A Villain's Guide to Saving the World-Chapter 49: The Great Villain! A Meeting with the King...?

The ceiling rose impossibly high, painted with scenes of draconic battles and royal triumphs. The scent of incense hung in the air—sharp, metallic, almost predatory.

This was no mere palace. It was a cathedral to power.

Nobles and servants lined the room’s edges, murmuring among themselves—whispers of the Third Prince’s new allies and the recent assassination attempt spreading like wildfire.

"I have arrived, Father."

Ivan declared, a massive cape materializing behind him as he stepped across a specific threshold, the point where his dominion fully took hold.

At the farthest end of the room stood a throne, encrusted with ornate gems. Behind it, mounted on the wall, was the head of a demon—one of Lucian’s own. It was flanked by two mages, each one equal to Lucian in his current state, their faces hidden beneath heavy hoods.

And seated on the throne was none other than the King himself—young, powerful, and in his prime. A man who could, if he so wished, reduce the entire room—including Lucian—to dust with a mere gesture.

"Ivan, I heard the news. Are you well?"

The King spoke, his voice merry and gregarious. Golden hair cascaded over his shoulders, his eyes gleaming to match the golden laurel wreath on his head. At first glance, he looked less like a monarch and more like a god, radiating wealth and power in every inch of his being.

"More than well, Father."

Ivan chuckled, bowing before the King. He then turned, gesturing toward Lucian standing behind him, his shadow army neatly formed in perfect formation.

"Meet my new retainer—Lucian, the self-proclaimed Archmage of Darkness!"

Ivan stifled a laugh with his proclamation, clearly amused and curious to see how Lucian would handle interacting with a beast of a man.

The prince had seen Lucian’s brains and wit in action against people on his level—but how would he fare before the monarch of an entire kingdom?

Lucian bowed, snapping his fingers as the shadow army was sucked into his palm, condensing into a single orb of pure shadow.

Crumbling it in his hands, the shadows let out agonized screams—a calculated display of power.

"I, Lucian, bow before the King."

The King stared in amusement, clearly intrigued by the number of red flags Lucian was already raising with just his introduction.

"Archmage of Darkness? And bearing the same name as the previous Dark Lord?"

He laughed—a rich, authoritative sound that carried weight even in mirth.

"Either you’re an idiot... or just unlucky."

Lucian didn’t flinch at the jab—but deep down, he burned to show this gilded monarch the difference between a name and a legend.

The King raised his arm, summoning a grand construct before him. Its form resembled that of a knight wielding a massive greatsword, its radiant golden armor gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the palace windows.

"My sons deserve the best of the best when it comes to those serving them," the King said, eyes narrowing with a sly grin.

"This shall be your test."

With a wave of his hand, the radiant construct suddenly sprinted toward Ivan.

Ivan, facing death head-on, only sighed.

Lucian understood immediately—it was a test to see whether he could truly protect the Third Prince.

"Very well."

Lucian stepped forward, flashstepping in front of Ivan. In an instant, the Sky Piercer Halberd materialized in his palm.

The King watched, curiosity piqued and one brow raised.

"I thought you were an archmage?" he remarked.

Lucian chuckled.

"It’s good to be versatile."

With that, he met the construct head-on, the halberd’s blade clashing against the golden greatsword with full force.

The halberd met the greatsword with a deafening clang, shockwaves rippling across the marble. Gasps echoed through the hall. Lucian stood firm, one boot sliding slightly on the polished floor.

His arms ached with the force of the blow, bones humming from the shock. It had been years since anything hit him that hard.

The King nodded slowly, and with a flick of his finger, the construct vanished—as if it had never existed.

"You passed."

Lucian remained still for a breath longer, halberd still raised, eyes locked on the throne. The marble floor beneath him bore a faint crack from the clash—an echo of how close the blow had come to breaking more than just stone.

He slowly lowered the weapon. The Sky Piercer dissolved into shadow, retreating into his palm like smoke. His fingers trembled—not from weakness, but from memory. That construct didn’t just move like a soldier. It calculated. It adapted. It remembered.

Was it truly magic—or something more alive than death itself?

"You test fiercely,"

Lucian said, voice steady, but his heartbeat still thrummed in his ears. That thing wasn’t just enchanted—it was alive. Intelligent. Even now, he could feel phantom pressure where the greatsword had nearly cleaved through his shoulder.

The King leaned forward, resting his chin against his knuckles.

"My sons deserve shields that don’t crack on the first strike. You were quick. Sharp. Dangerous."

His golden eyes glinted, catching the light just right to seem almost inhuman.

"But not loyal yet."

That statement lingered in the air like smoke. Nobles whispered from the sides of the hall, some audibly skeptical.

"He used a weapon, not a spell," one muttered.

"Shadow magic in the throne room? Madness."

"Did he really just... crush his own army?"

Let them whisper, Lucian thought. Fear bred obedience, and he could work with that. Better they see a monster than mistake him for a harmless ornament. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Lucian glanced around, gauging faces. Most were faceless elites and court sycophants, but a few stood out—watching, not whispering. The mages flanking the throne hadn’t moved a muscle since his entrance. Statuesque. Oppressive.

They’re not just strong, he thought, they’re anchored. Bound to this room somehow... or worse, to the King himself.

Ivan casually dusted off his shoulder, his usual smugness intact. "He’ll be loyal when it matters, Father. Besides, there’s no use in keeping a tame wolf when the hunt is just beginning."

Lucian raised an eyebrow at the phrasing.

The King smiled faintly. "That depends on the wolf’s bite."

There was a pause—sharp, uncomfortable.

Then the King waved his hand, the gesture carrying the weight of dismissal and reward in equal measure. "You may keep him... for now."

Lucian resisted the urge to smirk. "How generous."

The doors creaked open again behind them, this time letting in a line of royal attendants bearing scrolls, refreshments, and one high-ranking official who strode forward without bowing.

"Your Majesty," the man said, "the First Prince requests audience this evening."

Ivan’s expression barely changed, but Lucian felt the subtle tightening of his shoulders—the small signals of a man preparing for war. The First Prince. Fey’s ally. A quiet declaration of political war if there ever was one.

The King waved again, more dismissive this time. "Let him stew. I’ll hear him after dinner."

Lucian turned toward Ivan and leaned in just enough to whisper.

"Your brother makes quick moves."

Ivan muttered back without looking. "He’s always been five steps ahead. We just need to be six."

Lucian exhaled, tension easing just a little. Then his gaze wandered—past the nobles, past the mages, past the still-smoking braziers of blue flame—to the mounted demon head above the throne.

You failed me once, he thought grimly, addressing the long-dead creature, Let’s see if I fail you now.

Ivan made his way toward another part of the palace, his cape billowing as though caught in a nonexistent wind, held aloft by the magic sustaining it.

"We have much to do, don’t you think?" Ivan remarked.

Lucian nodded, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Of course. Power waits for no one."