A Villain's Guide to Saving the World-Chapter 43: The Great Villain! Seeks Answers...?

The Third Prince exhaled sharply, pushing aside the glaring red flag of Lucian casually wielding hellfire. There were more pressing matters.

"The assassins at the manor and in the streets have been dealt with," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Didn’t expect a bunch of drunkards to have Dominions that strong."

His amusement was genuine—and directed at Lucian’s so-called followers, whose surprising strength came courtesy of Lucian’s Dominion-sharing spell.

Lucian offered a brief, knowing smile.

He brushed a few soot-streaked strands of hair from his face, eyes glinting with residual madness and calm.

"Glad they were useful," he chuckled, fingers weaving through the air in an elegant spiral.

"I’ll keep an eye on him—just in case he tries to slip away," Lucian added, his voice steadier now, grounded.

[System Interference: Emotional Control Passive Activated]

Lucian’s eyes flicked upward. The notification hovered in his mind like a whisper, subtle but unmistakable. Another passive... and right when he needed it most.

"How convenient," he muttered, bemused. Then, louder—his voice snapping back to its usual dramatic cadence—"Glad to hear it!"

At his gesture, the hellfire wall twisted and curled inward, converging around the Third Prince’s blade like molten threads drawn to a lodestone.

The flames pulsed, sensing royalty, as if eager to serve a worthy vessel.

The Prince’s grin widened. It wasn’t every day royalty got to wield power torn straight from the dominions of hell—even if it was heretical. Power was power.

And this? This was intoxicating.

Without hesitation, he lunged forward.

The crimson assassin reacted fast, despite the burns still smoldering at his cloak’s edges.

"Fine!" the assassin barked, eyes wild. "If I’m dying today, I’m dragging this smug bastard down with me!"

His laugh was ragged and unhinged—half-defiance, half-desperation. He knew the end was near, but he’d make it cost.

The Third Prince didn’t flinch.

Ash coiled around his boots with every step, the battlefield recognizing him as its chosen heir.

He remembered how this assassin had toyed with him back at the manor. But now? The battlefield was different. The odds had flipped.

Hell itself was on his side.

"Not so easy this time, is it?" he taunted, dancing through the battlefield with swift, precise footwork, hopping between patches of scorched earth.

"Stop dodging and fight me!" the crimson assassin roared, spear lashing out like lightning, faster than a blink.

But the Prince only laughed, slipping just beyond reach, the flame-wreathed blade in his hand trailing sparks as he prepared to strike back.

The Third Prince’s eyes flared gold, pupils slitting into draconic slivers.

"As you wish," he growled, voice low and resonant, steam hissing from between his lips. A hollow, bluish flame flickered within his mouth—an omen of the ancient power stirring inside.

The crimson assassin gasped—too late.

That one breath of awe was all the opening the Prince needed.

The Prince’s blade cleaved through his mask in a single, searing arc, the heat so intense it shimmered in the air.

The assassin staggered back, landing in a defensive crouch. His now-exposed face flushed red—not from shame, but from the raw heat that had licked his skin.

"Damn nobles!" he spat, eyes narrowing, smugness fading beneath a veil of irritation.

From across the battlefield, Lucian arched an eyebrow.

"...What?" he muttered, genuinely thrown. He had pegged the assassin as the blonde-haired merchant he’d once gambled with—not this stranger.

But that raised a far more unsettling question: If he wasn’t that man, then how did he know me?

Lucian’s fingers snapped.

In an instant, shadows swirled and surged. He and the Third Prince vanished beneath a coil of darkness, their positions swapping like pieces on a cosmic chessboard.

The ground exhaled them back into the world—Lucian now face-to-face with the stunned assassin, the Third Prince blinking into position far behind him.

The assassin recoiled, stumbling back onto the scorched earth. For the first time, his expression cracked—not with rage or arrogance, but pure, helpless desperation.

The smile was gone.

The mask was gone.

Only fear remained. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

The Third Prince called out from behind, voice edged with frustration and curiosity.

"What are you planning?"

The Prince furrowed his brow, stepping forward instinctively.

His draconian features—slitted eyes, steam-laced breath—betrayed his anticipation. He’d been ready for a proper rematch.

Lucian glanced over his shoulder and gave a casual wave, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Just give me a teeny, tiny second," he said with a lazy chuckle.

He turned back, extending an arm—and gently placed his hand on the assassin’s forehead.

"Mind Prison."

A single touch, yet it carried the weight of a thousand binding chains.

The world warped instantly, melting like ink in water. The scorched battlefield dissolved, reforming into a grand, surreal throne room. Pillars stretched impossibly high, carved with shifting runes. Jagged statues loomed, and dark marble bled shadows that hissed on contact. The architecture itself seemed hostile, like it resented being perceived.

The crimson assassin’s eyes darted around, realization dawning.

If this is a mental domain... I might have a chance.

"You’ll regret this!" he barked, teeth clenched as panic clawed at the edges of his focus.

With a growl, he tightened his grip on the spear and lunged at Lucian.

But Lucian didn’t budge. The spear passed clean through him—his form dissipating into mist.

The assassin’s eyes widened, but only for a moment. That brief distraction was enough. He snapped his fingers, his Dominion activating—disappearing in a blink and reappearing several feet back.

"An assassin trains his mind as much as his blade," he growled, dropping into a combat stance. "You brought me here... I’ll show you your mistake!"

Lucian laughed softly, then reached out, drawing a slow circle in the air.

"I sure hope you make it worth my time."

The circle ignited into a glowing rune—brief, intricate, and unsettling.

"Mind Prison: Memory Absorption Contract."

The rune blinked out of existence.

Lucian stepped forward, hands igniting with hellfire once more, flames flickering like serpents around his fingers.

"I’ll even give you the first move," he said, voice calm, mockingly generous.