The supporting character's harem is very normal-Chapter 531: The law of this world

Rakka's voice was calm, yet it carried an overwhelming pressure, like a colossal mountain pressing down on their shoulders.

Ikarys trembled slightly, unable to believe that a boy his age could possess such terrifying strength.

Dressed in ordinary clothes, wielding nothing more than a wooden sword, yet when Ikarys looked at Rakka, he felt like he was staring at an enormous beast, a towering peak stretching into the clouds—one he could never hope to surpass.

"Kill him!" Ikarys shouted, his voice shaking. "Kill him for me! Whoever kills him will take control of the Church!"

The three others hesitated, not rushing into action, as their minds still struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

The Assassin was dead—killed in an instant, effortlessly.

What was that sword aura just now?

They didn't know, but when they saw it, they felt an indescribable sense of destruction—something they had never experienced before.

"Damn it!" Ikarys roared, his frustration evident. "Are you deaf? Kill him! Kill him now!"

The Swordsman swallowed hard, gripping his sword with trembling hands. He knew exactly how powerful the Assassin had been, and precisely because of that, he understood the horrifying reality. If the Assassin had been so easily eliminated by Rakka, then the power Rakka wielded was beyond comprehension.

The Swordsman was no fool. When Rakka appeared and effortlessly knocked his sword away, he sensed something was off.

However, he had dismissed it at the time, assuming it was either sheer luck or some kind of magical artifact that Rakka had used.

At that moment, the Shieldbearer finally spoke up, his voice heavy. "Don't just stand there. That boy is not normal. We have to work together, or else…"

Though he didn't finish his sentence, the meaning was clear.

Yes, they were afraid of Rakka now.

When facing Lumiana and Lathel earlier, they had felt no fear. But now, standing before Rakka, they were terrified.

"Kill him!" the Swordsman bellowed, his voice almost desperate. "I refuse to believe that a mere boy can defeat me!"

Whoosh!

The Swordsman had yet to finish speaking when another blade of light slashed through his body.

His body trembled slightly. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't utter a single word in the end.

His head fell, rolling several times across the ground before stopping. A fountain of fresh blood erupted from his neck, spraying across the battlefield.

His headless body took a few staggering steps forward before collapsing onto the ground.

Even in death, the Swordsman's face remained frozen in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

He could not believe that just moments ago, he had been overwhelming the Holy Pope in battle, and now—mere minutes later—he had been effortlessly slain by a mere boy.

He didn't even know that boy's name.

"AAA!!"

The female Mage screamed in terror, her body shaking uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed to the ground, her legs trembling too violently to support her weight.

The Shieldbearer was just as stunned, unable to process what had just occurred. In less than five minutes, the Assassin and the Swordsman were dead.

It was unthinkable.

Their team of four was known as the perfect battle unit—capable of taking down opponents with power levels over 100 without breaking a sweat.

And yet, here and now, two of their strongest members had been slain effortlessly by an unknown boy.

Was this a nightmare?

The Shieldbearer instinctively stepped back, fear creeping into his expression as if he were about to flee.

Ikarys, witnessing the scene, erupted in fury.

"Kill him! Right now! What the hell are you all doing?!"

"You useless fools! Kill him for me!"

"So noisy," Rakka's calm voice echoed amid Ikarys's furious curses.

Though his voice wasn't loud, it carried a terrifying weight that made Ikarys fall into sudden silence amid his mad outbursts. It was like a hand gripped his heart, squeezing tighter with every syllable.

Rakka's gaze remained fixed on Ikarys, calm but dripping with contempt. "Is this really all you've got?"

"If you've got nothing else, I can send you off to meet that girl from earlier."

Ikarys shivered, knowing full well that Rakka wasn't joking. His words were actual and worse—he had the ability to make good on them.

Ikarys took a deep breath, his teeth clenched, and his fists tightened so hard that his knuckles turned white. Internally, he cursed furiously:

'Damn it! Why won't he just die?'

'Why does he shine so much brighter than me?'

'That should be my position... I'm the one who deserves that fear and admiration in everyone's eyes!'

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Jealousy burned inside him, as painful as if his heart was bleeding. But Ikarys wasn't stupid enough to keep standing there.

He pulled out another talisman and began casting a teleportation spell.

Rakka frowned, his wooden sword lifting slowly.

Ikarys had clearly anticipated this. With a swift motion of his hand, the female mage, still collapsed and trembling on the ground, was suddenly dragged by an invisible force and flung toward Rakka.

Rakka's brow furrowed further. Just as he was about to strike, he had to withdraw his attack, quickly changing its direction.

A blade of light flashed out.

Whoosh!

The sound of the air itself being sliced rang through the battlefield as the energy from his sword enveloped the mage.

She didn't even understand what had happened—everything was too fast. Even in her final moments, confusion lingered in her gaze as her life ended in an instant.

Rakka turned toward the distance and saw that Ikarys had already vanished. He muttered to himself, "Looks like I underestimated just how ruthless he is."

Taking advantage of the chaos, the Shieldbearer tried to escape. But Rakka wasn't about to let him get away.

Another flash of sword light tore through the air.

In an instant, the Shieldbearer's body was cleaved cleanly in half.

The upper half of the body crashed onto the ground, while the lower half staggered forward a few more steps before finally collapsing. Death came instantly.

All four of them—renowned as hunters of beings above level 100—had been slain effortlessly by nothing more than a wooden sword and an unknown boy.

Lumiana stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief at the sight before her.

"Lathel… he… who is he?" Even Lumiana, the once composed and commanding figure, stuttered at Rakka's overwhelming display.

Lathel chuckled and simply said, "I don't know. But he is my friend."

Lumiana turned to look at Lathel, countless questions swirling inside her mind. But she had no idea where even to begin.

Ultimately, she only asked one thing: "Who… exactly are you two?"

Lathel met her gaze but didn't answer.

He knew that she wouldn't believe him even if he spoke the truth. And even if she did believe, there was no guarantee that she would understand.

So, instead, he chose silence—letting her imagination fill in the gaps.

BAM!

Suddenly, the watchtower trembled violently as a deafening explosion shook the air.

Lumiana was drained of all energy and swayed unsteadily, her body on the verge of collapse.

But before hitting the ground, she was pulled into a firm, warm embrace.

The scent of a strong, masculine presence enveloped her, sending a strange mix of embarrassment and exhilaration through her body.

Lathel held Lumiana tightly, his grip unwavering.

With his two wings, he shielded himself and her from the blast.

His gaze locked onto the horizon.

Ten warships had now advanced dangerously close to the Grand Cathedral.

The largest of them had just fired another energy cannon directly at the church, carving out a massive, gaping hole that pierced straight through the sacred structure.

Fortunately, the watchtower trembled under the impact but still stood strong—holding its ground after the devastating attack.

Lathel frowned as he watched the scene unfold. A suffocating pressure radiated from the warships hovering in the sky, their looming presence growing more menacing by the second.

Each vessel was equipped with a magic cannon, and now, all ten of them were aimed directly at their position, their cores charging with raw energy.

"Hahahaha…"

A burst of manic laughter echoed through the air, amplified several times over by magic.

Ikarys had reappeared, standing atop the mast of the largest warship. His face, twisted and distorted, mirrored the madness that had taken root in his very soul.

"You filthy rats!" he roared, his voice filled with venomous glee. "Then let's die together, shall we?!"

"Fire! Reduce them to ashes! Wipe them off the face of this world!"

The ten magic cannons surged with pulsating energy, their barrels glowing ominously as they prepared to unleash their devastating power upon the cathedral.

A single shot from the largest warship's cannon had already left the sacred structure on the verge of collapse. If all ten cannons were fired in unison, this place would be erased from existence.

Suddenly, Lumiana pushed Lathel aside, forcing herself to take a few unsteady steps forward.

Lathel's brows furrowed in alarm. He barked, "What do you think you're doing?"

She shook her head, pressing her lips tightly together. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"This… all of this… is my fault," she whispered. "Because I failed to see his true nature, the Church has fallen into ruin."

"If it all began with me, then let me be the one to end it."

"Are you insane?" Lathel snapped. "It doesn't matter what you do—it's pointless! You can't even stand properly! How the hell do you plan to stop them?"

Lumiana flinched at his words, a pang of sorrow tightening in her chest.

But despite the pain, she lifted her chin and said, "I can't just stand by and watch as the Church is destroyed."

At that moment, she placed a small stone in his hand, sighed, and said, "Use this. You and that young man can be teleported to safety. After that, you will—"

"Shut up!" Lathel snapped, his voice sharp and commanding, startling Lumiana. "Can you just be quiet for a moment?"

Lathel was genuinely irritated. He couldn't understand why people like her existed—people who were so eager to throw away their lives as if self-sacrifice was the only way to solve a problem.

Isn't living the better option? Why is it that some people always choose death as their answer?

Lumiana stared at him in shock. A strange light flickered in her eyes like she had just discovered something new.

"You two sure talk a lot."

Rakka's voice interrupted, breaking the awkward tension that had built between Lathel and Lumiana.

With his wooden sword in hand, Rakka stepped onto the balcony, his gaze locked on the approaching warships.

Ikarys spotted Rakka and let out a deranged, twisted laugh. "You bastard! If you kneel right now—"

Before he could finish, Rakka raised his wooden sword high.

A chill ran down Ikarys's spine, and he instinctively stumbled backward in fear.

Suddenly, the entire space around them grew heavy, as if reality had been submerged in an invisible swamp.

The sky darkened without warning. Thick storm clouds materialized, shrouding the heavens in an oppressive gloom.

Rakka stood still, allowing the cold wind to sweep through his body, his long hair billowing freely in the air.

A plain set of clothes.

A simple wooden sword.

Yet, as he stood there, his presence exuded the might of a god descending upon the world.

Even from afar, Ikarys trembled uncontrollably, his instincts screaming to flee.

Rakka slowly closed his eyes, feeling the currents of the world, sensing the very laws that governed this reality—things that only he could perceive.

Then, he opened his eyes, whispering softly,

"So… this is the law of this world."