Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End[1-200]

Chapter 8: Sorry, Mages Have Been Banned

Chapter 8: Sorry, Mages Are Out

 "You must be kidding me! What I want is skeleton soldiers, so why are you giving me professional dancing skeleton pallbearers here?!"

 On the training field, a deeply frustrated black-haired boy stared agape at the skeleton pallbearers, who were dancing with the coffin while making their way over to the wooden pole, and he suddenly felt that he had been scammed.

 It's 2500 Affection Points, a hulking 2500! Did I really spend so much money just to buy this? What in the world do I need this for? For my own funeral procession?

 Roel clutched his chest, which was hurting so badly that he felt like he was having a heart attack. Then, he snapped out of it and attempted to make one final struggle.

 "Stop right there for a moment!"

 ...

 Ten minutes later.

 Roel lay down on the grass field as he stared at the blue sky and white clouds above him with the eyes of a dead fish. The six skeleton pallbearers were currently kneeled by the side of the black coffin, as if waiting to carry him out.

 After a series of trials and errors, Roel finally understood something... these skeleton pallbearers couldn't be used for battle at all!

 He could call these skeleton pallbearers out separately, but despite their lively movements with the coffin, as soon as they were 2 meters away from the coffin, they suddenly became as weak as a newborn chick. Even the tier F- Roel was able to fight them to a draw!

 One must know that Roel was a 9-year-old kid whose proficiency in magic paled in comparison to his fellow Magician Apprentices. Since each skeleton pallbearer was equivalent to Roel in terms of strength, it would mean that the total fighting prowess of the Skeleton Pallbearer Army was a pathetic 6 Roels!

 Or to put it in simpler terms, they were useless.

 While this world did operate by the adage that there was no useless occupation, there was still a significant disparity in the strengths of individuals. Based on the evaluation standards of the System, adult men without any exceptional skills were F-rank; magicians who had undergone formal militia training were E-rank; those who had managed to become knights or warriors were D-rank.

 These skeleton pallbearers were F- trash when they were more than 2 meters away from the coffin, and F+ when they were within 2 meters. This meant that even an E-rank militia could single-handedly obliterate them all!

 Roel had also taken a peek inside the coffin they were carrying, and it was empty. That being said, the coffin was made of rather good material.

 The summoned beings of the Commandment Cult's Gravediggers. Born for death, they bring joy to the living.

 Recalling how these skeleton pallbearers danced along with the coffin, a look of realization appeared on Roel's face. He finally understood what the description of the item meant.

 Commandment Cult, I'll remember you!

 Just see if I'll buy your stuff anymore! I'll be a dog if I get anything else of yours!

 Roel swore with gritted teeth before taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. While the turn of events had frustrated him, at the very least, the experiment to purchase an item from the shops was a success, and that was the most important thing for now.

 It was a pity that he had wasted 2500 Affection Points on this, but this amount was nothing much compared to how much he would earn in the future. As long as he had those two shops in the System backing him up, he was confident that a day would come where he would be able to unfurl his wings and soar to the top!