Why Am I The Villain?! Reincarnated in My Favorite Novel-Chapter 53: Scars of Fate

"Proof?" Nero repeated, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Fine."

He stood up. With a slow gesture, he snapped his fingers. A bluish glow flooded the room.

"The Gates of the Otherworld," Nero murmured. "Seven in total. The first will open in six years, on the outskirts of Northland."

A holographic map materialized in the air, hovering between them. Glowing red dots pulsed on the projection, marking precise locations on a world map.

"I’ve had to identify the seven rifts," Nero continued. "It’s still rough, but this is approximately where and when the Gates will open."

Darius stepped closer. He studied the locations with cold scrutiny, his burning eyes narrowed in skepticism. Then, a harsh chuckle escaped his lips.

"Guesses," he growled, crossing his arms. "You think you’ll impress me with lights and coordinates?"

Nero’s smile widened, almost taunting.

"In that case, what if I said Akh’lazag," he replied calmly. "A scout leader from the Otherworld. You’ve fought him before. He left you that scar."

He pointed to Darius’s left cheek, where a claw-shaped mark glowed faintly, barely visible in the flickering light of the room. Darius instinctively touched his face, his fingers brushing the scar. His expression shifted from mocking amusement to palpable wariness. His eyes narrowed.

"How do you know that?" he asked, his voice low, almost a growl.

Nero didn’t answer right away. He held Darius’s gaze, his smile unwavering.

Darius took a step forward, his aura intensifying. The heat in the room spiked, making the wooden furniture creak.

"I asked you a question, Zeref," Darius pressed, his voice sharp as a blade. "Are you really Zeref? Or are you something else?"

Klein, unable to hold back any longer, stepped in.

"Master doesn’t have to answer your—!"

A slap cut him off mid-sentence. The impact sent the young boy crashing into the opposite wall, his body hitting with a sharp crack. He slid to the floor, dazed. Plaster fragments fell around him as he collapsed, breathless.

Nero moved to respond, but before he could speak, Darius grabbed him by the throat, his burning fingers digging into Nero’s flesh. The heat was unbearable, a mix of pain and raw power. Nero grimaced, but his eyes stayed locked on Darius, showing no trace of fear.

"How do you know about the demon?" Darius growled, his face inches from Nero’s. "You’re one of them, aren’t you? A demon in disguise, playing human to manipulate us? You took Zeref’s name to lure me, didn’t you?"

Despite the pain, Nero managed a smile.

"If... that were true... you’d have sensed it already... wouldn’t you? I’m just giving you the proof you asked for, Darius. A reason to trust me."

Darius’s grip tightened, wisps of smoke rising from Nero’s neck.

"Explain."

"I know... because I see the future."

Darius let out a dry, scornful laugh.

"Bullshit!" he spat. "You expect me to buy that? Visions? Prophecies? You’re mocking me!"

He raised his other hand, a flame igniting at his fingertips, ready to consume Nero. But before he could strike, a pulsing black orb shot out of nowhere and hit Darius square in the chest. The impact sent him crashing through the room, his fiery body carving a gouge in the concrete wall.

Klein, standing where he’d fallen, his eyes black and gleaming like obsidian, pointed a trembling hand at Darius.

"I’ll... kill you..." he gasped. "I’ll... kill you... I’ll... kill you..."

Nero, on his knees, clutching his burned neck, reached out toward his disciple.

"Klein... stop..."

But the boy wasn’t listening. Black orbs formed around him, sucking in light and air. The room shook, cracks zigzagging across the walls.

Darius rose, debris falling from his shoulders. His smile was predatory.

"Interesting..."

In a flash, he was in front of Klein, grabbing the boy by the throat. The black orbs fizzled out, snuffed by the heat radiating from Darius.

"You’ve got guts, kid," he said as Klein struggled, eyes bulging. "But your little trick..."

He shook Klein like a ragdoll, the boy’s face turning blue.

"...is child’s play."

Klein clawed at the air, but his body weakened rapidly. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious, when Darius released him, letting him drop to the floor with a sneer.

"You’ve got a ticking time bomb there," Darius said to Nero.

Nero, still on the ground, coughed weakly, pressing a hand to his reddened neck.

"Did you... kill him?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Darius chuckled.

"I’m not cruel enough to kill a kid, Zeref. Just put him to sleep. But your boy’s damn annoying."

He turned to Nero, his gaze piercing.

"As for your nonsense about the future, I don’t care. You can claim to see whatever you want—it doesn’t change anything."

Nero, despite the pain, stood slowly, his eyes glinting with defiance.

"If you don’t believe me, why hesitate to kill me, then?"

Darius stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel, his aura dimming slightly, like a fire settling. He paused at the door, casting one last glance at Nero.

"I’ll be back," he said. "Survive until then."

And he was gone, leaving behind a lingering wave of heat that made the walls creak.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Servants, who had stayed back until now, approached cautiously. Nero waved them over, exhausted.

"Take care of him," he murmured.

The servants obeyed, gently lifting the unconscious boy and carrying him to an adjacent room. Nero collapsed onto the couch, his hand brushing his still-painful neck. He frowned, staring at an invisible point.

"I hate fate," he muttered, his voice laced with deep bitterness.

Nero sat on the couch, head slightly tilted, fingers slowly tracing his throat. He let his hand fall, the air still trembling from the confrontation.

’He’s too strong.’

The thought snapped in his mind like a whip.

’I survived... but at what cost?’

His brows furrowed as he stared at the cracks in the ceiling.

’I just threw the final arc in his face to save my skin.’ He clenched his fist on his knee. ’All of that was supposed to come much later. I spilled everything. Everything. Just to stay alive.’

He stood slowly, back straight, legs still numb. A servant approached softly, holding a tray. Steaming amber tea rippled in a silver cup.

"Master..."

He took the cup with a hesitant hand. He inhaled the scent. Ginger. Sage. A hint of lemongrass.

He brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. The scalding liquid burned down his throat. When he set the cup down, his hands barely trembled. Barely.

’I should’ve seen this coming.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ’I spent months planning everything. Mapping scenarios, building safety margins. Calculating risks. And yet...’

His gaze drifted to the door Darius had passed through.

Nero stood slowly, his breath short. He walked to the window. Outside, night was falling.

He leaned slightly, pressing his forehead against the cold glass.

’To think I believed surpassing Zeref would be enough. I studied his mistakes, fixed his lack of foresight, gained power at an absurd rate... and yet.’

He pressed a hand to the glass, fingers tense.

’I’m no match for him. Not now.’

He took a deep breath, swallowing the humiliation rising in his throat like acid. He clenched his jaw.

’Doesn’t matter. Brute strength isn’t everything.’

He turned from the window and sat back on the couch. He grabbed the now-lukewarm tea and downed it in one go.

’Revise the plans. All of them. Too many variables are colliding.’

He dropped the empty cup onto the tray. The metallic clink echoed in the room.

A rustle caught his attention. Another servant entered quietly, arms laden with bandages and ointments. She bowed deeply, awaiting his permission.

He nodded, almost absently.

She approached, handing him a small vial. He opened it and inhaled. A sharp scent of charred herbs hit his nostrils. He applied the liquid to his throat in silence.

’And the Owl...’

His fingers paused.

’Another major problem. Another superpower would be an issue.’

A tired smile curved his lips.

’Good thing that senile Eamon thought of everything.’

He closed his eyes.

’Their attention will be tied up for a while. They won’t see what’s coming. This distraction is valuable. Above all, it buys me time. Ground.’

He opened his eyes, staring at the half-empty vial.

’As for Joranis...’

A flicker of light danced in his pupils.

’I’ll let the others handle it. Hope the outcome matches what I’ve predicted.’

Silence settled again.

He bit his lower lip.

A faint crack in his neck reminded him of the pain. He inhaled, long and slow.

Then gritted his teeth.

"I need to rethink everything. Everything."

He stood abruptly, startling the servant still present. He dismissed her with a wave.

"Leave."

She bowed and vanished.

He walked to his desk and pulled out a book. The writing was in a language this novel’s world couldn’t decipher.

Inside, a large map spanned a double page. Pins, taut strings, tiny annotations.

Nero sat.

"If the Owl takes the bait, their logistics hub will be paralyzed."

He pulled out another sheet and scribbled: Eamon / relay / 6 weeks.

Then he flipped to a page headed: Joranis.

"The civil war’s coming. I’m counting on you, guys."

He picked up a small black pawn and placed it on the portrait.

"I play, or I fall."

Then, he closed the book, hand over his mouth, staring into the void.

"I need to talk to Eamon. And get the second fragment. I’m too far behind."

He turned sharply.

"And this future-reading business... I need to explain it. Or exploit it."

He pressed a hand to his chest. His heart was racing.

His gaze hardened, then he sighed.

"I hate improvising."

He clutched the book to his chest.

"But I’m still alive."

And for him, that meant he could still win.

He closed his eyes.