I Reincarnated as a Noble Bastard, So I'm Seducing All the Villainess
Chapter 34: The Goth Witch Denies Many Things

Chapter 34: The Goth Witch Denies Many Things

When I first met Darius, I believed the aristocracy was just toying with me by sending him completely drunk to my cell.

I remember clearly how that idiot seemed so cowardly and useless... but when he mentioned about the Silver Scar ritual, I started doubting my own judgment.

And now, because of all this, because I decided to trust a sex-addicted drunk from a declining family, I’m helping slaves in the criminal underworld and playing the hero of the story.

I don’t know when I started to like him, maybe when he made that ridiculous appearance in court, using all sorts of nonsense and lies to protect me, and I also have no idea why I’m worried now about whether he’ll come back or not.

He was supposed to be a piece to get me off the gallows, which worked out very well, so why does my chest tighten just thinking about that bastard’s face? We only had a one-night stand, I used him purely to comfort myself and cleanse the bitterness in my heart because of Philomeu, so why...?

Before I can overthink it, the auction house ceiling collapses. I raise a hand, conjuring a dark wall that prevents both me and the slaves following me from being crushed.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Darius will die here, choosing to sacrifice himself for a bunch of strangers and for a person who barely valued him. Pathetic.

I am still weakened from having offered a part of my pact to Karthak, but maybe it’s enough to get out of here.

All the demi-humans follow my lead as we exit through the back of the auction house. Luckily, the scene caused by Darius was enough to throw anyone off our trail, and there’s probably an exit nearby hidden behind one of the abandoned houses.

"Mi-Miss Ravenna..."

One of the feral girls with cat ears clutches my dress. Gross.

"Are we... are we really going to escape here?"

What would that idiot answer if he were in my place? He’s the expert at dealing with people about to cry, not me. I only know how to manipulate them until they can’t take it anymore.

"Yes, we’ll get there soon."

I guess that would be the ideal answer, considering the type of personality children usually show in dangerous situations. It’s best to calm them down.

I still can’t believe I decided to go along with this. Later, when it’s all over, he’ll suffer on my hands so much that will never think of doing idiotic things again!

The slaves come in a line like lambs ready for slaughter, with me being the owner of a machete large enough to cut the neck of each one. Thinking like that, I even feel good guiding them to their death... if only I could use them to feed my dark spirit.

Wait, this is possible. Should I? It would be a great way to regain the strength I lost, it would also relieve my migraines now.

Darius would be angry.

He’s dead. The feelings of the dead don’t matter that much.

Ravenna, why are you being sentimental now? Men are useless. Your uncle proved it, Philomeu reinforced it, and Darius... and him...

What a headache.

With my dark vision, I guide the slaves through a tunnel we found outside. Every second counts here, so it’s a good choice to use this warehouse that kept this lost secret passage.

At least the tunnel is still intact. The air stinks of mold, sweat, and dried blood, but it’s enough to avoid immediate tracking.

Maybe I underestimated that idiot. The explosion up there was too big to come just from muscles, maybe he managed to annoy Karthak enough to drag him to hell with him.

Hmm, unfortunately, I don’t think it’s possible to recover his body, but maybe my spirit can find his soul and temporarily put it into another body or even a crystal.

I stop midway. Something is weird.

I turn back instantly, pushing through the group of slaves to find out who could be following us now. Did one of the Libertarians find us? It wouldn’t be hard, considering how many people we’re moving.

This is problematic. In my current state, lightning and fire spells drain more from my body than usual, and I can’t summon my familiar either. Who’s the damned person who decided to follow us?

My eyes adjust to the path ahead, my dark vision finally reveals the bulky silhouette of a warrior with a spear on his back.

It’s him. Not the idiotic bastard, but the other one, the slave Darius bought, the one who seemed to fall apart at the slightest hint of force due to his body’s condition.

Now, the rebel warrior stands before me, walking like a colossus from a myth.

Why the did he fall so far behind? I didn’t pay attention to who decided to separate from the group, but... it doesn’t make sense.

He’s carrying someone in one arm, similar to parents carrying children with muscular strength.

Wait... is that Darius?!? Should I be impressed? Scared? What impresses me most is how he’s still alive even with no power in his hands.

The idiot’s head lolls back, with disheveled hair, a burned shirt, and blood trickling from his mouth. He’s breathing, still breathing.

"He’s alive?" I don’t recognize my own voice, it’s too shaky.

Victorian doesn’t answer immediately. In fact, even after regaining the gleam in his eyes and looking like a more convincing warrior, he still has communication problems. After two seconds, I get a nod in response.

He kneels carefully and lays Darius against the stone wall. What the hell did you do to end up in such a terrible state? You fought Lord Karthak alone? Even though I’d prefer to believe it, I doubt you’d come out alive against that demon.

For a moment, the entire tunnel falls silent. Not even the tearful brats speak, only the faint, failing breath of this bastard, who saved me from a guillotine and threw me into this role of a fifth-rate martyr, echoes.

I kneel in front of him, shadows envelop my fingers before touching Darius’s body, investigating his internal organs and the state of his wounds.

He will live, no doubt. It’s just a few broken bones. I bet he’ll wake up complaining about the pain and then shut up to walk on his own after seeing who carried him all this way.

You worried me, idiot.

Still, I want to understand what happened to Victorian, the rebel combatant from the Northern War. Whether he likes it or not, he must harbor some kind of hatred for the kingdom’s nobles, considering that region is dominated by barons and counts, to the point where the residents themselves fight for independence.

His eyes are vividly colored now. What he did to this guy? How can someone who seemed ready to kill himself in the cell now look at a random noble with such hope?

"Carry him carefully on your back. His bones are broken, any more force will kill him."

I resume leading the group, picking up the pace. Victorian doesn’t delay in joining us, thankfully.

I don’t know exactly which way to go, following my instincts and heading for what "takes us up". Darius, I hope you don’t die on this journey, because I haven’t even started my revenge properly yet. I’ll be so cruel and relentless that you won’t live without me after this.

The sound of the chains on the slaves’ arms irritates my ears. At a certain point, when we stop to rest, I break them with black flames.

Darius remains unconscious the entire time. With each turn through the tunnels, my worry slowly climbs, to the point where I feel compelled to perform a check-up every time we rest on this hellish walk.

His condition neither improves nor worsens, which is even stranger. Is there something else to this? I feel a "pure" force denying my shadows from investigating in more detail. It’s quite powerful magic for common mages and witches standards.

After a few minutes, I order everyone to rest again. I can see anything without a problem, so for me, walking here is as easy as walking the streets of the Imperial City. The others, though... they stumble, cry softly, and whisper idiotic prayers.

As if any deity would listen to slaves from the Scorn.

Darius is unconscious in Victorian’s lap, who carries him with such care that it disgusts me. The way the rebel looks at him... it’s a mix of gratitude, respect, and something close to devotion.

I don’t like that.

Darius is not a symbol of anything, he’s just an idiot. A manipulative, promiscuous cretin who talks too much, smiles easily, and tries to pretend he knows what he’s doing.

I don’t want anyone to idolize him. He’s mine. My problem.

A ray of sunlight finally hits my eyes.

"We’re almost there", I murmur, more to myself than to them.

Steps sound lighter on the stone floor, there are stronger air currents now. The exit must be near.

I adjust my dress to properly cover my shoulders, but a hood would be ideal now. Anyone who sees me now will recognize my face, and besides, that terrorist attack in the courtroom will certainly be heavily associated with my image.

Not to mention the fact that I fled taking a hostage who has blood relations with Duke Moonlight, who has a direct connection to the king. Why did I take that damn duke’s nephew here of all people?

We climb a flight of old slab stairs.

I push open a rotten grate and we find ourselves inside an abandoned chapel. The windows are broken and the walls are covered in vegetation and mold.

Perfect. This must be outside the city walls, which means I can escape alone with Darius and leave them behind to do whatever they want.

"Rest here."

One by one, the slaves collapse. Victorian lays Darius down with a care that almost makes me angry. I try to keep my distance, but end up kneeling beside the bastard again and placing my hand on his forehead. Fever? Why is he so hot now?

"You need to wake up soon, we still have a lot to do."

Let’s check for internal injuries again... What is that? A pulsation? It’s not his heart, but something inside him that seems to be part of that energy I detected earlier.

Even worse, this thing pushes my shadows away and dissolves them at my fingertip.

"What is this...?"

"Holy magic."

I snap my head towards the voice. This... man shouldn’t be here. At the chapel entrance, the same inquisitor who pursued us through the Imperial City stands, displaying a serene expression that makes me believe he’s ready to kill everyone here.

He has a sword on his back and a group of uniformed inquisitors surrounding him. He shows cold eyes, an impeccable posture, and that scandalous heroic gleam that turns my stomach.

It’s impossible, did he put a tracking spell inside Darius before the trial? But to maintain it for so long, the amount of mana required would be too absurd!

"Witch Ravena, your trial is not yet over, and I believe you are aware of the consequences of your actions."

"Get back!"

"The presence of other people or kind acts do not change your previous sins. Do not resist."

The inquisitors approach, the smell of incense and silver fills the air. The feral children huddle in the corners with the women.

Victorian stands up, completely tense, but I know he wouldn’t last half a round against them even armed with that spear in his hands.

Leonhardt takes another step. His eyes turn to Darius, lying on the ground.

He... seems to hesitate? What is this? Does he recognize him as the hostage I used? But what’s with that worried look?

"What you did to him?"

"Nothing, and if you dare lay a hand on him, I’ll tear open your chest with my own hands, you hired dog."

Silence once again dominates the chapel. I’m not as strong as before, in fact, I don’t stand a chance against this number of inquisitors.

Leonhardt is especially strong, our fight during the escape proved that... What I do?