I Will Fulfill the Role of the Villain

Chapter 71

The black attack was about to reach Luke, but he seemed unfazed, his crimson-glowing eyes never wavering. The magical flow had been completely disrupted by the enemy's recent assault. It was likely due to the unexpected injuries and the impure mana that had invaded his body.

Moreover, with one arm rendered entirely useless, trying to land an ineffective attack would be pointless. Grabbing the enemy's neck and ending it swiftly was a far more efficient approach. This was the conclusion Luke reached as sharp pillars stabbed through his shoulder, abdomen, and side. What was this called again?

Ah, right.

Offering one's own flesh to ensure the enemy's bones are broken.

Ironically, despite the brutal battle, Luke's mind had never been clearer. Monsters, smugglers, necromancers—none of it mattered. At this moment, all that fueled him was the burning desire to capture his opponent.

But the enemy was no different. While Luke was consumed by the resolve to seize him, the necromancer was equally determined to escape. With a guttural scream, the necromancer stomped the ground, causing it to ripple beneath Luke's feet. Moments later, a thick pillar surged upward.

Like before, the pillar's end bore the head of a beast, lunging forward to sink its teeth into Luke's neck just as his hand nearly closed around the necromancer's throat.

"Tsk," Luke clicked his tongue, but at that moment, an intense heat surged from a distance. It was a fire utterly unfitting for the frigid air that had permeated this battlefield.

The flames advanced rapidly, cutting between Luke and the necromancer. The necromancer's frantically unleashed attacks were reduced to cinders, crackling like dry twigs in a campfire.

As Luke pulled back to avoid the flames, he lost his balance and fell. The necromancer fared no better.

Luke recognized this fire. Unlike the familiar red of ordinary flames, this one burned an eerie blue.

From a distance, it resembled not fire but a cold, shimmering frost. Yet, the blue flames consumed everything in their path—not only the necromancer’s attacks but also the scattered remains of the shattered golems from their battle.

"Luke!"

Mages who wielded fire magic were common. But a mage capable of summoning blue flames, with heat and intensity far surpassing the ordinary red, was someone Luke knew all too well.

"Hey, are you trying to burn everything down?" he muttered under his breath, catching the sound of approaching footsteps in the distance.

"You..."

Theo, who had drawn closer to Luke, hesitated. From afar, the dust stirred up by their fight had obscured Luke’s condition, but now it was unmistakable.

"For someone who talks a big game, you’re in shambles. Care to explain why?"

Luke managed a crooked grin, the fresh gashes on his pale face standing out starkly. His shoulder had been pierced clean through, blood streaming down in rivulets. His entire body was battered and bloodied, with signs of attacks evident everywhere.

But what stood out the most was his right arm. It was mangled beyond recognition, darkened and riddled with holes as if a beast had ripped the flesh away.

Theo's eyes, which took in all of this, turned ice-cold.

The two had known each other since their days as cadets. Their shared history was not short by any means.

The Empire's Military Academy was as renowned as the three great academies, known for its nearly insurmountable entry requirements. The Empire’s military was the pride and strength of the nation, a symbol of its power.

This reputation was well-deserved. The Academy’s training was grueling, and though rare, deaths during training were not unheard of each year. Even after surviving the Academy, entering the military meant facing even harsher realities—what many would call hell itself.

Fighting monsters and waging wars against nations coveting the Empire’s strength left no room for weakness. In the war-filled past, merely returning alive was considered a reward in itself—a grim jest that had persisted.

"I said to go after that guy first."

"He’s already unconscious, and my flames are everywhere. He’s not going anywhere."

The necromancer, caught in Theo’s attack, had collapsed and seemed to have lost consciousness. The flames that still lingered around him ensured he wouldn’t escape. Trying to break through those flames would cost him at least a limb.

"And Bruce?"

"I dispelled the barrier. He’s outside the cave, in a safe place."

Just as Luke had suspected, the intense focus required for battle had disrupted the barrier, allowing it to be undone relatively easily. Theo had judged that Bruce couldn’t survive much longer in the freezing cave and had swiftly carried him to safety. He’d even left a burning orb nearby to provide warmth.

"Your hand’s in bad shape," Theo muttered, wrapping the wound with a strip of his robe while keeping an eye on Luke’s face. If Luke so much as winced, Theo paused before continuing.

"I was careless. Or rather, I didn’t anticipate it," Luke admitted.

"What?"

"Take a good look at his face."

Luke, who had been staring at his bandaged hand, gestured toward the unconscious enemy in the distance. Theo, realizing Luke wouldn’t say something like this without reason, slowly stood and approached the necromancer. He also made sure to extinguish the scattered flames along the way.

"...That explains a lot."

Theo’s words carried a weight of meaning. The necromancer’s face was half-charred black, a detail that immediately reminded Theo of someone from the Memvern War. It was clear the necromancer was aligned with that group.

"But what does this guy have to do with smuggling and unclassified monsters?" Theo asked.

"We’ll have to ask him when he wakes up. Not that he’s likely to answer willingly."

By now, Luke had walked over to Theo’s side. As Theo looked down at the pale-faced enemy, he reached out and lightly traced the scratches on Luke’s face.

"What are you doing? That stings," Luke grumbled, frowning.

Theo’s hand, faintly smeared with blood, stilled as a furry creature leapt from his cloak, bounding toward the fallen necromancer.

Squeak—squeak.

The beast let out a long, mournful sound. If one listened closely, it almost resembled a sorrowful melody, akin to a person’s cry.

Necromancers were known for their ability to command monsters, and their bound creatures typically showed unwavering loyalty.

"..."

Luke and Theo exchanged a glance. The furry creature, wailing like a grieving pet for its master, painted a pitiful picture.

"Looks like we’ve found a lead," Theo remarked.

"Yeah," Luke agreed.