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[Villain] Chapter 18: Reflections of a Silver Dagger
🕑 Added 2025-03-31 03:02:24 +0000 UTC“I swear January is the worst month of the year,” Fay muttered under the cloak. Her hands, red from the cold, emerged from her deep pockets and tugged the large hood down tighter over her eyes, trying to get any respite from the rain.
She was quickly ushered through the nobles’ gate and into the city. The royal palace could be seen in the distance at the center of the city, looming over the skyline.
Fay looked around at the almost deserted street, except for the occasional person hiding under the hood of a cloak like herself. The road was paved with a dull gray–colored stone, but the foundations were still mud, and Fay almost slipped a few times while trying to seek shelter.
In the low lighting of the early morning, combined with the ashen clouds overhead, she was seriously struggling to see her surroundings.
On her left was a mostly gray brick building with a thatched roof, its first floor home to a fruit and vegetable stand with a rather depressed-looking rabbit girl shivering next to the stall. Fay felt bad for her, but feeling the few copper coins jingling in her pocket, she decided she was really the poor one out of the two; at least the rabbit girl had shelter.
Fay walked a little further and soon found a desolate-looking building with a wooden sign showing a beer mug and a hammer interlinking. A warm light was spilling out from under the closed doorway and also through a cloudy glass window.
“I have never been to a pub before…” Fay muttered and trudged through the mud toward the doorway. Pushing it open with a loud creak, she was greeted with a cozy but small pub. Five wooden tables were placed around the room, with a wooden bar area having three stools placed before it.
The room was completely empty. Must be closed? Fay thought and turned around to embrace the cold rain again.
“Oi, wait up, lassy!” Fay turned to see a short and plumb man waddle out from the backroom, hammer in hand and beer mug in the other. He placed the hammer to the side and climbed up behind the bar.
“Wat can I get yer lassy? Beer?” The short man had the most impressive mustache and beard that Fay had ever seen, and his way of speech was rather weird.
“Sir, are you a dwarf?” Fay asked with hesitance in her voice, ready to run if she accidentally called a short human a dwarf.
“Hahaha, lassy, yer spot on, ya are!” Fay visibly relaxed and walked over to the bar.
“I don’t really drink beer. Do you have water?” The dwarf looked very sad at being denied a drinking buddy but complied anyway. He fished out a blue-colored gem from under the bar and poured some mana into the stone; it glowed a brilliant pale blue before freshwater began pouring out into a cheap wooden mug.
“That be one copper, lass,” the dwarf said. Fay wasn’t really thirsty, but staying here for free was rude, so she reluctantly handed over a copper coin. She was now down to only five coppers.
“So…” Fay tried to start up a conversation with the talkative dwarf.
“Ah, lass, the name’s Dalondrumlir, but my friends call me Dalon.”
“Okay, Dalon, why is it so quiet in here?” Fay asked while taking a sip of the cold water.
“Oh, it be always like this, lass. I run this er little pub as a side job. Main work is smithin.”
“Smithing?”
“Yer come, I’ll show ya.” The little man whose mustache was almost larger than his head waddled down from the bar and off into the backroom. Fay followed behind him.
Inside the backroom was a huge space, easily three times bigger than the pub. There were two furnaces spewing out heat, three iron anvils were bolted to the stone floor, and the walls were covered in finished or half-completed weapons of various types and metals.
“Wow, this is quite impressive, Dalon,” Fay commented, genuinely impressed. There were enough weapons in here to build a small army.
She spent the next few minutes inspecting the various weapons while Dalon went back to work. The rhythmic beat of his hammer seemed to match the rain outside, creating a relaxing atmosphere.
In the corner on a small pedestal was an interesting-looking dagger. Fay moved closer, trying to inspect it with the light from the roaring furnace nearby. The dagger seemed to reflect the light a lot better than the dull iron swords around it.
Dalon seemed to notice her interest and walked over with his stubby little legs to explain. “That is a pure silver dagger made by my great-great-grandfather. It was used to kill a vampire over three hundred years ago and has become a family heirloom.”
“I don’t really have a use for the thing. It’s been hundreds of years since the last vampire was seen. They are likely all extinct at this point, a mere fairy tale to scare the kids. I could melt the thing down and sell its silver, but it just feels wrong, ya know? Do you wanna buy it?”
Fay picked up the silver dagger with a complicated look.
“Dalon, if you offered me this a week ago, I would have agreed…but…”
“Changed yer mind, lass?” Dalon asked, half interested in her story.
“Well, I felt trapped, controlled, despised, and used. Not treated like a person. I was ready to try and escape, but with nowhere to run to, I was scared. A coward, even. I stayed despite the torment and lack of freedom. Just enduring in silence like I always had.”
“Oh? What changed?” Dalon asked with interest now on his weathered face.
“Everything. I feel needed, wanted, and even trusted now. What was previously my greatest threat has become my closest ally, if I can even call him that. We are partners in crime now, and I quite enjoy the thrill of it all.”
“This man sounds dangerous, lass. Are you sure?” Dalon asked with visible concern on his face.
Fay faltered for a second at his expression. Nobody has ever shown any concern for my well-being before. Where were you, Dalon, my whole life? I needed a person like you…during all those dark days and nights.
“You’re a good man, Dalon, I really appreciate the sentiment, but I believe what I’m doing is right.”
Fay put the silver dagger back on its pedestal, letting out a breath and looking out the smith’s cloudy windows. The rain seemed to have ceased. She bid the dwarf goodbye and left toward the royal palace.
***
Damien groaned as he reached across to his bedside table with a lazy arm, searching for something.
“Where the fuck is my phone hiding?” he snarled and opened his eyes, revealing his long, muscular arm and long, black nails.
“Oh, yeah…” He sat up in bed and rubbed his neck where Imryll’s dagger had almost decapitated him.
“I cannot believe this bullshit. I already had enough death flags, and it was all fun and games talking about them, but actually having a near-death experience was truly eye-opening. Imyrll was never one of Damien’s death flags in the game, is this the work of the villain’s fate?”
“Darn it—this is not a game anymore. There are no second chances. I need to up my pace. Grab this world by the fucking balls, drag it down to my level, and beat the shit out of it until it bends to my will. I refuse to die such a meaningless death like I had on Earth now that I have a second chance.”
Damien floated over the pocket watch and opened it up to stare at the little mirror inside.
[Damien Nightshade]
[Noble Vampire]
Schools Of Magic:
[Psychic Magic (C+)]
Psychokinesis [C+]
Automatic Writing [F]
Telepathy [E]
Pyrokinesis [E]
[Blood Magic (D)]
Blood Contract [F] (New)
[Spatial Magic (F) (New, gained from Blood Contract)]
-None-
=Null Spells=
Mana Control [D]
===
Blood Contracts: (New)
Imryll Rosethorn:
Spatial Magic [C+]
Dagger Arts [E]
Mana Control [D]
“Right, I was so enraged yesterday I forgot all about the blood contract.” Since he had played as a character and raised his Blood magic all the way up to A rank in a previous playthrough, he knew all about blood contracts.
Blood Contract
Requirements:
The caster must be of a [Noble] variant.
The target must have a lower mental resistance than the grade of the spell.
The caster must have consumed 100 ml of blood from the target and inject a single drop of blood into the target’s body.
Effects:
If all requirements are met, a contract will be formed. The caster can manipulate the mind of the target to the extent of the skill’s grade.
All the blood slaves’ compatible skills will be unlocked at the F-grade for the caster.
Damien read over the effects and then looked at his new skills. “Spatial magic has been unlocked at the F-grade, but Imryll’s Dagger Arts are nowhere to be seen.”
[Germaphobe] Unable to learn melee skills / 100% Increased control over ranged spells.
“Hmm, I assume my [Germaphobe] trait stopped me from learning the Dagger Arts, and since I already had Mana Control at the same grade as Imryll, it didn’t change.
“In the game, Blood Contract was a rather useless skill because Hypnosis was a far more versatile Blood magic spell. Hypnosis didn’t even require physical touch to mind control the opponent; just eye contact was sufficient. But…now that skills are so hard to learn as I have to actually read and understand the books, having affinities and skills unlocked like this is very convenient.”
“When all this princess stuff blows over, I am going to seriously power level these skills. Enough messing around.”
Damien moved his massive body out of bed with a newfound passion but realized a fatal problem.
“Where the hell are my darn clothes?”
He took a moment to look around, but the location of his clothes once again eluded him.
“I’m starting to get suspicious that Fay hides my clothes on purpose… Ah well, I’m a vampire. We usually don’t wear clothes anyway. Who would even make them?”
Damien strolled out of his room with confidence, entered his study, and met the frightened but curious face of Imryll.
