I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist-Chapter 179: [Flashback] [Isaac Crawford] [5]

After Nimue surrendered, Isaac strode into the city of Cateran, gripping her arms firmly behind her back, making it abundantly clear to all that she was his hostage.

Nimue's people reacted with surprise, though not as much as Isaac had expected. He had anticipated cries of outrage, despair—perhaps even resistance. Instead, their expressions were subdued, more measured than he would have liked. Did they trust Nimue that much? Or had they been prepared for this outcome all along? Either way, Isaac knew better than to let his guard down.

"Gather all of her soldiers in one place and separate the civilians," he ordered. "Check for any wounded, collect as much testimony as possible."

His men responded without hesitation, scattering like well-trained shadows to carry out his orders.

"You're still so wary after I surrendered, Isaac Crawford? You're going to break my heart," Nimue said as she feigned a pout.

Isaac didn't even glance at her. "Why did you surrender?" He asked coldly, as they moved through the city streets.

Around them, the citizens of Cateran regarded him with wide eyes, their expressions a mix of awe and fear. To some, he was a specter from legend, a man whose name reminded them both destruction and rebirth. To others, he was an icon, a towering force in the empire's rise to dominance. Whether they revered or feared him, one thing remained constant—Isaac Crawford had all their respect.

"I must say, Lord Crawford, you seem quite the celebrity here," Nimue said, truly impressed. "I'm almost jealous."

Isaac's expression darkened. "Speak only when I allow it."

Nimue's lips curled into an amused smile. "Forgive me, Lord Crawford. What was your question again?"

"Why did you surrender?" He repeated.

This time, Nimue couldn't hold back a laugh—light, almost musical—before abruptly silencing herself when Isaac's glare snapped to her. She pressed her lips together like a chastised child caught misbehaving.

"What kind of question is that, Lord Crawford?" She asked with exaggerated innocence. "I surrendered because you asked me to. I chose to protect my people. You gave me your word, and I trust you."

Isaac's teeth clenched. That answer didn't satisfy him in the slightest.

What truly wondered Isaac was why she had surrendered so easily—and, more importantly, what scheme she was weaving in that cunning mind of hers. He had no doubt that there was a plan; he just couldn't see it yet.

Still, he was a man of his word. As long as they didn't try anything reckless, he wouldn't harm them.

"Walk," he said at last, giving Nimue a slight push forward.

She let out a soft giggle, obeying without hesitation. The amusement in her tone only fueled Isaac's annoyance but he didn't say anything.

He led her through the town, past uneasy onlookers and wary guards, until they arrived at the largest building—the town chief's residence. It stood taller and broader than the surrounding structures.

Waiting outside was the chief himself, his face pale with anxiety. The moment he spotted Isaac, he hastily bowed his head, voice quivering with forced enthusiasm.

"Lord Crawford! It's an honor to meet you—"

"Inside," Isaac cut him off without sparing a second glance.

The chief, swallowing his nerves, stepped aside to let them pass. Isaac didn't slow until they reached the office, a modest but well-kept room lined with wooden shelves and a grand oak desk. Once inside, he shoved Nimue against the wall—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that he wasn't in the mood for games.

Then, turning his gaze to the chief, he spoke up, "You're going to tell me exactly what happened."

The chief flinched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed his fear. "T-They arrived just a few days ago… surrounded Cateran before we could even think of resisting. I knew we didn't have the manpower to fight back. The witch's presence alone was enough to make it clear that struggling would only lead to pointless deaths. So, we surrendered."

Isaac listened carefully, prompting him to continue.

"Since then," the chief continued, "they've occupied the town, but they haven't done anything out of the ordinary. They treat us fairly, they haven't made any demands… aside from one thing. They ordered us not to carry weapons."

Isaac narrowed his eyes. "That's it? No looting? No strange activity?"

The chief hesitated, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not that I'm aware of."

Impatience prickled at Isaac's nerves. None of this made sense. There was a reason behind all of this—there had to be. And Nimue knew exactly what it was, but she was keeping it from him.

Sensing his growing frustration, the chief quickly bowed again, muttering frantic apologies. Isaac barely acknowledged him, simply flicking his wrist in dismissal. With a tight grip on his revolver, he gestured for the man to leave. The chief, more than eager to escape the suffocating tension in the room, rushed out without another word.

Now alone with Nimue, Isaac turned back to her.

"I don't like wasting my time."

"So am I, Isaac Crawford," Nimue replied.

"Then you're going to tell me what you're planning." His voice dropped lower, tinged with a quiet menace. "I was ordered to bring you back alive… but not necessarily in one piece."

Nimue's smile didn't falter. If anything, his words seemed to amuse her even more. And then she said something that made Isaac's grip on his revolver tighten.

"You were asked, Lord Crawford?" She asked, tilting her head. "For someone to make a direct request to the Secretary of the Empire… that could only be the Emperor himself. How is Haran? He must have grown quite a lot since the last time I saw him."

Isaac's eyes narrowed.

Why was she speaking of the Emperor so casually? More than that—why did she act as if she knew him personally?

Noticing his expression, Nimue blinked, then let out a soft hum of amusement. "He didn't tell you…?"

"Speak," Isaac snapped.

"Well, I suppose the court has changed quite a bit over the years and most of them had died along the Emperor, but I thought Haran, at the very least, would have told his close advisors about me. That's strange," she said, her smile lingering.

"What could a witch possibly know about the Empire?" Isaac asked icily.

"Oh, believe me, Isaac Crawford, I know enough." Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "In fact, ten years ago, I worked for the previous Emperor."

"..."

Isaac's expression remained unreadable.

His stare said a lot.

Nimue chuckled, fully aware of his skepticism. "Back then, I wasn't with Charentra. I worked directly under the Emperor himself. Of course, being a witch—someone who could wield magic without weapons or artifacts—I was deemed dangerous. So, naturally, my involvement was kept as secret as possible. But whenever he needed me, he called for my help."

Isaac remained unmoved. "Do you really expect me to believe this?"

"Oh, you already do, Isaac Crawford. I can tell." Nimue laughed. "If you don't believe me, ask Haran. I saved his life once, you know. He fell gravely ill. I treated him and stood by the Emperor's side."

"You stood by his side just to turn around and kill him right after?" Isaac scoffed his voice filled with contempt. "You ambushed him like a coward and struck him down."

"I didn't kill him," Nimue said, shaking her head. "As much as I hated him for betraying me in the end… I couldn't do it." Her voice dipped slightly, the bitterness giving way to something more vulnerable. "No matter how we parted, I suppose I never truly hated him. If not for him, I would've died long ago. Maybe that's why his betrayal cut so deep."

Isaac stepped closer, eyes locked onto her with a cold intensity. "Charentra killed him," he said bluntly. "Charentra killed people. Innocents."

Nimue held his gaze. "You see things in such narrow lines," she murmured. "The Charentra are simply trying to survive in a world that has already cast them aside. In the Empire, they don't have the luxury of anything else."

"Then they should have left," Isaac said icily. "Instead of clinging to their useless, pathetic rebellions."

A bitter smile curled at the edge of Nimue's lips. "The Empire privileges the rich and crushes the poor beneath its feet. Is that the Empire you're so proud to serve, Isaac Crawford?" She asked with a chuckle. "You were born into nobility. You have no idea what the world looks like beneath you."

Isaac remained silent as Nimue continued.

"I was born with nothing. I lived that world. But I've also seen nobility up close, stood beside the Emperor, and lived as one of you. That's why I know for certain—I made the right choice in standing with Charentra."

"You made the wrong choice," Isaac spat at her. "I've slaughtered countless of your kind, and I'll keep doing it. The only reason you're still breathing is because the Emperor wants you alive. That's all."

Nimue didn't flinch. She didn't react at all. Instead, she stared into his eyes, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

"I see your pain, Isaac Crawford," she said softly. "Pain and hatred… they consume you. They're the only reason you keep moving forward. But that isn't living. It's just—"

"Careful." Isaac cut her off, his eyes darkening visibly.

But Nimue didn't stop.

"Your parents—"

Before she could finish, Isaac's hand shot out, fingers closing around her throat.