I've Become the King of Villains in the Game

[Main Quest Triggered: Scarlet Ceremony!]

The first part: The owner of Amber City's "Time Amber" Gallery, the oil painting aristocrat Beckman, has planned a grand and bloody painting exhibition. He intends to use the [A-level Mysterious Object—Bone Gallery] to capture the "Circus" leader, the Shelter special envoy Roderick, and the spirituality of many other wild Transcendents, turning all the guests present into oil paintings.

This will strengthen [Bone Gallery], after which he will flee far away…

Just as he betrayed the History and Ritual Association, he acted rashly and desecrated the burial site of the Red Apple Church, stealing the remains of Archbishop Monroe that had turned into a Mysterious Object, and framing the members of the Association with ruthless and relentless schemes.

But Destiny is a loop, and Bishop Newman's self-sacrifice prematurely triggered the trap of [Bone Gallery], summoning a terrifying being...

The destruction of Amber City is but a thought away.

Head to the site of the incident and prevent all of this from happening.

Quest Reward: 50,000 Experience Points, 100 Gold Pounds, 10 points of regional renown, 10 Special Attribute Points, and 1 Blessing Point.

"The Main Quest... advanced?! Is this oil painting aristocrat, insane?"

Chen Lun's expression darkened.

The situation at the gallery has changed!

His earlier divination was wrong, either due to insufficient Sequence Level at this stage or because a higher Sequence power twisted his prediction, leading to a misjudgment.

But regardless of the situation, he had to set off immediately.

Boom!

He spread his black wings, took off on the spot, and disappeared into the sky as a dark shadow.

Outside the church courtyard.

The commotion here was too great, already attracting the attention of nearby residents, who were all running in this direction.

The five members of Polaris hid in the crowd. They just received the prompt of completing the first part of the quest and before they could rejoice, they saw Mr. Jack hurrying into the sky.

Intuition told them that perhaps things were not yet over.

"—Follow him! There's definitely something big happening!"

Polaris sent out a short message.

The group of five players pushed through the crowd and chased in the direction Chen Lun flew off.

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The Gallery.

The scene was tense like a drawn crossbow.

Seven or eight men and women in theatre costumes controlled the guests, while a man in a tailcoat was pricing each guest. Only a very few noticed that Beckman, who was standing at the entrance, suddenly made a strange move.

A easel slowly emerged from the pool of blood that appeared out of nowhere under his feet.

Beckman picked up the paintbrush with composure and began to paint, facing the direction of the guests. The man in the tailcoat sensed something and suddenly turned his head to glance at Beckman.

"Oil painting aristocrat, what are you doing?"

asked the tailcoat.

"Oh, this scene is just too inspiring,"

Beckman said with a smile, painting on his own.

The tailcoat stared at him for a few seconds, then his gaze shifted to an old man in theatre costume nearby. The old man instantly understood the leader's intention and walked toward Beckman with a bloodied dagger to see what he was up to.

Beckman seemed completely indifferent, as if he didn't care about the other party's inspection. But when the theatre costume old man came close, he suddenly froze, his pupils contracted.

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Because, to his astonishment, on the canvas was the back figure of the leader.

Beckman was painting a portrait specifically of the leader...

"Oil painting aristocrat, you...?"

The theatre costume old man began to speak, about to question.

Boom!!

Suddenly, the Great Gate was blasted open from the outside.

A black light wave shot straight in, the dark color distorting the light and drawing the eye, as if it also contained the Transcendent power of death. The light wave moved extremely fast, hitting the theatre costume old man in an instant, passing through his body.

Whizz!

The old man's face stiffened, and he stood frozen in place, looking unharmed on the outside, but in reality, he had suffered a devastating blow to the soul.

"Cough—puh!"

He spat out a mouthful of blood, falling to the ground face up.

The crowd was startled as a group of uniformed investigators burst in. Even the investigators who had been lurking among the guests quickly drew their flintlock guns and confronted the circus performers.

"The Shelter... Did you think I was unprepared for you?"

The man in the tailcoat said calmly.

Roderick and Mona slowly walked into the gallery, and the guests dared not even breathe.

"Unless you don't care about the lives of these high society figures, a mere reckless move on your part, and I will command their deaths."

The tailcoat man said.

"Oh, really?"

Roderick looked at him indifferently.

The next moment.

Beckman waved his hand, and a phantom image of a gallery appeared before him.

Whoosh whoosh...

A series of oil paintings flew past him, like a spinning lantern. The last painting stopped, and on it was a strange eye.

With a gentle tap of his brush, Beckman made the Pupil in Painting open its eyelids, revealing deep tri-chromatic pupils.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Gurgle, it swept its gaze over all the "circus" members present.

Buzz!!

Amidst the strange fluctuations, the seven or eight circus performers, as if struck by lightning, shuddered, bleeding from every orifice. Their daggers clattered to the ground, and they then clutched their left chests as they fell.

"Bewitch Heart... Eight Sequence Nine Transcendents die at the same time. This is the might of the Mid Sequence from the Constellation Faction. No wonder you could charm the wife of Earl Bradley."

The tailcoat man narrowed his eyes and calmly commented.

It was as if those who had just died were not his subordinates, but a group of strangers.

"Oil Painter, you won't like the outcome of collaborating with the Shelter against me."

"Thank you for your concern, Leader. But more than my own safety, I'm focused on painting a splendid picture of you," Beckman replied with unfading smile, lifting his brush to continue his composition.

The tailcoat man looked down at his palm, realizing that his Spirituality was slowly draining away, subtly drifting toward Beckman's painting.

"You wish to steal my power... Laughable!"

A glint of cold light flashed in his eyes.

Shadows rose from beneath his feet, enveloping him entirely, and then he disappeared like ink, fleeing away.

The next second, he emerged from the shadows behind Beckman, his fingers together, thrusting straight for his heart.

"Quiet."

Roderick extended his hand, black light flickering.

The tailcoat man's movement instantly stiffened.

Bang bang bang bang...!!

The surrounding investigators raised their flintlock guns and opened fire on him.

Thump thump, the muffled sound of the bullets hit him, but they passed into the shadows. The tailcoat man snorted coldly and retreated back into the shadows.

In everyone's field of vision, his trace was lost.

"Oil Painter, you've disrupted our plans. Even if you flee to the ends of the earth, you will still be hunted down to death..."

In the gallery, echoed the tailcoat man's voice.

Roderick slightly furrowed his brow while Mona softly said at his side:

"This 'circus' Leader is a Sequence Seven assassin from the Conspiracy Faction. He hides in the shadows, his comings and goings traceless. If he truly wishes to escape, we have no way to stop him..."

Beckman chuckled lightly.

He summoned the phantom gallery again, and a row of paintings flew by, finally stopping at that portrait of "Iron Hammer" Feray, "The Unyielding."

"He won't escape."