Never Die Villain

Boom——!

The impact traveled through the entire wing.

Ilya looked back.

Nothing had appeared around the corner yet, but the corridor he had just crossed was beginning to change.

The walls bent inward, cracks spread across the ceiling, and sections of the floor began sinking one after another, as though something heavy were walking through the mansion.

Another impact followed.

Ilya immediately started running again.

Whatever Aleksei was becoming, it was moving.

"Everyone out!" Ilya shouted as he passed another intersection. "Don’t take anything with you! Just get outside!"

Doors began opening throughout the corridor.

Servants emerged one after another. Confusion quickly turned to panic once another tremor passed, and within moments, the halls were filled with hurried footsteps as everyone began making for the exits.

Ilya kept moving against the flow.

Then he heard it.

Clink——

He slowed.

Clink—clink——

It wasn’t coming from the servants.

The sound came from somewhere behind him, distinct enough that Ilya recognized it as metal dragging across wood.

Then came another sound.

"...."

A child crying.

"...What?"

The crying was muffled, coming from somewhere behind the walls. It sounded like a young boy desperately trying to suppress his sobs, only for every attempt to stop himself to end with another frightened gasp.

Then a man’s voice followed.

——You can stop whenever you like, Aleksei.

Clink——

——Just tell me you’ve had enough.

Clink——

——Do you want your brother to take your place?

The child’s crying stopped.

——...N-No.

Ilya’s brows rose.

The mansion shook again. This time, he understood that the tremors weren’t random. They were footsteps.

Boom——!

The floor sank under the impact.

———I can keep going...

The child’s voice echoed through the corridor.

——I can still do it.

Ilya slowly turned around.

At the far end of the hallway, something enormous moved behind the corner.

———I’ll do better.

Clink——

Metal dragged against the floor.

——I won’t complain anymore.

A huge hand wrapped around the edge of the wall.

It was covered in armor, but there was nothing elegant about it. Plates had been layered over one another again and again until the limb appeared grotesquely oversized.

——I can still be the heir.

The wall cracked from its seams.

Then Aleksei stepped into view.

"...!"

He had turned into something resembling an enormous knight bent by something far too large for his body.

Armor covered him from head to toe, its plates battered and dented in hundreds of places, while countless swords, spears, training weights, broken shields, and pieces of chain had been driven through his back until they formed a massive, uneven mound above him.

Aleksei’s helmet turned toward him.

There was no face behind its narrow opening.

Just then, something struck Aleksei from above.

Bang——!

His entire body buckled.

"...."

Ilya’s eyes widened, but there was nothing there.

Still, Aleksei dropped to one knee as another invisible blow crashed across his shoulders, denting the armor inward and driving him farther into the floor.

——Stand.

That man’s voice echoed through the mansion.

Aleksei rose.

Another blow struck him.

Bang——!

——Again.

Bang——!

——Again.

Bang——!

His armor cracked.

——Again!

Bang——!

Aleksei took another step. And with every step, the mansion shook.

Ilya finally understood the nature of the Distortion standing before him.

It wasn’t a knight striving for perfection, but a child who had convinced himself that he could never be allowed to fall.

"...."

The Unfallen, Aleksei Dmitrievich Karskin, a Red-Labeled Distortion.

* * *

"My Lady, your swordsmanship was as splendid as always. I hope that one day, when I’ve become good enough, you’ll allow me to learn from you."

Even the younger cousins, some of whom were barely ten years old, had already learned how to flatter the woman who would one day become their Grand Duchess.

Yet compared to the cold and stern responses Anastasiya usually gave their older cousins, she immediately bent down to their height and ruffled the boy’s hair with a gentle smile.

"You want to learn from me?"

"Yes, My Lady!"

"Then you’ll have to work hard." Anastasiya fixed the boy’s crooked collar before lightly tapping him on the forehead. "I don’t accept lazy students, and if I hear you’ve been skipping your lessons, I’ll make you run around the estate until your legs give out."

"I-I never skip!"

"Really?"

"Almost never..."

Several of the children giggled at his sudden confession, and even Anastasiya couldn’t keep her stern expression for more than a second before a laugh escaped her lips. She gave his head another affectionate pat before turning toward the other children gathered around her, all of whom had apparently taken her reaction as permission to crowd even closer.

"Lady Anastasiya, I want to learn too!"

"Me too!"

"I use a rapier!"

That caught her attention.

"Oh?"

A little girl proudly raised the practice rapier she had apparently been carrying around throughout the banquet, nearly hitting another child in the face in the process.

Anastasiya immediately caught the weapon before disaster could strike and gently pushed its point toward the floor.

"First lesson. Don’t wave this around when people are standing beside you."

The girl’s face went red.

"...Yes, My Lady."

"And don’t hold it like that." Anastasiya adjusted the child’s fingers around the grip one by one before turning her wrist into the proper position. "There. Keep your wrist relaxed, and don’t squeeze the handle as though you’re trying to strangle it."

The girl stared at her corrected grip with sparkling eyes.

"Like this?"

"Much better."

No one knew this, but Anastasiya was terribly weak around children.

Perhaps it was exactly because most people knew her as the stern and unapproachable successor of House Belozersky that the sight was so unusual.

Adults received clipped answers and cold looks whenever they wasted her time, while children could apparently surround her during her own banquet, tug at her sleeves, bombard her with questions, and somehow escape without receiving so much as a frown.

One of the older cousins watched from nearby and finally laughed.

"My Lady, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile this much at any of us."

Anastasiya’s expression immediately flattened.

"I’m sorry, but who are you?"

"...Pardon? It’s Mikhail, My Lady. Mikhail Olegovich Volnograd..."

"Ah, Elder Volnograd’s son."

Mikhail relaxed at the recognition, although the relief lasted only until Anastasiya turned away from him and crouched back down beside the children.

Apparently, remembering whose son he was did not make him important enough to warrant any further attention.

"I suppose that’s one way to remember me..." Mikhail muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, My Lady."

"Good."

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