Chapter 16
Chronicles of a Villain (1)
Around this time in his previous life,
Chronicles of a Villain
Isaac had vaguely heard a story about an infantryman who escaped from the execution grounds.
His memory was hazy, and he had never even seen the soldier’s face.
He only learned the man’s name while passing the dull days imprisoned in an underground vault, reading a book titled Chronicles of a Villain out of sheer boredom.
It was a rare book filled with an unusual number of illustrations.
It pieced together all sorts of rumors about villains circulating in the streets and inserted composite sketches from wanted posters throughout.
Among them, Niers appeared briefly as well.
He was depicted far more devilishly than in reality, but it was convincing enough.
***
Chronicles of a Villain gained popularity among the nobility and was published up to Volume 3.
By the time the third volume was released, the kingdom’s civil war had already begun to intensify.
The villain featured in that volume—Kyle.
The very condemned man standing before Isaac now, and the same infantryman who once escaped the execution grounds.
The author had written critiques for each villain, but for some reason, he gave Kyle particularly high praise:
“The public sees Kyle as nothing more than the leader of a rabble of insurgents causing chaos. However, his true nature is far more complex. He may well have been a genius capable of becoming the seventh Swordmaster on the continent.
Yet, unable to resolve the knot in his heart, he failed to bloom as he should have.
He is undoubtedly a villain. Hundreds, thousands of citizens have lost their lives by his hand, and it is said even His Highness the Duke suffered frequent headaches because of him.
However, wise and compassionate readers—just as there are reasons for good, there are also reasons for evil. I ask that you consider this as you read this book.”
The author, after writing Volume 3, was purged by the Second Prince, who had elevated himself to the rank of duke within the Empire.
Why he gave Kyle such an evaluation—
why he even wrote such things—
Isaac never came to know.
What he did understand from the book was simple:
Kyle possessed extraordinary talent.
The book circulated secretly among nobles, read until it was worn out.
Some even paid scribes with sums worth a life just to obtain copies.
The version Isaac read was already the seventeenth transcription.
If a man could inspire that level of curiosity,
then he must have truly accomplished something remarkable in reality.
***
“How…?”
Kyle could not hide his expression.
“It’s too early to be surprised. I know more than just your name.”
Isaac could feel Kyle’s mana.
‘Incredible.’
If he had once seen in Enette the seed of a budding mage,
then in Kyle he saw a flowering tree, buds already forming on every branch.
How much effort had gone into reaching that point?
What level would he attain once those buds fully bloomed?
It was impossible to estimate.
Of course, this was merely an image Isaac formed after acquiring the Fifth Circuit—nothing more than imagination.
Its accuracy was uncertain.
But if the decades of training Isaac had accumulated were not in vain,
then one thing was certain—
Kyle was exactly the kind of talent Goethe needed.
***
“What do you even know about me?”
“For example, I know you’re Kayen’s son.”
“…Who are you?”
Kyle sprang to his feet in shock.
His eyes were filled with wariness—no, closer to hostility.
“You served in Winterband and still don’t recognize me? My name is Isaac von Goethe. The eldest son of the Goethe family—”
“That’s not what I’m asking! How do you know that? Are you here to kill me?”
“You’re quite self-absorbed. Do you think the chaotic Republic cares about the son of a mercenary? Especially an illegitimate child who disappeared over a decade ago? Relax. I’m not some mage in disguise, nor am I being controlled, nor sent by anyone.”
“…Are you really Young Master Isaac?”
“Believe it or not—that’s your choice.”
***
Kyle looked confused.
This was his first time meeting Isaac face-to-face.
Seeing him move freely through the mansion’s underground prison under guard escort,
wearing noble attire, well-groomed,
and still just a boy barely out of childhood—
that was all he could infer.
“If you really are the eldest son of the Goethe family, how do you know so much about me?”
“I’m smart. When I put together what I’ve heard, it becomes obvious.”
Isaac tapped his temple.
Of course, it was a lie.
Everything came from the book—and from Jonas in his previous life.
“That’s nonsense…”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have the right to question me right now. You have two choices: answer my questions, or don’t.”
“….”
“If you want to keep a secret, you pay with another secret.”
Isaac’s voice turned colder.
“Let me ask again. Why are the company commanders of Winterband involved in slave trading?”
“If you truly are the Young Master, then I can answer even less.”
Kyle used formal speech, but his guard remained up.
“Why? Worried about Randolph? Afraid harm might come to the family of the superior who once treated you like a brother?”
Isaac based his guess on what he had heard from the Count.
“…Think whatever you want.”
Kyle sat back down.
No matter how many questions Isaac asked afterward,
Kyle gave no further answers.
***
“You’re planning to escape from the execution grounds, aren’t you? With your skill, it’s possible. But what then?”
…
“Fikel and Randolph might pin all the crimes on you. Then you’ll become a wanted criminal in the kingdom. And if I happen to reveal your origins, the Republic’s trackers will be after you too.”
…
“Your revenge isn’t finished yet, Kyle. But this deal will push you several steps back. That old man looks like he’ll die soon even without anyone killing him. You seem awfully relaxed.”
…
Isaac deliberately chose words meant to strike the deepest nerve—
but Kyle showed no reaction.
‘Just as I heard.’
Isaac recalled what Jonas had told him in his previous life.
The infantryman who escaped near the estate had been falsely accused of colluding with a criminal organization in the sewage tunnels, living as a wanted fugitive.
Later, after the kingdom fell under the Empire, he joined the rebels—
eventually rising to their leader.
It was only possible because of his overwhelming martial prowess.
Jonas had described Kyle as “a man of loyalty.”
When the Goethe family was gathering resources to become a city-state,
hardliners within the rebels proposed raiding Goethe.
But Kyle refused—
he said he could not attack comrades he had once fought alongside in Winterband.
As a result, the rebels split into moderates and hardliners, fell into infighting, and destroyed themselves.
After that, Kyle’s fate became unknown.
At the very least, he wasn’t the type to betray comrades who had shared life and death with him.
Even now, with his life and purpose at stake, he remained silent for his superior’s sake.
That was completely at odds with the charge of “insubordination.”
‘He’s not someone like Bill who moves based on profit and loss. In that case…’
***
“Young Master, what are you going to do? At this rate, Niers’s men will get scared and run away. I’ll be the only one left to take the fall!”
As soon as Isaac returned to his chamber, Bill spoke urgently.
It hadn’t even been a full day, yet his face looked gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten for days.
“Calm down.”
“Calm down? Would you be calm if you were in my position? You keep acting like it’s someone else’s problem, but if I open my mouth—”
Crack!
A shard of ice formed in Isaac’s hand, quickly taking the shape of a blade.
A cold mist flowed from it.
A simple application of basic frost magic.
The ice blade pointed at Bill’s throat.
“I’d like you to consider that your head might roll off before you even open your mouth.”
“…Ghk.”
“You haven’t forgotten the contract, have you? You’ll die before you can say anything.”
Isaac reminded him of its terms:
- Do not speak about Isaac, nor harm him.
- Violation results in death.
- In whatever way Isaac desires.
Bill’s face filled with resentment.
“Prepare a place.”
“A place…?”
“Tell them Niers’s new leader won’t be paying tribute to the knights anymore. If they have complaints, they can come directly.”
“Are you insane?! You want me dead?!”
“I’ll go.”
The ice blade Isaac created floated into the air, spinning slowly.
“…What?”
Bill asked back with a dumbfounded expression.
“These bastards… they’ve got some nerve.”
“Niers, that lunatic, must be rolling in his grave.”
“He’s even crazier than that lunatic. At least Niers knew where his life stood.”
Fikel clicked his tongue as he gathered his gear.
Even after returning to the estate, he hadn’t taken off his gambeson or chainmail, so all he needed was to strap on his sword and robe.
“You don’t need to come, Fikel. I’m enough on my own.”
“You’d better stop. They know what we’re capable of, and yet they provoked us like this. They must have something up their sleeve. We should prepare properly too.”
“Randolph. Just in case—don’t show mercy at the edge of your blade. Those scum are nothing more than vermin gnawing at Bern City. They’re neither subjects we need to protect nor people we owe loyalty to under Goethe.”
“I know.”
***
Under the pretense of going on a patrol, the two knights borrowed horses and rode toward Bern City.
A cutting wind lashed against their faces, but neither so much as blinked.
Compared to the northern winds of Winterband, this was nothing more than a breeze.
They left their horses at the inn closest to the southern slums and headed into the sewage tunnels.
Pulling their hoods low and tearing strips from their robes to cover their mouths, they moved carefully.
Not that anyone in the slums would recognize northern knights—but caution never hurt.
The vagrants of the slums and sewers instinctively avoided them.
Without the lord’s protection, they had no reason to pick fights with those who looked strong.
Even getting close meant enduring the stench of rot—so naturally, they kept their distance from Fikel and Randolph.
“This place really gives me the creeps. Hey, Randolph. This the right way?”
Fikel asked.
Managing Niers had been Randolph’s responsibility, so Fikel wasn’t familiar with the sewer’s layout.
A maze-like sewage system.
The smell of excrement and rotting corpses mixed together.
All sorts of unpleasant human sounds—
moans, screams, manic laughter.
Fikel’s face twisted in disgust.
“It is. But… something’s off.”
“What is?”
“There’s not a single one of Niers’s men around.”
As Randolph said, normally there would be thugs guarding the routes to prevent captives from escaping.
“Did they all tuck their tails and run?”
“If that were the case, why provoke us?”
“Who knows.”
Fikel stroked his chin.
“Look at this.”
“What the— It’s empty.”
Even the cages in the holding area for the “goods” were all open.
“What the hell happened here? That guy who killed Niers… is he really trying to shut everything down?”
Fikel stretched his neck sideways.
Crack, crack.
His bones popped—his usual habit whenever something irritated him.
“I can’t figure out his intentions.”
Randolph muttered while looking at the open cages.
The slaughterhouse was the same.
The place where Niers, addicted to dark magic, disposed of useless “products.”
Maggots and flies swarmed everywhere—
but all that remained were rotten organs and scraps of corpses.
There were no signs of freshly cut flesh.
“It’s certain Niers is dead.”
“Yeah… looks like it.”
***
At some point, both knights had drawn their daggers.
In the narrow tunnels, longswords weren’t ideal.
The more clues they uncovered, the harder it became to understand their opponent.
Was he after money?
A bloodthirsty madman?
A fanatic of some ideology or cult?
Driven by lust—women or men?
Those were the kinds of lowlifes they had seen before.
But the one calling himself the new leader of Niers didn’t fit any of those.
“….”
Fikel suddenly stopped walking.
Randolph nodded.
At the deepest part of Niers’s base—
where Niers himself used to stay—
they felt a presence.
“If you’re here, why not greet us first?”
A voice came from inside, as if it had already noticed them.
But the voice was… too young.
At first glance, it almost sounded like a monster mimicking a child.
“Bill, attend to our guests.”
Creak—
“P-p-p-please, come in…”
“….”
With the sound of the rotten door opening, a man dressed as a servant spoke.
His face was pale, his expression completely terrified.
At least, he didn’t seem like a threat.
***
The once grotesque room of Niers was now clean.
Instead of the nauseating smell of human flesh, a faint herbal scent lingered.
It didn’t fully mask the stench of the sewer,
but it made the space… surprisingly tolerable.
“This scent…”
For a moment, Randolph felt both familiarity and unease.
The herbal fragrance was the same one used in the Goethe estate.
“So, you’ve got nine lives, huh? The new leader of Niers? Looks like your men got scared and ran. Or maybe you didn’t even have the same loyalty that lunatic butcher had.”
Fikel mocked as he looked around the empty base.
“….”
The man sitting where Niers once had remained silent.
He wore a hood, but his small, childlike frame couldn’t be hidden.
He sat far from the torchlight, making his face hard to see.
“Can I ask you one thing?”
The small man spoke in a child’s voice.
“Well, you’re about to die anyway, so I’ll answer one question. You creepy bastard, imitating a kid’s voice.”
Fikel raised his dagger.
A faint blue glow shimmered along its blade—
Aura.
“Why did you do it?”
The small man stood and removed his hood.
At that moment, interpreting the movement as the start of an attack,
Fikel lunged forward.
But suddenly—
a crushing force pressed down on his shoulder.
“Randolph? …What are you doing?”
“Kneel.”
Randolph grabbed Fikel’s shoulders with both hands and forced him down.
“What the—?!”
“Do you really not recognize who that is?”
Only then did Fikel raise his eyes and look at the man’s face.
“…An actual kid— no… Young Master?”
“Good to see you, Sir Fikel. Sir Randolph. Shall we have some tea?”