Russell: Kid, You Think You're Fit to Be a Witch King? (Continued)

"Your Majesty, what exactly are you trying to do...?"

The scene shifted.

Amid the wreckage of the Golden Law Guards and Gaul Imperial Guards, the lich coughed up blood and looked at his monarch with difficulty.

"I want this world to no longer have conflict. Or rather, I merely want conflict to become less severe."

The monarch smiled, and even his eyes seemed to brighten.

He longed for peace?

So he was going to begin a massacre?

"Why?!!!"

"Other than possessing similar levels of intelligence, Terra's various races are unimaginably distant from one another in terms of bloodline."

"Because of their innate differences, there is almost no set of laws in this world that can apply to every race."

"In a world like this, it is impossible to establish a broad sense of shared destiny."

"If Terra is to be stabilized, everyone must first be placed on the same starting line."

His voice was so sincere, like that of an innocent child.

Yet the meaning behind those words sent chills down one's spine.

Merely for the possibility of a decent ethnic foundation in the future.

He would commit genocide against every race, even his own people.

This was the Demon King.

Why had such a terrifying tyrant been born upon this land?

Chalk trembled uncontrollably.

But were tyrants the only disasters upon this land?

The scene on the screen became the northern lands.

Upon land covered in black snow.

The heavily armored Wendigoes wielded halberds and marched without rest, fighting twisted monstrosities. When their comrades died, they devoured the corpses, carrying on their will and strength as they continued the slaughter.

The robed War Warlocks endlessly bombarded everything in their sight. Once their bodies were stained black, they destroyed themselves as well.

The Cyclops and Sami priests sang together, granting