A Villain's Guide to Saving the World-Chapter 54: The Great Villain! Bleeding the Skies...?

The Ashbound Champion moved with poised intensity, his fingers tightening around the haft of his scorched spear as Ivan shot forward—wings flaring wide with a whip of wind, his approach a blur of heat and fury.

"Let’s see how much heat you can handle!"

Ivan laughed, dragonfire swirling around his sword as he swung in a blazing arc. The Champion reacted fast, snapping his shield up just in time. Sparks flew as steel met runed bronze, the clang of impact echoing through the crater.

Before the smoke cleared, Lucian was already in motion—dashing past them, boots skimming the cracked ground. In one fluid leap, he vaulted onto the Champion’s back and halted, smirking as shadows pooled around his halberd.

"Gotta do better than that, Prince."

His tone was teasing, but his glowing eyes told a different story—focused, calculating. The halberd shimmered, dark energy coiling tighter around its edges.

The Champion gave a sharp, unimpressed laugh.

"You two fight like beginners."

He stomped the ground, and thin fractures split outward like lightning, disrupting footing beneath both fighters. Lucian staggered back, forced to leap down, while Ivan took to the air in a single beat of his wings, avoiding the quake entirely.

From above, Ivan came down hard, swinging in brutal, relentless arcs meant to overwhelm. Each strike left searing trails of golden fire, his blade pulsing hotter with every pass.

Lucian, regaining his ground behind the Champion, inhaled calmly, halberd at the ready. He twirled it once in his grip, the weapon humming with tension.

"It’s called a two-on-one for a reason!"

He lunged forward just as Ivan pressed the assault—but the Champion wasn’t distracted for long. With fluid precision, he spun and hurled his shield toward Ivan, then immediately turned to intercept Lucian.

"Fight me head-on like a true warrior!"

He slammed his spear into the ground. Pillars of lava erupted with violent force, molten jets racing toward Lucian. The shadow-wielder danced between them, barely fazed, but his path was now partially blocked.

The Champion reached back for his spear, twisted it free from the magma-cracked floor, and hurled it again—this time aiming to drive it through the flying shield still arcing toward Ivan, a feint masked as chaos.

Ivan caught the shield with one arm, dragonfire surging across his skin. The heat sizzled against the metal, but he held fast. With a sharp grunt, he threw it aside—slamming it into the far wall with a thunderous clang.

"Too slow."

He met the incoming spear with a clean parry, the weapon’s edge warping and softening as it skimmed his flaming blade. Molten droplets hissed into the ground below.

Lucian seized the opening. His halberd swept low then rose in a wide, vicious arc from behind, aimed to cleave the Champion in half.

But the Champion turned sharply, catching the halberd with one gauntleted hand. Sparks burst from the weapon as it ground to a stop.

Ivan was already in motion. With fire in his lungs and speed on his side, he lunged forward, driving his sword toward the Champion’s exposed chest in a brutal, final thrust.

Yet the Champion twisted with startling agility. Still gripping the halberd’s shaft, he swung it sideways—using Lucian himself as a weapon—and hurled him directly into Ivan.

"Pathetic!"

The word rang like a war drum, echoing through the arena as both warriors collided and crashed to the ground in a blur of limbs, steel, and shadow.

Lucian used his halberd as a crutch, slamming the butt of it against the scorched crater floor to halt his momentum. Dust and shards of obsidian kicked up around his boots as he skidded to a stop, bracing himself. His body tensed for only a moment—then relaxed. His face lit up with pure, irreverent amusement.

"Been too long since I got flinged like that!"

He laughed, the sound echoing sharply in the sweltering crater air. With a casual flick of his wrist, the halberd dissolved into shadow, vanishing in a swirl of dark tendrils. Lucian flexed his fingers, then cracked his knuckles with deliberate satisfaction—one, then the other.

"Time for my main specialty, eh?"

A spark pulsed in his palms, followed by a flickering surge of energy that danced up to his elbows. His eyes glowed brighter, a deeper violet hue shining through, refracted like starlight through obsidian. Magic rippled across his arms—dense, focused, controlled. He lowered his stance slightly, switching gears. Lucian was ready. Hand-to-hand might not have been his strong suit, but adaptability was.

Because when it came to close combat, he knew one thing for sure: he was nowhere near the Ashbound Champion’s level.

Meanwhile, across the battlefield, Ivan slammed hard into the side of the volcano’s inner wall. Stone cracked and crumbled around him, fire-tinged dust filling the air. The impact would’ve folded most men in half—but Ivan merely pushed off the scorched rock with a growl of laughter, embers dancing around him.

Instead of pain, there was exhilaration.

"That kinda tickled... like an ant!"

He exhaled deeply, steam blasting from his mouth in a sudden hiss, like a dragon letting off pressure. His grin widened, wild and fearless. In his eyes, flames burned—literal fire locked behind his pupils, flickering with challenge.

Lucian gave Ivan a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth curling upward in bemused disbelief as he took in the wild grin plastered on Ivan’s face. The air between them shimmered with residual heat.

"You act like nothing like when we first met now."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, before shifting his attention back to the imposing figure of the Ashbound Champion, who stood unwavering amid the chaos.

"Is this how you really act?"

Ivan stepped forward, flames licking the edge of his burning sword, the blade still glowing with fierce, pulsing light. The volcanic wind whipped around him, fluttering strands of scorched cloth still clinging to his armored frame.

"Who knows? All I know is that I’m absolutely loving it!"

Ivan bellowed, his voice echoing with reckless joy. With a powerful beat of his wings, he launched himself toward the Ashbound Champion once more, golden fire trailing in his wake like a comet streaking through a stormy sky.

"Time for round two!"

He roared, sword raised high. The clash came in an explosion of sound and light—spear meeting sword in a storm of strikes, the shockwaves from their blows carving deep gashes into the volcanic walls. Each swing shook the ground, hurling molten debris and ash into the air with every impact.

Lucian sighed from behind, resting a hand lazily on his hip as he watched the two collide like titans. 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

"Those two brutes..."

He muttered with a slight shake of the head, a low chuckle escaping him as he turned his attention inward. With a steady breath, he focused energy into his free hand’s palm. Shadows coiled tightly around it, writhing like sentient tendrils. He extended a finger and sliced cleanly across his own skin, blood welling up and flowing into a hovering sphere suspended in the air above his palm—dark, dense, and glowing faintly with eldritch power.

"Stall him for me for a bit."

He murmured, voice low and calm, even as the sphere pulsed with growing intensity—its surface rippling like a liquid heart suspended in midair.

Lucian smirked, spinning around fluidly on his heel with one arm stretched high, letting the stream of blood spiral and coalesce into a dense orb above his palm. Each movement was deliberate, as though he were conducting a symphony written in crimson.

"Been relying on darkness for a while... how about resorting back to blood?"

He muttered, his tone casual, almost playful, though the air around him grew colder with anticipation. A faint gleam danced in his glowing eyes.

"Won’t hurt—at least not for me."

Lucian grinned wide, the sphere of blood now grown to the size of his head, thick and slow-turning like molten rubies. It shimmered ominously, casting warped red light across his face.

Lucian inhaled slowly, the metallic scent of his own blood hanging thick in the superheated air. This technique took more out of him than he cared to admit—but it didn’t matter. Not here. Not now.

"This should be enough."

He snickered, flicking his hand upward in a sharp gesture. The orb launched into the sky, hanging high above like a sinister, pulsating sun—unnatural and regal in its stillness.

Lucian then extended both arms outward, chest lifted, his stance wide and grounded. His silhouette exuding dangerous confidence. A gleam of excitement lit his expression.

This had worked in the first trial dungeon—so why not the second?

"Blood Rain!"

He declared, voice ringing with power. The crimson sphere expanded suddenly, stretching into a thin, trembling sheet that blanketed the sky overhead like a stormfront of gore. Then, with a soft hiss, the first droplets began to fall—slow at first, then steadily growing into a steady crimson drizzle that hissed on the scorched rock below.

"It’s only fair that I give myself a field advantage, right?"

He said with a sly grin, the rain painting the battlefield in shades of red and war.