I Enrolled as the Villain
Chapter 39: The Fire Waits East

Chapter 39: The Fire Waits East

As the others spoke, the silence began to shift.

Some shared personal stories old family names, childhood accidents, broken promises.

Some joked quietly, soft laughter muffled by exhaustion.

Others leaned in close to whisper things they’d never dared say before today.

One by one, they opened up.

And then... the last voice faded.

A hush settled.

I felt it before I saw it the weight of their eyes.

Twenty students. Mud-streaked. Cold. Shaken. All staring at me.

Waiting.

Not out of command. Not out of fear.

Out of expectation.

As if saying: Now it’s your turn.

I could say nothing. I could shrug it off. Remind them I was just here to lead.

But I wasn’t just Kael anymore.

Not to them. Not after this.

Not after what we survived.

A quiet expectation from the myth.

And maybe just maybe from the person behind it.

"There was someone," I said, quietly. "Who used to barge into my room every evening."

A few of them looked up.

"Evelyne. You all know her.She’s older than me by a few years. Smarter. Sharper. Braver, in a way that made the rest of us look dull"

I paused. The quiet stretched, but no one interrupted.

A few faces twitched not in disbelief, but something close.

I could feel it.

Not doubt in what I said.

But in the idea itself.

That someone like me someone with the Mythrigan, the so-called Eye of Judgment, the Eye of a god could ever look at someone else and feel less.

To them, I was still the myth. Still a name in their textbooks. Still the boy from the shrine.

But they didn’t know.

My voice didn’t carry power, just... weight.

"She used to shove open the door without knocking. Like she owned the place. Like it was normal. Every time, she’d be holding this little storybook. Leather cover torn. Corners bitten. Always the same one."

I paused.

"She’d hold it out to me. Like she expected me to read it. As if... as if I was the kind of brother who would."

A beat passed. The rain outside was softer now, like it was listening too.

"I never did. Never even looked at the title. I’d just tell her to leave. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with my Eye."

The silence returned. But this one was sharper. Not shameful — just real.

"She stopped coming after the sixth time. I thought I’d won. I thought peace meant power."

I looked down at my hands.

"It’s strange, isn’t it? The stories I remember best now... are the ones I never read."

As the silence settled over the room, the only sound left was the soft patter of rain outside. Not the thunderous storm from before just a light, fading rhythm. A whisper.

Even that soon vanished.

I glanced toward the center of the room, where a massive hologram buzzed faintly to life.

Someone had finally gotten it working barely. Static flickered across the edges, but the image held.

One of the Valery students was seated at the console, eyes scanning the data feed. He looked up.

"Leader," he said. "The rain cycle’s ended. Conditions have stabilized for now. No new anomalies detected. The terrain is still muddy and wet, but the beasts around the vicinity have... disappeared."

I stood slowly. My voice was low.

"Then we prepare for the next cycle."

"Everyone!"

They stood up immediately, backs straight despite the exhaustion in their bones.

"Prepare for the next cycle. Expect it to be worse than the rain."

I let that sink in no sugarcoating. No comfort. Just truth.

"And..." I glanced at them mud-caked, drenched, bruised.

"Clean yourselves up. You’re Valery."

Some of them cough and some look at themselves in shame.

I stepped forward.

"Once you’re cleaned up," I said, voice steady, "search the Stronghold. Check for storage, defenses anything still operational. Cover every floor. Test the comms, the power cores, and all escape routes.

If this place is going to hold, we need to know where it breaks."

"Marlen," I turned to her, "continue tending to the injured. Prioritize anyone with movement issues or deep bruising. I want them walking by next cycle."

She gave a firm nod and moved immediately.

I turned to the two nearest me.

"Cendric. Silas. Once you’re ready, I’m assigning you to a recon mission toward the Red Line Stronghold."

They straightened. Silas offered a quick nod. Cendric hesitated, just a beat then mirrored it.

"Now moved"

Then, before they set out, all of them spoke in unison:

"The Eye sees what it sees."

And I answered softly,

"Then let it become something more."

Myth or not — they moved.

Not because they feared me.

Because for the first time... they believed I saw them.

And they wanted to prove they were worth seeing.

As I stepped outside the base, the ground was slick with rain. If I’d walked just a bit faster, I might’ve slipped.

Around me, several Valery students were already moving fast, efficient, scanning the surroundings with practiced eyes.

Before they could move too far, I called out.

"Before you go."

They froze instantly at the sound of my voice.

"Here," I said.

My eye shimmered.

In a blink, a massive crate appeared beside us packed with the tools and equipment needed for Stronghold reconstruction.

They stared, mouths slightly open.

I left it with them and walked away.

"Was that... the magic of the Mythrigan?"

"I was actually wondering where the gear was..."

As I walked away, my eyes drifted to the rusted walls of the base corroded reminders of what this place used to be.

A familiar silhouette stepped into view.

Marlen. Her short, uneven blonde hair stirred in the cold wind, strands dancing against the gray light.

I slowed.

"Marlen? What are you doing here?"

She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she held something out.

"Here."

It was my white cape the one I’d given to Jessa.

I hesitated. "What about her? Doesn’t she need it?"

"Don’t worry," Marlen said, her voice low but steady. "We found the infirmary. She’s resting properly now."

She stepped closer, pressing the cape into my arms.

"So wear it," she added, softer this time. "Like the leader you are."

For a moment, we just stood there — the wind, the air, the distant echoes of students moving through the base.

Then Marlen’s boots scraped against the metal floor.

She didn’t look at me right away. Instead, her gaze stayed on the rusted wall, as if still holding onto something I couldn’t see.

"I heard what you said," she murmured. "About Evelyne."

A pause.

"Regret’s a clever poison," she said. eyes still on the wall.

"It keeps you too sick to change and just healthy enough to keep fighting yourself."

She shifted her weight, finally meeting my gaze.

"You want to honor Evelyne? Don’t brood over the story you never read—write the next Chapter with her in it."

I opened my mouth, but she held up a hand.

"Spare me the ’It’s complicated’ speech. Of course it is. Everything worth healing is. Find her, look her in the eye—your normal one, not the glowing god-thing—and listen. Start there."

The wind rattled a loose sheet of metal overhead.

"And if you’re too proud or too scared," she added, softer now, "borrow someone else’s courage. You do that for your soldiers every day; let one of us do it for you."

She adjusted the white cape on my shoulders, firm but almost parental.

"Leaders don’t get to choose which memories stick," she murmured. "But they can choose what the next memory will be."

Then she stepped back, bitterness tucked behind a faint, wry smile.

"Now go be legendary. And this time, try reading the damn book."

——

"Are you ready?" Silas asked as he stepped into the room.

His new uniform was pristine not a single crease or blemish. Under the white lights of the base, his shaved head gleamed faintly, like polished stone. A pure silver sword was tucked neatly across his back.

He looked every bit the son of a general.

Cendric sat on a nearby bench, adjusting the laces of his black boots — each lined with intricate mana channels woven into the leather.

After a moment, he stood and grabbed his weapon from the rack beside him. The gold-forged blade caught the light, and beneath the hilt, a small engraving read:

Mid Tier-2 Longsword — Valery Weaponry Division.

Then, without a word, Cendric walked over to the mirror.

He ran a hand through his long white hair, smoothing it out. Then he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a canister, spraying a light powder into his hair until it shimmered just slightly under the lights.

Silas said nothing. He just waited.

A few seconds passed before Cendric finally glanced back.

"Yes," he said casually. "Let’s go."

As both of them approached the entrance of the base, a girl stepped into their path.

"The Red Line Stronghold is expected to be east of here," she said, pointing at a glowing map display in her hand.

"Your job is to recon the area, observe their movements, and gather intelligence. Don’t engage. If they spot you, retreat immediately. I’ll send the full map to your watch."

"Got it," Silas replied.

Cendric gave a nod.

As the two of them stepped outside, their boots splashed lightly against the rain-slicked floor.

Then a Valery student approached, eyes on Cendric.

"Sir Cendric," she called, "if something happens while you’re gone like another beast surge what do we prioritize?"

Cendric didn’t miss a beat.

"Protect the Stronghold tech first —comms, power lines, anything critical. And don’t face the beasts head-on. Use ranged attacks if possible. Keep them off the walls."

The student nodded with visible relief. "Yes, sir."

Cendric and Silas exited through the outer gates of the Stronghold, the cold metal hissing shut behind them.

Without a word, they jumped leaping across the flooded terrain and landing on the elevated slope that led into the forest.

The trees swallowed them almost immediately, and within moments, they were moving fast, silent, efficient. Like dark shadows threading through the mist.

After a stretch of silence, Cendric spoke.

"So," he said casually, "how did it feel? Meeting Kael?"

Silas glanced at him, then looked forward again, eyes scanning the terrain ahead.

"He’s... different," he said after a moment. "Not like the reports. Or the things the other students in class whisper about him."

"I know, right?" Cendric replied, his voice carrying a faint note of relief. "He’s not what I expected either."

After a while, Cendric spoke.

"So, what’s it like? Being the general’s son?"

Silas’s brow twitched. "Strange question coming from you, Cendric. Your mother has more political power than half the Council."

"Sure," Cendric said. "But she wins wars with words. Your father wins them with steel. There’s a difference."

Silas didn’t reply.

Cendric continued, voice easy, but with an edge.

"Sometimes I think people like us were born into the story already written. Like we’re just filling in the Chapters. Perfect sons of perfect bloodlines."

Silas glanced at him, unreadable. "Is that what you think Kael is? Another perfect son?"

"I think..." Cendric hesitated, then smiled faintly. "I think Kael broke his story. And now everyone’s watching to see if he writes something better... or something worse."

Silas was quiet for a while. His boots moved steadily across the forest floor, but his voice came softer.

"That’s the difference between him and us."

"Oh?" Cendric asked.

"He’s not just changing his story," Silas said. "He’s changing the future. Like he’s... shifting the fate of everything around him."

Cendric glanced at him.

"I wish I could do that," Silas added. "See what he sees. Whatever path he’s walking—it’s not the one the Council gave him. And somehow, that’s starting to matter."

A gust of wind rustled the trees.

"Valery’s changing," Silas said quietly. "And maybe... so am I."

For a while, only the sound of leaves brushing against their uniform filled the silence.

The forest felt heavier than before. Not from danger, but from the weight of things neither of them had ever said aloud.

Then Cendric let out a breath—half a laugh, half a sigh.

"I wish I could break the story too, you know?" Cendric said, brushing a branch aside as they moved through the forest. "I always wanted to be a clown. Just... making jokes. Laughing. Making people laugh."

He gave a short laugh himself a bit hollow.

"But can you imagine it? The child of an elder, earning pennies in a back alley tent? Face painted like a fool."

Silas didn’t respond.

Cendric kept walking, boots sinking slightly into the wet earth. "People like us we don’t get to be jokes. We’re born serious. Born with ranks tied to our names before we could even walk."

He paused. Then smirked.

"Sometimes I think I’d be better at juggling than swordplay anyway."

The silence between them settled into something heavy.

Then the trees opened and the world turned red.

Both of them halted at the edge of the target zone.

As they closed in, they moved silently, concealing their presence behind the thick underbrush. Shadows swallowed their outlines as they crouched low on a ridge overlooking the enemy stronghold.

Without a word, they activated their Eyes.

And then, they saw it.

Red.

All red.