THE PERFECT VILLAIN: Another chance with a system
Chapter 36: The Greatest of Us

Chapter 36: The Greatest of Us

For a heartbeat, Vael’s expression stiffened. He had forgotten to conceal the blade, and now he was faced with a question he’d been trying to avoid.

"Oh, the blade. I got it from an old man while hunting. He was kind of strange, though," Vael said, scratching the back of his neck, avoiding Cael’s gaze.

"An old man?" Cael questioned further. It was unlikely that an old man would willfully give away something as valuable as the hero’s blade.

"Certainly. He was the reason I came to Warstone," Vael added. A lie of that magnitude required one of two things: either the speaker was a fool, or he possessed undeniable evidence. Vael had no evidence, so all he could do was play the fool.

That made no sense to Cael at all. This was the sword they’d given to the demons, handed over by his own hands, and here it was in some random adventurer’s grip. Something else caught his attention immediately.

"Did you say he was the reason you came to Warstone?"

"Yeah," Vael said, pausing as though trying to recall the words properly. Cael waited patiently, as though his next move depended on it. "He said, when you see a hero—" Vael continued, "he said, ’Tell them, three things cannot be long hidden. The sun, the moon, and the truth.’ That’s it. That’s what he said."

Cael let the silence stretch a while longer before he turned to leave. "Let’s go," he muttered without looking back.

Vael smiled; he had just started sowing seeds in the hero’s mind—ones that would seem beneficial in the long run. Vael had barely taken a few steps, trailing behind Cael, when he felt the world tilt, then his vision went fuzzy.

Wait—What’s happening?

Before he could finish the thought, the world went black.

---

Vael opened his eyes slowly, and the first thing he saw was the setting sun, followed by a pounding headache. He slowly placed a hand on his head as he sat up.

What happened?

Claire: You ran out of mana, Lord Vael.

Oh, but why did it feel different? Isn’t it supposed to drain slowly, exhaustion setting in before the body shuts down?

Claire: Due to the system’s influence, you can use a hundred percent of your mana before it shuts down.

Odd. Could be effective, and also a problem. Notify me when I drop below thirty percent.

Claire: Certainly, Lord Vael.

Vael took a while longer before he slowly got up. Then a voice spoke from behind him.

"You’re awake."

He turned around, and Cael sat by the entrance of the pyramid, a weary smile on his face. "You were out," he said, getting back up.

Vael considered it for only a moment. The exhaustion might have come at exactly the right time. Convenient, to say the least.

"Apologies. The battle took a lot out of me."

Cael walked past him toward the whirlicote, and without looking back, he muttered, "You shouldn’t put up a strong face to impress me. I’d rather you survive than die acting strong."

Vael was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t far off from Cael’s usual character, but hearing it now, playing a different role, it landed differently. A smile escaped him before he could stop it.

How heroic.

He thought, trailing behind, and then they rode the whirlicote together. This time, the ride wasn’t silent like before. They’d barely begun the journey when Vael noticed Cael’s eyes lingering on his blade.

It stayed there a while before he finally spoke. "That blade should be treasured. Keep it with care. It’s—" He paused, searching for the right word. "—it’s special."

Special? Strange. This isn’t the kind of hero I expected to meet on my arrival. They make me feel like the villain.

Claire: You are the villain. Wasn’t that the plan?

Yeah, it was. But isn’t it more interesting for a villain to stand against a self-righteous hero than a guilty one? I do hope the others haven’t fallen off.

Vael glanced at Cael, a reckless idea crossing his mind. "Why did you say it’s special, Sir Cael?"

"It’s the fallen hero’s blade." Cael looked away. Vael wore a brief smile, then pressed further. "The traitor?"

"Don’t call him that," Cael replied almost instantly. Though he never turned around, Vael could still see the guilt eating at him from the inside. But it only made him more conflicted. If they’d wanted to preserve their names, why did they suddenly seem guilty? This was their entire plan—so why the sorrow now? After a little thought, Vael arrived at a conclusion: his death had been much larger than he’d realized, and somewhere hidden in the dark was a third figure, possibly more.

"If I may ask one thing, Sir Cael—was the fallen hero a traitor or not?" Vael asked, and for the first time, he actually waited for a sincere answer.

But the silence sat longer than expected, and soon they arrived near the guild. Vael was dropped off, and Cael handed him a small pouch with five gold coins in it.

Then he gave a weary smile as he finally replied, "He was a great hero. Probably the greatest of us."

With that, the whirlicote rode off, and Vael stared after it as it disappeared into the distance. A lot wasn’t adding up. He looked back at the kingdom—people walking about, some pushing carts, some riding carriages—nothing seemed to suggest that a massive change had occurred in the last six months. If something of that nature had happened, there should be at least one sign of it somewhere.

There was only one way to know. He’d have to explore the city himself, find out exactly what had happened after he was killed. But for now, he needed a place to sleep.

History may have rewritten itself, but the truth cannot be long hidden.