Even a worm will turn

"You are Bathory." In such a world, Eithan blankly muttered a name even though the mic was already placed under his lips. He found it more dreadful how the words did not seem to reach the more than a hundred thousand people beneath the stage.

Red-haired and with a noble-like disposition. She was indeed Bathory Erzebeth, the Blood Countess.

She was somebody who had reigned over a county and then a country in the 1500s. Even now, the B Empire was still under her. Her feats were truly worthy of admiration.

Yet right now, Eithan could feel no whatsoever awe in his heart. His brown eyes darkened as he met her gaze, knowing her appearance here was nothing short of a disaster for him.

"You don't need to make that kind of face, boy." After a sweet peal of laughter that briefly reverberated as Bathory Erzebeth stood up, these words fell into the ears of those aware of what was happening.

The Queen of one of the western sovereignties walked slowly from the seat that she was assigned to, which