The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

The camera locked onto the figure who rushed out: Morris.

He vaulted out of the camera zone and charged toward the formation of Mechanical Armor.

The guards were slow to react. For a moment, they couldn't figure out why the Tiefling responsible for filming the event was charging out like that.

The Mechanical Armor in the parade only had its motor functions enabled. Their weapons weren't actually powered up and had no combat capability.

This was the perfect opportunity.

Morris was fast. After all, he had been a member of his school's magic dodgeball team.

He reached his target position in just over ten seconds.

The moment he pulled out the Rune Stone, he felt an unexpected sense of calm.

He'd thought he would be a nervous wreck, his hands shaking too badly to even hold the Rune Stone.

But they weren't.

Morris was calmer than he had ever been.

The nightmares had started bleeding into his waking hours, becoming hallucinations that plagued him by day. The tormented screams of the innocent had become auditory phantoms that he couldn't shake.

But in this moment, all those sounds vanished.

His world was finally silent.

His younger brother could support himself now. He was even doing better than Morris and no longer needed his care.

Morris raised the Rune Stone high.

He saw Brigadier General Douglas on the high platform, his face contorted with alarm, pointing at Morris as he barked orders to his men.

The guards on the scene took aim and began channeling their Magic.

Morris smiled, offering his final farewell.

"Liberate Augustine!"

He roared with all his might, "Liberate Augustine!"

At the same time, he activated the Rune Stone.

Purple, crack-like patterns instantly spiderwebbed across all the surrounding Mechanical Armor, a blinding light seeping from within.

The outer shells of the Mechanical Armor quickly reached their breaking point. One after another, they burst apart like clusters of fireworks, a display of bizarre yet brilliant beauty.

Morris closed his eyes, ready for the fiery blast to consume him.

Unlike what he had imagined, he felt no pain, only a sudden loss of consciousness.

...

When Morris awoke, he was in a pure white space.

'Where is this?'

'Is this the legendary afterlife?'

"O lost deceased, your soul shall be judged! We will decide whether you are reborn or subjected to eternal torment!"

A majestic voice boomed from the distance.

'So this is where souls are judged?'

"Lost soul, confess your sins. Your honesty will determine your fate."

Since that was the case, Morris began to recall all the bad things he'd ever done. He recounted every little misdeed, from cheating and fighting to being wasteful.

...until he got to: "When I was little, I thought girls' dresses were really pretty, so... so..."

Morris's voice was hesitant, as if the words were difficult to say.

"I stole a little dress from the girl next door... and, and I put it on... to dance. Maybe, maybe there's something wrong with me. I still think... I look good in women's clothes. So, sometimes... sometimes I still wear them in secret..."

As he said this, he felt something was wrong with the atmosphere.

He could faintly hear the majestic voice from before, which now sounded like it was struggling not to laugh—that choked, sputtering sound of someone trying desperately to hold it in.

And stranger still, he could feel his own body. This didn't seem like the afterlife at all. It felt more like...

'I'm in an Illusion Technique!'

'And not a very good one at that!'

"I'm not dead, am I?" he finally asked.

The majestic voice burst out laughing. The more Morris heard it, the more familiar it sounded.

"Mr. Zog?" Morris realized who was laughing.

"Nope, not me!"

"It is you! That sounds even more like Zog!"

"All right, stop teasing the poor boy," came another female voice, also familiar. It was Lady Furin. "And don't you dare say I was the one who taught you this shoddy Illusion Technique."

"So it was an Illusion Technique! I knew it!" Morris shouted, ecstatic that he wasn't dead.

However, his excitement at being alive was immediately crushed by a cruel reality.

The Illusion Technique dissipated.

Morris found that it wasn't just Zog and Furin standing before him, but a whole crowd of people.

The elders of the Mage Guild were there, as was an entire broadcast team, and a portly, sleazy-looking man in an old-fashioned formal suit.

'What's he doing? Why is he taking notes?'

Asmodis was furiously scribbling in a small notebook.

"A certain subset of Human males enjoys wearing female attire..."

Morris looked behind him and saw even more people. He even recognized some of them. In the broadcast team was a cameraman he'd met while filming *Shadow of Evil*, and he was pointing his camera right at him!

'Wait, so what's happening right now is...'

Morris's train of thought was gradually clearing up.

'Did I just confess my love for cross-dressing in front of a huge crowd that includes my boss, my teacher, industry veterans, and my colleagues?'

Morris suddenly felt dizzy.

'I would rather have been blown to bits!'