"You are destined to be defeated by me, campus tyrant!"
The little letter D figure seemed to have activated a cheat, green light rising from its feet.
In James's words, its combat power had increased so unreasonably that it contradicted the established setting.
The little letter V figure, which had been capable of sweeping aside crowds of green-clad figures, fell.
Pucey worked his mouth open and shut, his tiny lips filled with resentment. "I do not fear death. Kill me!"
"I will not." The little letter D figure was voiced by him as well. "You must repent for what you have done!"
The little letter V figure trembled as though terrified.
It curled up and begged without end.
"I would rather die than go to Azkaban!"
Its tiny hand plunged into its chest and dug out a beating heart.
It died. It was dead.
A generation's campus tyrant had ultimately died by its own hand.
From then on, the red-clad figures that had risen to power through it were like stray dogs, constantly suffering the vengeance organized by the little letter D figure.
Vincent smacked his lips, feeling that something was missing.
Such a fragmented, chaotic plot—a puppet show relying solely on special effects and action scenes—was completely unsuitable for anyone who wanted to use their brain while watching.
A bucket of popcorn,
A large cup of cola,
Those were what suited it best.
Vincent was the first to applaud.
His eyes crinkled into slits as he laughed, and he gave Pucey onstage a thumbs-up.
"Uh... are you okay?" Neville asked with concern.
"I'm fine. They'll repent."
Vincent's words were extremely chilling, making Neville unconsciously shrink his neck back.
"Y-you're joking, right?"
"Of course. It's not like I'm some campus tyrant."
Neville hugged his shoulders in fright. "T-then that's good."