I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"Ivan."

Ludmila turned to her, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Kamila? What's going on?" She asked, sensing an unusual tension in her friend's demeanor. It was rare for Kamila to look like this.

"One of our people... has been injured by a resident of Camelot," Kamila explained.

In a flash, Ivan closed the distance between them, his figure towering over her as he gently brushed his fingers across her cheek. "What happened, Kamila?"

Kamila's conflicted expression deepened. Ivan knew this look all too well—it only surfaced when something truly serious had happened, something that she was worried about.

"Something... serious," she murmured.

"Take me there," Ivan said.

Kamila gave a brief nod, her gaze darting towards Ludmila with a silent plea, before turning to lead the way.

Gwenyra, who had overheard the conversation, felt a chill run down her spine. Her face turned ghostly pale. The implications of Kamila's words were clear as day—someone from Camelot had hurt one of Ivan's people. The consequences could be severe, and she knew that retribution would not be taken lightly. Dread settled in her stomach as she hurried after them.

"Hey—" Laura began but she was quickly cut off. Continue reading stories on empire

"Wait, Laura. Let her go," Jostin said, placing a hand on her shoulder. He too followed after them. Perhaps Gwenyra needed to be present; whatever had transpired, it involved their people.

"Let's go, Dimitri," Mikhail said, slapping Dimitri on the back. "Something interesting might be happening."

Dimitri hesitated, his eyes drifting to Shina, who was still kneeling with her hands clasped in fervent prayer. Nodding he released his grip on her hair and put away his knife.

"M-Mother!" Karna cried out, his voice breaking as he rushed to his mother's side, supporting her frail form as the hold of Mikhail's Stigma finally released him.

"This won't be interesting—it'll be trouble," Dimitri muttered, trailing after Mikhail. His sister's face was painted with genuine worry. She had never shown concern for any of the Legion members before, and that alone was alarming.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Mikhail didn't deny that it was a bit strange.

…

…

After several minutes, they arrived at their destination.

Kamila stood before a modest house, her eyes scanning the scene. A crowd of Camelot's residents had gathered, whispering anxiously among themselves. But the moment Ivan appeared, their murmurs died down, and they collectively stepped back, creating a cautious distance.

Gwenyra swiftly activated her light domain, a protective aura that shielded them from the oppressive aura of Ivan's Stigma. Kamila joined in, bolstering the barrier with her own Sitgma.

"What's going on here?" Mikhail asked, stepping forward with an inquisitive gaze.

In the center of the commotion lay a girl, trembling uncontrollably on the ground. She was around Kamila's age, her face streaked with bruises, clothes torn, and her eyes swollen from tears. Beside her, a woman—presumably her mother—held her protectively, sobbing quietly. The moment Mikhail's eyes fell upon them, they flinched, averting their gazes.

"It's them, Lord Mikhail! They attacked me!" One of Gevurah's men shouted, clutching his bleeding arm. The wound looked fresh, as if he had been stabbed moments ago. His eyes burned with rage as he pointed accusingly at the girl and her mother.

"Is this true?" Ludmila asked, her gaze shifting to Kamila.

Kamila hesitated, her concern clearly fixed on Ivan. "They did attack him, but…" Her voice trailed off.

But Ivan was no fool. He had witnessed scenes like this far too many times in his life. The girl's tear-streaked face, the haunted look in her eyes—it was all too familiar. He had seen the same shattered expressions on countless women before of his village, including his mother.

Without a word, he strode toward the girl and stood over her.

"What happened." He asked, his voice a cold, flat monotone.

The girl looked up at him, her eyes meeting his pitch-black gaze. There was no warmth there, no compassion, only a silent demand for the truth. Yet something about his stare seemed different, as if he was willing her to speak, no, he wanted her to speak.

She struggled to find her voice, Ivan's overwhelming aura almost paralyzing her with fear. But through sheer will, she managed to stutter out her story. "He... He attacked me... I tried to fight back, but he—" Her words dissolved into sobs, her entire body shaking as she broke down. Her mother tightened her embrace, whispering words of comfort that did little to soothe the pain.

There was no need for more words. Ivan's expression remained impassive, but his silence was confirmation enough.

Ludmila turned her gaze to the accused man, who instantly shrank under her scrutiny.

"S-She's lying!" He stammered, attempting to back away, but there was no escaping the judgment that loomed over him.

"This is bad…" Mikhail muttered, casting a wary glance at Ivan.

For Ivan, there was no greater sin than rape. It was a wound that festered in the depths of his soul, something that haunted him ever since that dark day in his village. The very thought of it sent something twisted coursing through his veins, one that he could barely contain.

For Ivan, there were no excuses, no mitigating circumstances for such an act. It was a line that, once crossed, could never be forgiven.

Dimitri's face hardened as he watched Ivan's usually expressionless face grow even paler, while the depths of his pitch-black eyes turned icier than ever.

A collective gasp escaped the crowd.

"Ugh!"

Without warning, everyone around them collapsed to their knees, crushed beneath the weight of Ivan's Stigma. Even Urvan couldn't withstand it and was forced to bow, gasping for breath.

Only Ludmila, Mikhail, Dimitri, and Kamila remained standing, spared from the cold, oppressive force that radiated unconsciously from Ivan.

"W-Wait, she was just defending herself—" Gwenyra tried to reason, but her voice faltered when she realized Ivan was already looming over the trembling man accused of the crime.

"Hiii!" The man's legs buckled beneath him, and he dropped to the ground, forehead pressed against the dirt in a desperate display of submission. He dared not lift his gaze to meet Ivan's terrifying stare.

Sensing imminent danger, Mikhail swiftly activated his own Stigma, counteracting the suffocating aura before it could kill everyone in the vicinity.

"Ivan—" Ludmila began, her voice tinged with worry. She reached out as if to pull him back from the edge, but Mikhail held up a hand, silently urging her to stay put.

His ever-present smile was gone, replaced by a serious expression. "Not now," he whispered. It was wiser to let Ivan deal with his rage in his own way.

Ivan stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the pathetic figure before him. The man was, in Ivan's eyes, the lowest form of filth—beneath even the concept of human decency. No amount of torture would ever cleanse the stain of his sins.

He wasn't even worthy of Adam's gruesome experiences either.

Suddenly, the air around Ivan crackled, distorting with an ominous energy. Space itself began to warp and twist beside him, splitting open with a burst of black lightning.

A portal materialized—a swirling, pitch-black vortex that seemed to suck the very light out of the surroundings. The crowd's gasps turned to screams as they witnessed the terrifying display.

"Ha…"

A low, inhuman breath resonated from the portal, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present. Instinctively, they crumbled, forced back onto their knees, their souls weighed down by a fear that felt otherworldly.

From the depths of the black void, a clawed hand emerged, its skin charred like smoldering coal, and its nails long and razor-sharp. The mere sight of it was enough to send Urvan stumbling backward, his face drained of color, while Gwenyra stood paralyzed in horror.

This was no ordinary demon. Gwenyra could feel the malevolence radiating from it—a presence so dark, so powerful, that it could only belong to a Devil. And not just any Devil, but one that stood among the highest ranks—a King among Devils.

Did that mean Ivan possessed?

No.

She knew it.

The truth was far more terrifying.

It wasn't that the Devil had control over Ivan. It was the other way around.

The Devil was obeying him.

Gwenyra's eyes widened as she looked at Ivan, a cold, paralyzing fear taking hold of her heart.

Ivan remained silent, his expression unchanging as the Devil's hand shot out from the portal, its fingers like jagged blades, and seized the man by his hair.

"N-NOOOOO!!! AARGHH!!! PLEASE!!! SOMEONE, SAVE ME—ARGHHHAAA!!!"

The man's desperate pleas for mercy echoed in the air, his voice breaking into shrill, guttural screams. His entire body was pulled toward the vortex, limbs stretching unnaturally like strands of spaghetti before being swallowed whole by the spiraling darkness. The Devil devoured him alive, his screams abruptly cutting off as he vanished into the abyss.

A suffocating silence followed.

No one dared to speak. The villagers who once clamored for justice now stood frozen, their righteous anger replaced with sheer, paralyzing terror. The man had been guilty, but the manner of his execution had shaken them to their core. Their eyes widened in horror, understanding that whatever hatred they held for the criminal paled in comparison to the fear they now felt for Ivan.

Ivan though was utterly indifferent to their terror-stricken faces. He hadn't done it for anyone but for his own personal twisted desire.

Without so much as a glance back, he closed the portal with a flick of his wrist. The black lightning crackled around him one last time, and in an instant, he disappeared, leaving nothing but an eerie stillness in his wake.