I Will Eventually Become a Capitalist Tycoon?

Yet that smile carried a terror that made every Sarkaz instinctively shudder.

There was no room for argument at all.

He simply raised his hand and swung his whip. In but an instant, the speeding lash was already infinitely close to the old monarch's body.

The Lich Lord had almost no time to react.

Fortunately, a caster of his caliber often did not need to personally control his spells.

—Every accessory on his body possessed the ability to trigger spells.

A silver-white radiance lit up from his brooch.

The bloodlines of the Sarkaz Ten Royal Courts were almost all infused with particularly shameless witchcraft.

For liches, that was space.

That silver-white radiance.

Its effect was to place one's body in another dimension.

Leaving behind only a humanoid projection.

Put simply.

It was absolute defense. Without the ability to dispel the spell, one could never harm the person protected by the Arts—

"Bang—!!!"

The lich's body bent deeply before being violently launched away.

His body rolled and skidded across the ground, bouncing like a skipping stone. He smashed through a wall and blasted out a deep crater.

Under the utterly incomprehending gazes of the Gallic Guards, the lich monarch coughed violently, clutching his waist and abdomen with his sole remaining hand.

Wet blood seeped through his fingers, soaking through the professor's ordinary clothes.

The defensive Arts he had painstakingly studied over the years had not provided even the slightest bit of protection.

Their precision had been forcibly "distorted," turning them into a pile of trash.

Using a pile of shit to defend against the whip strike of a Demon King known as the Calamity of Civilization was obviously an utterly terrible idea.

The arm he had used to block and his waist had both been whipped into a mist of blood!!