."

"The most difficult problem that has plagued me for so many years has finally been solved. This journey… I truly owe you my gratitude."

"From now on, you are my best friend. Whatever you want, just say the word, and I will help you."

Lathel was slightly taken aback. He hadn't expected Rakka to say something like this.

However, he didn't press further. After all, Rakka was a terrifying reincarnated existence, outwardly appearing as a young man. It was only natural for him to possess knowledge and secrets that Lathel couldn't comprehend.

Lathel pondered momentarily before asking, "Can you handle the current situation?"

"What do you mean…" Rakka frowned and asked, "You want me to save the Church, don't you?"

Lathel nodded. "That's right. Is it difficult?"

"No, it's just…" Rakka glanced at Lumiana, his voice tinged with doubt. "She's not your friend. Why are you helping her?"

Lathel sighed. "If the Church is destroyed, do you think this world will remain at peace?"

Rakka frowned at his words. "You're saying…"

Lathel continued, "Those people are exceedingly greedy. Once they destroy the Church, they won't stop. They will continue to invade other places."

"Rakka, do you remember what I told you? I only want to live a peaceful life with my woman. Do you think I'll have peace if this world plunges into war?"

Hearing this, Rakka frowned, then nodded slightly. His gaze toward Lathel grew even more admiring. "Lathel, you are the only one I truly admire in this world."

Rakka's words were sincere.

Visit freewebnoveℓ.com for the best novel reading exp𝒆rience.

It must be known that he had lived for over ten thousand years, witnessing countless things in his previous life. What people called 'justice' was often nothing more than wolves in sheep's clothing.

They used the banner of 'justice' to commit heinous acts, hiding the evil deeds they had done.

But now, things were different. He realized that although Lathel was cowardly and greedy, he was genuinely a trustworthy friend.

Even a monumental act like saving the Church, for Lathel, was merely a simple matter of preserving his peaceful life.

Rakka, at that moment, didn't bother with Lumiana's expression. He nodded lightly and said, "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Then, he turned to Lumiana, his serious voice ringing out. "You, take care of him."

Lumiana instinctively nodded, and Rakka, seeing her response, left with satisfaction.

Sitting beside Lathel, Lumiana was stunned. She understood clearly what Lathel and Rakka were discussing. It was just that she found it all incredibly strange.

Those two kids discuss how to save the Church, while someone like her, the Pope, can't do a thing. How absurd is this?

Do they not fully realize how powerful their opponent is?

But… Lumiana suddenly recalled what had just happened. Rakka effortlessly defeated the man with the daggers. She hadn't even seen how Rakka made his move.

As for Lathel, though she knew his level wasn't high, at that moment earlier, she could feel the energy of a Vampire within his body.

Because the situation was so dangerous then, she didn't bring it up.

But just from that strange state alone, he had been able to stand alongside her against the four black-robed figures.

When did children become so powerful these days? Could it be… that the prophecy is true?

A new era is coming, and if the Church cannot adapt, it will fall.

Watching Rakka's departing figure, Lumiana lowered her gaze, looking at Lathel as she asked, "Was the reason you just gave… true?"

Lathel wasn't sure how to respond. Did he look like he was lying?

It should be known that the Church and the Karol Empire were like fire and water.

However, if the Church were defeated, the Karol Empire would likely be the next place to be consumed by the flames of war.

And there… he still had many people he cherished.

His foster mother, Ryne, and the maids who served him.

Lilith, Akna, Tinryss, and many others—he didn't want to lose them the way he lost Charlotte.

Lathel felt weary and didn't want to say much. He simply stared at Lumiana and said, "Take a guess."

With that, he ignored Lumiana and turned his gaze to Rakka because, at this moment, Rakka was undeniably cool.

Rakka stood holding the wooden sword, facing the four black-robed figures. Though the man with the daggers was severely injured earlier, he had now recovered somewhat and was ready to fight.

Rakka's cold eyes swept over the black-robed group, then shifted to the distance, where warships bombarded the Church with magical artillery.

At that moment, Ikarys suddenly appeared behind the black-robed figures. His shoulder was wrapped in blood-stained bandages, though it still bled profusely.

Even so, Ikarys wore a mocking and provocative grin. He looked at Rakka and shouted loudly, "You bastard! If you kneel down now and break both your arms, I'll grant you a quick death."

"Otherwise… Hahaha… I'll show you the true meaning of hell."

The four black-robed figures raised their weapons, preparing for battle. They had seen Rakka effortlessly defeat the dagger-wielding man earlier, but they didn't take it seriously.

After all, at such close range, they assumed Rakka must have used some magical artifact to gain the upper hand.

To them, Rakka was just an ordinary person whose level hadn't even reached 20. How could he possibly have defeated an elite Assassin in their group?

Ikarys glared at Rakka's silence, his anger mounting. Even though he had taken a recovery potion, his shoulder wound remained unhealed, continuously bleeding.

This only heightened Ikarys' anxiety and fear regarding Rakka's strength.

Grinding his teeth, Ikarys finally gave the order: "Kill him!"

"Hahaha…" The man wielding a sword sneered and said, "Holy Son, you needn't worry. Dealing with this kid… I alone am more than enough."