Anti Netotare Villian-Chapter 47: Rolling Heads

*Swing *Slash*

With a swift motion, the sword came crashing down. A single, clean stroke severed their heads from their torsos, so precise and effortless that not a single soul in the room had time to react. The strike was so fast—so impossibly fast—that no one present could even comprehend what had just occurred before their eyes.

*Thud* *Spurt*

Their heads hit the cold floor first, rolling lifelessly across the blood-slicked surface. A split second later, their bodies collapsed, following suit. Blood erupted like a ruptured dam, pouring out of their necks in warm, crimson streams. The floor was soon flooded, the air thick with the metallic stench of fresh death.

It was a flawless execution—no unnecessary mess, no gruesome butchery beyond the river of blood. A perfectly clean kill.

’Lying until the bitter end. What a couple of useless, slacking bastards.’ Riech scoffed internally, his cold gaze lingering on the twitching remains.

"Ma-Master, what have you done?!" Roosevelt gasped, his voice laced with shock and restrained fury as he stared at the headless corpses sprawled before him.

Riech turned to face him, his expression as unreadable as ever. Blood speckled his face, his sharp features made even more terrifying beneath the crimson stains.

"Do you dare question me, Roosevelt?" His voice was dangerously low, each word dripping with an unmistakable authority that made Roosevelt’s spine stiffen.

"N-No, my lord, I apologize," Roosevelt stammered, his throat suddenly dry. "I only wish to understand... What did they do to deserve this fate?"

He had seen Riech act irrationally before—seen his wrath, his cruelty—but never had he witnessed him like this. There was something different, something colder, something... calculated about the way he had acted.

Then, for the first time, Roosevelt’s instincts screamed at him.

He wasn’t standing before an impulsive tyrant anymore.

He was standing before a predator.

Riech extended his hand. "A towel."

Roosevelt hastily fumbled in his coat pocket, producing a neatly folded handkerchief and placing it into Riech’s outstretched palm. With practiced elegance, Riech wiped the blood from his face, his movements slow, elegent. Then, without even looking, he tossed the bloodied cloth back to Roosevelt—as if he were nothing more than a butler.

The chilling silence stretched. Then, Riech’s gaze lifted, locking onto the trembling figures of the remaining members of Squads 11 and 12.

"Slack off and lie next time," he said, his voice eerily calm. "And it will be your heads rolling on this floor."

Their bodies stiffened. Terror rippled through them, their faces pale as death itself.

"Disperse," Riech ordered with a flick of his wrist.

No hesitation.

In an instant, the surviving members vanished, scrambling to their respective posts, desperate to escape the scene they had just witnessed. None of them wanted to be the next unfortunate souls to face their lord’s unrelenting wrath.

Roosevelt swallowed hard.

"You wanted justification, didn’t you?" Riech spoke again, this time moving toward the grand chair at the center of the room. With an air of complete control, he sat down, making himself comfortable as if he hadn’t just beheaded two of his Roosevelt’s men. He gestured toward the seat across from him. "Sit."

"There’s no need for that, my lord," Roosevelt quickly declined, shifting uncomfortably. "You do not take unnecessary actions. I trust your judgment."

And yet, for the first time in his life, Roosevelt felt fear while sitting before Riech.

The balance had shifted.

No longer was Riech the naïve ruler who acted on impulse, the reckless tyrant who knew nothing about governance. For years, Roosevelt had been the one holding the real power, the shadow behind the throne, the hand that ensured Riech’s kingdom did not collapse under his arrogance. He had always believed that, should the time come, he could simply topple Riech if necessary.

That belief was now crumbling.

’It’s finally time to establish a proper hierarchy, Roosevelt.’ Riech smirked inwardly.

Unbeknownst to Roosevelt, there was another player in this game.

Riech was no longer Riech.

He was Conrad.

And Conrad was no fool who would allow himself to be controlled.

From the corner of his eye, Roosevelt examined him again, scanning every detail, searching for the familiar temperamental fool he had known for years.

But there was something different.

Something terrifying.

’Has this bastard always been this frightening? Or is my old age finally catching up to me?’ Roosevelt thought grimly.

For the first time, he didn’t know where he stood.

And for the first time, he felt a chill crawl down his spine.

’Well, if I don’t make him realize that he’s under my protection and not the other way around, who knows when he might end up like Robart? Robart was a seed I nurtured, but now he’s turned against me, ready to bite the hand that fed him.’

Riech’s gaze darkened.

He wasn’t doing any of this out of charity or loyalty. It had never been about that. It was always a two-way street.

Roosevelt had been a fugitive for years, wanted by every major power within the kingdom. His crime? Poisoning the reigning king—a sin that alone had earned him a death sentence. But that wasn’t all. He was also the infamous leader of a secret assassin guild, a shadowy figure whose very name sent chills down the spines of nobles and commoners alike. The monarchy, the aristocracy, even rival guilds—every single one of them wanted his head on a pike.

Yet, despite the overwhelming forces hunting him, he remained untouchable.

Why?

Because of Riech.

By sheer luck—or perhaps fate—Roosevelt had found himself within Riech’s grasp, and instead of delivering him to his executioners, Riech’s meathead brain saw potential. Saw usefulness.

And as long as Roosevelt remained useful, he remained alive.

---

Meanwhile, Lisa struggled to keep her composure.

Her breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest as her cold sweat mixed with the still-warm blood pooling beneath her. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay silent.

’What—what the fuck?! What kind of insane reward is waking up to people getting slaughtered first thing in the morning?!’

Her stomach churned. She wanted to throw up, but she knew better.

She didn’t fully understand the depths of what was happening here, but she had a pretty good grasp of why Riech had executed those two men.

It was because of her.

And Kotaru.

Those men had failed in their duties—failed to keep watch, failed to secure the perimeter. And as a result, she and Kotaru had waltzed in without a single soul noticing. If she, a complete outsider, could tell there was barely any security in the surrounding forest, then it was obvious why Riech must have been furious.

His reaction now made sense.

He wasn’t just killing them for their failure—he was making an example out of them.

Lisa swallowed hard and forced herself to remain still. If she was going to survive here, she needed to be very careful.

---

*Tap* *Tap*

The soft sound of fingers drumming against wood broke the suffocating silence.

Seated at the head of the table, Riech leaned back, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the few remaining souls in the room.

"So," he murmured, his voice calm, almost casual.

He tapped the table again.

"Where should I begin?"

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