Episode 93: Disqualified Villain

“You—Mauricio, was it? Acting as the temporary commander of the entire army, I presume.”

Mauricio didn’t respond to Siegfried’s words, instead fixing him with a sharp, appraising gaze.

“…You think you’re strong, don’t you? That’s the kind of face you’re making. Are you planning to kill me and claim the glory?”

A sadistic smile curled at the corners of Mauricio’s lips.

“You see… what I love most is killing arrogant fools like you.”

Mauricio drew the second sword sheathed at his waist.

He brandished two longswords, one in each hand.

His murderous intent rippled through the battlefield, making the air tremble as if a beast had bared its fangs.

“Heh…”

Dual-wielding on horseback—

That was Mauricio’s signature style, his guaranteed path to victory.

Wielding two swords freely while riding an unstable horse was a feat beyond the reach of ordinary men.

Yet Mauricio’s ironclad core strength and exceptional combat sense made it possible.

“Now… let’s hear you scream.”

Mauricio infused his swords with magical energy.

What he was about to unleash—a deadly flurry of strikes.

(Here it comes… my ultimate technique—)

The very moment Mauricio was about to release his attack,

a gust of wind tore past him.

“Wha…?”

Siegfried’s form suddenly vanished from his field of vision.

(Where is he…?)

Mauricio’s eyes darted around.

And then—he saw it.

An arm, soaring through the air.

Still gripping a sword, it traced an arc of fresh blood as it fell.

His gaze shifted to his right arm. Something that should have been there was gone.

His arm—severed from the midpoint.

“Gaaaah!”

Finally realizing his right arm had been cut off, Mauricio let out a scream of agony.

The excruciating pain nearly threw him off his horse, but his innate core strength somehow kept him upright.

“What’s wrong? Screaming like that. Weren’t you supposed to make me scream?”

A calm voice echoed from behind.

When Mauricio whipped around, there he was—a silver-haired youth, Siegfried, sitting astride a black horse, poised with serene confidence.

“Y-You… you bastard…!”

Before he knew it, Siegfried had moved behind him.

That could only mean one thing—he had dashed past Mauricio at an unbelievable speed, severing his arm in the process.

(No way… that’s impossible…!?)

Such a feat couldn’t be achieved by merely riding a superior horse.

Most likely, Siegfried had synchronized his magical energy with his steed, achieving a perfect unity of man and horse to deliver that strike.

The idea that the youth before him could accomplish such a thing was almost impossible to believe.

But he had no choice but to accept it.

This young man’s skill rivaled that of a kingdom’s knight commander… no, surpassed it.

He was on par with the rumored Grandmaster of the Holy Knights of the Sacred Order—or perhaps even one of the Seven Calamities.

No, that wasn’t quite right either.

The youth before him was something else entirely… a singular, unparalleled existence.

“So, what’s next, Mauricio?”

Siegfried’s question was calm, almost gentle.

“W-What…!?”

“You still have your left arm. That’s more than enough to keep fighting. Come on—let’s continue.”

That composure.

That smile.

It was as if he were the very demon king from some tale.

Mauricio finally realized it.

The truth lurking in the depths of the youth’s eyes.

—A chilling, bottomless abyss.

And then, it dawned on him.

(That’s it… this man is the true mastermind behind this invasion…!)

It all made sense.

The inexplicable march, the sudden advance—it all had an explanation now.

It wasn’t King Luverios… this man was the one who had pulled the strings of this invasion.

And yet—this man placed little value on the victory of this battle.

What he sought was likely something entirely different—

“What’s the matter? Come at me already. Show me your strength. A true villain shines brightest when pushed to the brink.”

“Eek…!”

A strangled scream escaped Mauricio’s lips.

Dropping the sword in his left hand and clutching the wound where his right arm once was, he spurred his horse into motion.

“Hii… hiiii!”

He couldn’t win.

No—it wasn’t about winning or losing.

This was an opponent on a different plane, from a different world, a fundamentally different kind of being.

Driven by the instinct of fear, Mauricio fled desperately.

“Hii… hiiii!”

—Whoosh.

A sharp sound sliced through the air. Something flew toward him—and in the next instant, it was lodged in Mauricio’s left shoulder.

The sword Siegfried had thrown had pierced clean through his shoulder.

“Gyaaaah!”

Mauricio tumbled from his horse, collapsing onto the ground. Siegfried dismounted and approached him slowly.

And then, in a whisper, he said,

“You killed your own allies, didn’t you? And even knowing defeat was certain, you still drove your soldiers to fight.”

“W-What…?”

The unexpected words left Mauricio stunned.

“So what!? Don’t tell me you’re going to say you can’t forgive such a cruel man!?”

“No, not at all.”

Siegfried shook his head calmly.

“But… why not see it through?”

“What…?”

“You cut down your allies to enforce discipline, sent soldiers to their deaths despite knowing the battle was lost. I’m not here to condemn that.”

Siegfried’s voice was steady, but the coldness beneath it sent a chill down Mauricio’s spine.

“But if you’re going to do that—don’t run away just because you lost an arm. If you demand that of your soldiers, then you should uphold it yourself. That’s what makes a compelling villain.”

“W-What are you saying…!?”

“Stand up, Mauricio. Sure, you’ve lost your right arm, and your left shoulder is wounded—but you can still fight. Come at me! This is your moment, the greatest stage of your life! To hold fast to your convictions, even in despair—that’s the shining moment of a villain! Show me your pride as a villain!”

“Eek…”

Tears streamed from Mauricio’s eyes—a testament to his terror and despair.

Drooling, he pleaded,

“P-Please, spare me…!”

At that, Siegfried let out a sigh, his disappointment palpable.

“What a shame. I thought if you had any redeeming qualities, I might take you under my wing… but you’re a letdown.”

Siegfried’s criteria for choosing subordinates were clear.

First, they needed to fulfill a necessary role within an evil organization.

Second, they had to possess the resolve to pursue their convictions, even at the cost of their lives.

Beatrice, Fen, Leon—each, in their own way, possessed those qualities.

But.

“You—fail.”

With those words, Siegfried casually stomped on Mauricio’s head.

“Killing fleeing soldiers to assert your authority was, admittedly, a nice touch. But to beg for your life the moment you’re cornered? A villain full of contradictions like you is useless to me.”

“W-Wait! Please, spare me! I’m…!”

“Desertion in the face of the enemy warrants execution, doesn’t it?”

The blade in Siegfried’s hand glinted sharply in the sunlight.

And as that blade was about to plunge into Mauricio’s chest—

He saw them.

A handful of Serodonia soldiers sprinting past them.

“H-Hey! You lot, save me! Save—”

Mauricio reached out desperately, but the soldiers spared him only a fleeting, hollow glance.

And without hesitation, they fled.

“Ah…”

A sob choked in Mauricio’s throat.

In that moment, Siegfried’s sword plunged mercilessly, piercing Mauricio’s chest.

“Ghh…!”

Blood sprayed like a fountain, staining the earth red.

Yet no one mourned his death.

His allies didn’t so much as glance back—passing by their former commander’s end as if it were just another part of the scenery.

The man who once ruled his allies through fear died quietly, unnoticed by anyone.