I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

Chapter 132 The Man Called Ivan

Panic surged in Gwenyra's chest as she realized he was about to walk out. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand grasping his sleeve.

When Ivan's eyes swung back toward her, Gwenyra felt a chill run down her spine, as if he might strike her down right then and there. Instinctively, she yanked her hand back.

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"M–My apologies."

"..."

"Just a minute, please," Gwenyra asked again, this time forcing herself to meet his cold gaze.

Ivan turned around. Though he wasn't making a move to sit down, he gave her the time she'd requested.

Gwenyra shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny but rose to her feet, bracing herself.

"I–I heard," she began, her voice faltering for a moment, "that men from Camelot are being called to enroll in the army. I've also received letters from neighboring towns... they're all saying the same thing."

She paused. It didn't take much to understand what it all meant, but the weight of it frightened her—frightened her for her people.

Yes, they had been enrolled but none of them had the choice to refuse. All capable men were forced to enroll but the worse was that it was for a cause that didn't concern them.

This wasn't a war for Camelot, or even for Britannia. It was for Gevurah. And yet, men all over Britannia were being dragged into it.

During her walks through town, people had stopped her—some desperately, some quietly terrified—asking her about the conscriptions. But what could she tell them? She had no answers. No power to change anything.

At the very least, she needed to understand why.

"Kukuku," Mikhaim chuckled from where he'd lounged lazily in a nearby chair. "Should we congratulate you for not being blind, Princess?"

"..."

"Yeah, we're going to war. Soon. Against Unadora."

"U–Unadora..." Gwenyra gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

Unadora. The kingdom to the south. A neighbor they'd always shared a peaceful relationship with—or at least, they had until now.

"But why?" She asked, her fists clenching tightly. Sadness flickered across her face, but she couldn't let it stop her from demanding answers.

"Why?" Mikhail arched a brow, amused by her naivety. "Don't you know what our goal is, Princess? After these months spent with us"

"Spreading Seraphiel's Faith," Gwenyra replied automatically.

"Exactly." Mikhaim smirked. "Britannia is just the first step. Unadora is next. After that, we'll move on. One by one, until the entire Holy Continent is under our control."

"Th–This is madness!" Gwenyra snapped in disbelief.@@@@

Ivan stepped back, removing the knife and tossing it to Mikhail, who caught it.

"B–But... there are innocent people too," Gwenyra said, looking at Ivan.

"My mother was innocent," Ivan interrupted. "And she was violated in front of me. I remember it vividly," he continued, extending his hand with his Stigma swirling above his palm. "They made me watch. They wanted me to hear it, but they didn't want to hear me, so they cut out my tongue and stabbed my throat with a knife they had heated. They didn't want me to escape, so they also severed my arms and legs."

"..." Gwenyra opened her mouth but couldn't find the words, her eyes glistening slightly as her fists shook.

"I watched it again. And again. Over and over. When they were done with my mother, they moved on to the other mothers. They forced me to watch for days and nights. I wanted to die, but they wouldn't let me. Their so-called 'Holy Water' kept me alive just enough to endure it. How many days did it last, Mikhail?" Ivan glanced at Mikhail.

"Seven days," Mikhail answered with a laugh. "After that, we were broken enough for their experiments."

"Exactly," Ivan nodded slowly, his gaze distant as the dark tattoos etched on his chest, back, and arms pulsed faintly. "Seven days. Then they wanted to... violate my sisters and Ludmila before experimenting on them. I told them I'd trade my days for theirs and demanded they release them. How long did my sisters and Ludmila suffered, Mikhail?"

"Fifteen days," Mikhail replied without hesitation.

"Fifteen days." Ivan's eyes were locked on the swirling patterns of his tattoos, as if searching for something hidden in their motion. "Mikhail stayed with me after that. We were their favorites."

"'Favorites,' sure," Mikhail scoffed, crossing his arms. "But I was out after a month."

"And me?" Ivan asked.

Mikhail hesitated before answering. "Six months. It took six months until your father found us."

"Six months. It felt like six centuries. When I couldn't take any more, they used me to summon a devil. I wonder... what were they trying to achieve?"

"Does it even matter?" Mikhail chuckled.

"No," Ivan admitted, the faintest smirk flickering across his lips before disappearing. His fists clenched, and the glow of his tattoos shattered like shards of light.

"You called it madness, Pendragon Princess."

Gwenyra's gaze shifted to Ivan. He turned to meet her eyes—dark and glistening—and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

"It is madness," Ivan said quietly. "Mine."

He stepped closer. Reaching out, he took Gwenyra's cross gently into his palm, cradling it as though it were fragile.

"I will spread Seraphiel's faith across this world," he whispered, "even if it means reducing every last country to ash. And I will slaughter every man, woman, and child who dares to stand in my way."

"...!"

Gwenyra's breath froze as she stared into Ivan's black eyes. For a brief moment, she glimpsed the endless void behind them—bottomless, consuming. This wasn't cruelty or ambitions, she realized. It was something far beyond that.

He raised his gaze, his eyes meeting hers.

"May Seraphiel bless us with her light."