"Be serious." Lott steadied me, whispering softly.

"I'm... really dizzy." I steadied myself. "Um... sorry. I plead guilty to all your accusations."

Murmurs and jeers rippled through the crowd as I fell silent, staring at the judge to show I'd answered.

My quiet only amplified the chatter below. The crowd sensed something amiss where none existed. I wasn't stirring rumors—just hinting for them to speculate until lies became truth.

Truth was, I hadn't heard his speech at all. I was too dizzy.

"Do you deny your identity as the Dark Lord?"

"I don't deny it. I am this generation's Dark Lord, Merlin XIV." I nodded slightly. So what if I'm the Dark Lord? Is that something to be ashamed of?

The murmurs swelled. I faintly heard them doubting the event's truth.

Even the Archbishops exchanged hushed words. My act showed resolve but no hidden cards—they must suspect a trick.

Jun Xingsan was puzzled by the trial's smoothness. This Dark Lord usually bickered with the Hero or napped with books. Even his escapes were just palace strolls.

"Everyone, calm down." Princess Caiwen rose. Her gentle voice silenced the square, leaving only scattered whispers.

"Please continue." Caiwen sat back, leaning on her cane, her eyes filled with worry.

Worry? I'm the Dark Lord. My composure was returning, and I felt myself adjusting.

"Anything else to refute?" The Pope scanned the crowd. A few restless figures stirred weakly—no threat. Where was my leverage?

I caught a flicker of unease in the Pope's eyes. I didn't know his thoughts, but I saw that anxiety.

Having no trump card was my strength. Waiting for events was worse than creating them; creating them was worse than guiding their flow.

The Dark Lord had the Twelve Demon Commanders worldwide and the Dark Cult. But the Cult was widespread—even cultists here would be helpless under this defense. I didn't want them to act; it'd be a one-sided slaughter.

Especially these four knights. The Scepter Knight and Sword Knight were pure offense. The Coin Knight with shield and Holy Grail, and the Holy Grail Knight protected the rear—versatile, magic-and-combat knights.

Silence hung heavy.

"I have something to say." Before my words faded, two figures burst from the crowd—demons with misty bodies, huge horns, and faint crimson glows.

Three demons, radiating overwhelming energy, charged at me.

If all Twelve Demon Commanders were here, they might rescue me. But the cost was too high—the Dark Lord lineage might collapse.

Demon Generals had infinite lifespans. They had time to wait. I suddenly envied those immortals.

"Gods, be gone!" The Sacred Knight drew a longsword from nowhere, plunging it into the ground. Mighty sword energy surged in a circle, bypassing bystanders but shredding the demons into ash.

Such terrifying power. Who was this Sacred Knight?

Seeing only three demons attack, I sighed.

Three... The Dark Cult preferred waiting for the next Dark Lord over wasting strength on me. I had to rely on myself.

I steeled myself and glanced back at Princess Caiwen. She watched me, her eyes holding no hatred—only faint worry.

A strange warmth filled my heart.

Composing myself as if nothing happened, I stepped onto the platform facing a small amplification array.

"Quiet down." I suppressed my nerves, speaking calmly.

My childish voice echoed. The chaos subsided; all eyes fixed on me.

It's fine—they're just cabbages.

So many cabbages! I have trypophobia! I don't want to eat cabbages! Vegetables taste awful!

"I am the Dark Lord. My horns prove it." I straightened up to distract myself. "I resent no one—not the Church's judgment, nor this world that birthed me. They've done nothing wrong."

Dead silence. Thousands of people, barely a sound. A stray cough, quickly hushed.

I cleared my throat. "I thank the Church for their care. Even as the Dark Lord, a prisoner, they didn't mistreat me."

What was this about? Everyone must think I'd gone mad.

"The Hero... he shared his food so I wouldn't starve."

Good. Win sympathy and soften the Dark Lord's image. As a little loli, I'd gain pity. My subtle hints boosted that pitifulness—praise that criticized the Church's cruelty, making me seem easily satisfied.

Praising opponents adds credibility.

"The Church let me truly see this world. I've read many books and have words to leave." I glanced around. "This may be my last speech—not evil words. Please listen carefully."

My courage grew as the speech flowed.

I glanced at the Church side. Wu Fangzheng fumed, ready to stand, but the Pope's hand pinned his down.

This Pope sure knew how to endure.

"We Dark Lords have no parents, born of heaven and earth. We explore by instinct, only to fall into the fated war with Heroes. Dark Lords and Heroes always fight to the death. Perhaps this era ends that cycle. But I know nothing of this world; I want to understand it. Yet I have no right to coexist. So I wonder—why was I born the Dark Lord?"

"Why are people born with different statuses?"

A hint of a smile curved my lips. Your Holiness, have you heard of "all men are created equal"?