I Enrolled as the Villain
Chapter 46: His Eyes Were Remarkably Soft Said By The Red Saint

Chapter 46: His Eyes Were Remarkably Soft Said By The Red Saint

They ran.

As fast as their battered legs could carry them, tearing through the sacred hall toward the chained doors ahead massive, ancient, and draped in thousands of rusted chains that hung like mourning veils.

Behind them, something stirred.

A heat wave surged forward, searing the air.

Fwoom—

A column of red flame erupted from behind, licking at their backs. Both Silas and Cendric screamed as their uniforms ignited across the shoulders, burning fabric curling and blackening mid-run.

"Gah!"

Their instincts screamed to look back but they didn’t.

They didn’t need to.

They felt it.

The gaze.

That thing with three heads.

The Thrifold Saint.

Watching them.

Its attention was like a weight on their souls something ancient, divine, and furious, staring down as if deciding whether to kill them.

But it didn’t.

Not yet.

Maybe it couldn’t. Maybe it didn’t care. Maybe... they weren’t even worth its wrath.

They didn’t know.

They just ran.

Despite the heat licking at their backs and the weight of the Saint’s gaze crawling down their spines, Silas’s mind remained clear and exact like a seasoned general.

He raised his sword.

And without hesitation, carved a hole straight through the sealed door.

Chains snapped. Stone cracked. Light spilled through.

Both of them burst through the opening at the same time, rolling out of the sacred chamber.

They didn’t pause.

Even exhausted, they tore down the staircase boots slamming against ancient stair, breath heaving, smoke and fire clawing at their backs

Then they stumbled.

Both Silas and Cendric crashed down the final steps, tumbling hard onto the marble floor below. Cendric hit first, sprawled across the stone then Silas landed beside him in a mess of limbs and scorched fabric.

Their uniforms were half-burned, blackened along the shoulders and back, fabric peeling where the flames had licked too close.

Cendric coughed, rolling onto his side.

Silas groaned and pushed himself up, wincing.

And then they saw him.

Standing just beyond the base of the grand red stairwell

A tall figure. Long red hair trailing down his back like a curtain of fire.

Handsome.

Handsome like life and poison.

Sun-blood handsome. Bleeding sun.

Calm. Smiling faintly. As if he’d been waiting.

Radger.

He didn’t reach for a weapon. He didn’t flinch.

He simply watched them with casual interest, as if they were insects that had just survived something they shouldn’t have.

"You shouldn’t be alive," he said quietly, as if stating a natural law. "But it seems you were spared."

His gaze lingered on the smoke curling behind them, then returned to their faces.

"Maybe because the staff would’ve been too late to save either of you. Maybe because mercy still exists in the Saint’s shadow."

He took a slow step forward.

"You know..." A smile twitched at the edge of his lips. "I fought Kael earlier."

Silas tensed.

Radger’s eyes softened not with kindness, but something more unreadable.

"And I have to say—"

He tilted his head.

"—for a man so adept at cruelty, his eyes were remarkably soft."

With that, Radger turned away.

He walked slowly toward the grand red stair they had just escaped from.

Silas and Cendric stared after him. His back was broad. Broader than Kael’s.

A long crimson cape trailed behind him, flowing like blood down marble, brushing the first steps as he ascended.

He didn’t look back once.

The moment he entered, the broken door silently restored itself as if it had never been destroyed.

A beat of silence passed.

Silas raised himself into a sitting position, legs sprawled out on the floor. His breaths came sharp and uneven.

Beside him, Cendric lay flat on his back, chest rising in rapid bursts, smoke-streaked and barely conscious.

"...Let’s rest. Then plan our escape," Silas muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his eye.

Then his Terragan flared briefly a soft, flickering glow before dimming. He shut it off with a slow exhale.

"No one’s chasing us. Not yet. This place must be... off-limits or sacred," he said, eyes scanning their surroundings. "Makes sense why they stopped."

Silence passed between them as the two sat, slowly regaining their mana and strength.

Silas stood first, shaking the soot off his arms. "We should move."

Cendric followed, brushing dust from his scorched torso. The top half of their uniforms was gone shredded by fire, barely holding shape.

"They’re gonna think we got tortured by the Red Line," Cendric muttered, stretching with a wince.

Silas didn’t answer. He was already walking.

But the moment they stepped out

Whssst—!!

A crimson spear sliced past Silas’s cheek, close enough to draw blood.

He flinched back, just in time.

Red Line students were already waiting, spread out across the exit like a net, spears raised, eyes cold.

"Crap!" Cendric snapped as the second volley came.

Foom! Foom! Foom!

Spears launched like thunderclaps.

Silas ducked low, twisting under a spear that would’ve hit his head. Cendric rolled forward, grit kicking up in his wake.

Without breaking stride, Silas reached out and grabbed Cendric by the shoulder.

Mana surged into his legs.

"Hold on."

In one explosive motion, both of them launched skyward

Soaring clean over the Red Line front.

"After them!"

The order cracked across the hall like a whip.

Boots thundered behind them.

Silas and Cendric hit the ground running, pushing past their limits. At the far end of the corridor, the iron door came into view the one they had entered through when this nightmare began.

Their way out.

If they could just make it there

But then—

Zzzt—!!

A thin red beam snapped into place across the hall.

Then another. And another.

Zzzzt. ZZZT. ZZZZZT.

Lasers. Thin as thread. Deadly as blades.

One breath. That’s all they had.

Silas didn’t pause.

He charged forward, eyes tracking the rhythm as if he’d seen it before in a dream. His Terragan flared sharp along his legs, powering each motion.

He dove, spun, planted a foot on the wall then another step up—

Backflip.

A tight twist over the first laser line.

He kicked off the ceiling — midair roll — landed in a crouch, then slid under the next beam as it flared into existence right above his head.

A full sequence like he’d done it a thousand times in another life. Pure reflex. Parkour born from war.

Meanwhile—

Cendric didn’t aim for grace.

He veered left, then jumped into a backward vault, tucking into a tight flip just as a vertical beam sliced through the air where he’d been.

Another laser snapped in just ahead — he threw his weight down, landing on his back in a low slide, one arm stretched out, eyes wide, breath held.

The beam skimmed so close, it singed the tips of his white hair.

He rolled at the last second, tucked into another crouch

And burst through.

Both cleared the trap in a single breath.

One stumbled, gasping — his legs shaking beneath him.

The other kept running like it was a morning jog.

As soon as they sprinted past the last beam, the chase resumed.

Silas glanced over his shoulder.

The Red Line were still coming. Fast.

Their footsteps thundered behind them like war drums.

But then—

"HAHAHAHA!"

Silas burst into laughter mid-run, shoulders shaking, teeth bared. He didn’t slow down. If anything, he ran faster.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Cendric shouted, staring at him wide-eyed. "Are you losing it?!"

Silas grinned, eyes wild. "Aren’t you supposed to be the reckless one?!"

"You’re supposed to be the cold, perfectionist, no-fun, bald-headed bastard!"

"And you’re supposed to be cooler under pressure, Sir Prodigy!"

Cendric growled, winded. "I am cool—!"

"You’re panting like a dog!"

"And you’re laughing like a maniac!"

The two kept running, arguing, laughing, bleeding as if they hadn’t just survived a god.

As if death wasn’t right behind them.