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[Villain] Book 2 - Chapter 8: Watch the World Burn
🕑 Added 2025-05-08 01:52:06 +0000 UTCDamien swirled a glass of red wine while struggling to meet the eyes of the stunning elf that sat opposite. “Princess Emilia, I must offer my sincere apologies for the embarrassing lack of control I displayed during our friendly spar.”
One of Emilia’s attendants passed her a steaming cup of tea. Neither spoke for a while as Emilia enjoyed the tea’s fragrance and warmth. Eventually, she sighed. “You are one terrifying man, Damien, but it would be boorish of me to reject such a heartfelt apology. First, however, I must inquire about a matter that has bothered me as of late.”
“Please do tell.”
Emilia brushed her silver hair behind her ear and crossed her legs. “What did you do to Imryll?”
Damien took a sip of wine as he contemplated a response.
“Princess.” His eyes were cold. “I assume you do not inquire why I turned her against you, but how?”
Emilia nodded.
Damien swirled his wine glass. “It’s a trivial matter for vampires to manipulate the weak-minded. We are apex predators that are natural-born rulers. We are also terribly paranoid, and therefore, we strive for absolute control, which ironically is the thing we lack the most. Maybe that’s the root of the instinct? We watch the schemes and brutal nature of those around us, and crave order to abolish the chaos.”
Damien sipped his red wine, clearing his throat. “This leads me to the main topic. Why are you here? In fact, why is everyone coming here? Is this not the wastelands of the North? The lands abandoned by humanity?”
Emilia smirked. “You planned to keep this safe haven all to yourself? It may be crude for now, but I can see it in your eyes; you never planned to settle for so little. No, you have the eyes of a true king, someone driven mad by the concept of conquest. And quite frankly, that terrifies me. I can’t in good conscious allow the land my family has ruled for generations to succumb under your tyrannical rule.”
Damien scoffed. “Your dear brother is a necromantic dictator; he killed the head professor with a delayed curse spell.”
Emilia frowned at Damien’s comment. “Do you not see the resemblance? Of course, I would never defend my brother for the atrocities he has committed and will commit over the coming months or even years, but alas, I fear you are both similar, men born from the same mold.”
Damien nodded. “I agree, but our methods are different. While he rules over a dead city filled with mindless puppets, my allies are loyal but independent. Take Imryll for an example; she tried to stab a blade through my chest on our first meeting, yet we got along so well afterward.”
“So you enslaved her? Turned her into your mindless drone to collect information on me?”
“Incorrect,” Damien retorted. “I did not enslave her; I merely manipulated her opinion of me, that is all. Furthermore, I never got a hint of information from her, nor did she do any missions for me.”
“So why?” Emilia was baffled. “Why not kill her?”
Damien set down his glass and stood to leave. “She was merely a tasty snack, Princess, nothing more, nothing less.” He then looked over his shoulder and added, “Do enjoy your time in my humble territory.”
After Damien had left, Emilia sat for a long time.
“Emilia? Are you all right?” Beldroth asked as he took the chair opposite her. “Damien left a long time ago.”
“Vampires are terrifying,” Emilia said after a while. “I saw with my own eyes the shock and confusion on Imryll’s face when her body refused to bring harm to Damien. That man can artificially foster goodwill with his people, he could be the most brutal dictator, and everyone under his thumb would turn a blind eye, none the wiser to their altered mental state.”
Beldroth went pale. “Imryll was convinced she could kill Damien until the last second… It’s impossible to differentiate between friend and foe when they wholeheartedly believe themselves to be free.”
Emilia hummed in agreement. “Indeed, and I fear the black-haired woman that feeds him is a prime example of when a manipulated person’s undying loyalty comes to light.”
The two sat in silence with their thoughts as the tea turned cold.
Beldroth spoke with a sigh, “Disturbingly, this is a good thing.”
“Explain.”
“Well…kingdoms have fallen for many reasons, but civil war is the most common, and when you break it down, civil wars occur for two reasons.” Beldroth raised a finger. “Number one, the king dies, and his children fight for the throne. In Damien’s case, this would never occur. Not only is he immortal in an aging sense, but from our brief fight, I believe he has the capabilities to become a true immortal.”
Emilia’s eyes widened. “You mean those gods that live like hermits in the wilderness?”
Beldroth nodded. “Except, unlike those bizarre immortals, Damien would rule over an empire, which brings me to the second reason for civil wars.” He raised a second stubby finger. “Infighting amongst the nobles. Now infighting doesn’t automatically mean civil war, but you have to question why nobles fight amongst themselves in the first place.”
“A lack of a unifying force.” Emilia frowned. “But in a noble system where everyone subconsciously follows Damien’s plans or wishes the best for his empire…there is a reduced chance of fighting amongst themselves.”
“Exactly, but here comes the elephant in the room.” Beldroth leaned back. “If an immortal king on the level of a god goes mad and wishes the destruction of the world, who can stop him?”
Emilia grinned. “Nobody, so the only winning play is to stand by his side and watch the world burn.”
Beldroth smiled wearily. “A twisted but sound judgment, my princess.”
***
Damien left the princess’s temporary accommodation with a heavy heart as he walked down the stone road of Blackthorn; the sun was high overhead, providing a subtle warmth. People were out and about, some wearing peasant clothing, others strolling in full plate armor. The taverns were full of drunken knights flirting with peasant girls despite it only being midday.
The game’s plot has gone entirely off the rails, and I don’t know why. The princess is supposed to remain in the capital until the Night of Slaughter event in a year’s time. The king is yet to fall ill, and the prince’s undead army remains in the shadows, so why is she here? Was it Jannalor’s suggestion again? What is that crafty bastard up to? There are plenty of other ways to handle this… Does he wish to take the kingdom for himself?
And that is not the only questionable turn of events! I have never witnessed a playthrough where Richard Cunningdal leaves his territory! So there’s some plot afoot that I am unaware of, which is worrisome. The world is no longer a simple game; the previous events set in stone are now as fickle. Is this the work of the [Villian’s Fate]?
Damien paused his thinking and took a look around, listening to the merry chatter of his residents, the rhythmic bang of hammers on nails as wooden buildings were torn down and replaced with stone.
Two peasants sat with their legs dangling above him on a newly constructed walkway connecting two shops; the white wood matched the trees surrounding the Tarlington Fortress.
Damien walked for a while longer, enjoying the scenery. I will miss this beautiful sight when we leave for the Eldritch Valley in the far north, where the sun rarely shines through the permanent swirling mist of dense mana conjured by the many ley lines that interconnect there. Not to mention the flesh-eating plants and monstrosities birthed within the mist that lurk in the dark.. He chuckled. Hardly sightseeing material.
Damien pressed onward down the street toward the mayor’s house; construction workers surrounded the three-story building, fixing the cracked stone walls and replacing its crude stone steps.
The wooden doors swung open with a flick of his finger, and he stepped inside. The smell of fresh paint and wood assaulted his nose. He ignored it, passed through the now organized first floor, and proceeded up the stairs with purpose.
“Your Highness, a pleasure to see you again,” Richard Cunningdal stated as he walked into the conference room.
“The pleasure is all mine, Richard. Shall we continue discussions?”
“That would be most appropriate; please join me over here.” Richard directed Damien toward a stone table; his geokinesis erected a rough map of the area.
Richard then placed a palm-size golden coin inlaid with runes on the table; after he pushed some mana into the coin, a golden barrier hummed to life. “The room is now warded against long-range surveillance so you can speak freely, Your Highness.”
Damien eyed the melting coin as a consumable ward of decent quality before commenting, “With the world becoming more dangerous and uncertain, it’s merely another reason to move north as soon as possible.”
“Indeed, anywhere away from the Owl’s gaze is where we should go.”
Damien pointed toward their location on the map. “Blackthorn has its charm, but the flatlands provide inadequate protection from invaders, the bare and barren land makes sustaining a large population difficult, and the lack of magic in the air makes training a chore. Hardly fitting conditions for my empire’s capital city, but it will serve well as a border town.”
Damien then looked to the ground. Especially with Roselyn, a future A-grade Death mage as its guardian.
Richard nodded while pacing around the table. “So you wish to build a capital city in the Eldritch Valley? It will be a massive undertaking. Many have tried in the past, but the environment is very hostile to life…” Richard stopped pacing and looked at Damien. “Kassinki gave up on construction in the past as the mana-dense mist was toxic to peasants, and no Nobles were willing to camp out in such a dangerous place.”
“Do not fret, my friend.” Damien grinned. “You provide the knights, and I will provide the labor. Vampires, thralls, and blood slaves can withstand the mana-dense environment, and the endless mist will provide a blanket of darkness that will protect my vassals of the night from the sun’s wrath.”
Richard furrowed his brows. “Where will you obtain these creatures?”
Damien patted Richard’s broad shoulder with his gloved hand. “What do you say to the conquest of Staedbergh?”
“How?”
“I have plans in motion that should allow for the swift defeat of that oceanside city. Once that objective is complete, we shall have enough firepower and labor to begin our colonization of the Eldritch Valley. Only then can the construction of Sanguis’s capital city begin. But in the meantime, while we wait, we shall establish Blackthorn as Sanguis’s first foothold in this new world, a proud bastion of hope against the undead uprising!”
Richard grinned. “I always hated those pompous Oshal bastards. It’s about time they got a sword rammed up their arse.” He then held his hand out. “For Sanguis’s eternal glory.”
Damien shook it with a smile. “For Sanguis.”
Comments
WrongColor
Idk if I'm missing something but it seems really hard to follow what's happening since the last 30 chapters of the first book? I didn't nt know but there seems to be a tone of weird jumps and Damien mentions a lot of stuff that wasn't mentioned before. The time skips don't really help but there not too bad.
Jkj3000
TFTC, I feel like “dead and barren” sounds better than “bare and barren”
Owen Taylor
Yayy
