CHAPTER 261: FIRST VILLAIN ACT [3]

There was a long silence.

Neither of us moved, just staring at each other, weighing the other’s next breath.

Then Ban exhaled—slow, steady, like a man deciding he’d heard enough to at least keep listening.

"Alright... I get it," he said.

Behind the mask, I let myself relax just a little, shoulders easing beneath the black coat.

[I’m glad you do.]

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on me, unreadable, like he was picking apart every word I’d said.

And then—

"That wasn’t my only question."

[Of course.] My voice stayed even, almost amused. [I can tell you’re curious. So, I’ll indulge you... for now.]

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not in anger, but in calculation.

That was fine. I’d come here expecting questions.

In fact, I was counting on them.

After all, the more he asked... the more I could lie—and the more he’d start building the image of me I wanted him to believe.

People always think they’re uncovering the truth when they’re the ones steering the questions. In reality, they’re just letting you feed them the answers you’ve prepared.

Ban’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"Huh, good. Then, this might be a rude question, but your master—he knows exactly what my goal is, and he’s willing to grant it, right?"

Oh, this guy was sharp. The kind of sharp that cuts you before you realize you’re bleeding.

[...I don’t like your tone, but since I allowed questions, I’ll humor you this once.]

"...Sigh."

What was with the deep exhale? You’d think I’d just asked him to kill a puppy.

-...This is getting interesting. What are you going to do, kid?

’What I do best,’ I thought. ’Wing it.’

[Ban Frok. You want sprawling farmland. Rows upon rows of food. And, to be precise, you’re chasing that big, shiny dream of ending hunger and poverty worldwide, aren’t you?]

His eyes narrowed. "...How did you know that?"

’It’s literally in the settings book, genius.’

[It’s nothing for the Great One’s power to see through a human’s little wish list.]

"Haha... impressive."

[It’s a noble goal. Predictable. But let’s be real—one you can’t achieve alone.]

"If I keep trying, then someday—"

[You won’t. You could work yourself into the grave and still fail. People hoard food, waste it, let it rot, and call it ’inevitable.’ That’s why you’ve been moonlighting as an online phantom, collecting dirt, staging petty terror campaigns, right?]

His pupils tightened. "...You know that too?"

[Don’t make me repeat myself.]

"Haha... the grace of the Great One, huh?"

[Exactly. And with us—the ones carrying His banner—it’s possible. When the world kneels and He wears the crown, your wish becomes reality.]

"...How can I believe that?"

[I’ll tolerate your skepticism twice. No third strike. Do you think He wastes His time lying to mortals?]

Ban’s mouth twitched. "Good, slip of the tongue on my part. I’ll apologize for that. Then my last question—what’s your goal, and how do you plan to reach it?"

Ah. There it was. The question I had absolutely not prepared for.

[My goal?]

I let a slow smirk curl and uttered a single word.

[Conflicts.]

Ban couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

"What?"

I didn’t respond to him and continue my own story.

[There are conflicts no matter what Era. History of mankind is history of conflict. Before mana appeared on the earth, humans fought each other over land, water, and scraps of food. When mana arrived, they just changed the weapons—but the reasons stayed the same.]

I kept my tone measured, almost reflective, as if I were speaking of an unavoidable truth rather than an opinion.

[Conflicts are inevitable. And if they’re inevitable, then they can be shaped. Directed. Managed. When you control the battlefield, you decide who bleeds, who prospers, and—most importantly—who tells the story afterward.]

Ban’s gaze didn’t waver, but I caught the faint flicker in his eyes—the one that comes when a person is trying to decide whether you’re a visionary or a lunatic.

[I don’t want to end conflicts. That’s a fool’s errand. I want to make them mine. Every skirmish, every war, every petty squabble between countries. And when people beg for peace, they’ll realize that the only peace worth having is the one I allow.]

Zaho Yuren chuckled inside my head, a low, pleased sound.

-You’re really laying it on thick now.

’He needs to see ambition,’ I replied in thought. ’The kind that makes his dream feel small but safe under my shadow.’

Ban exhaled slowly, leaning back just enough to show he was no longer purely on the offensive."And you think your Great One approves of this little philosophy?"

[He doesn’t need to approve. He knows it’s necessary.]

I let the silence stretch, the air between us tightening like a drawn bowstring before I finally spoke.

[An absolute being.]

My hand rose slowly, deliberate, fingers curling as though I could grasp something invisible and hold it in my palm.

[A ruler with power so vast that no conflict could exist without His will... and none could end without His consent.]

Ah, damn.

This was starting to get... fun.

I didn’t know why, but watching the man in front of me—this towering, broad-shouldered farmer—hold himself just a little too still, measuring my every word... it sparked something in me.

The realization that he might actually be afraid—of me—was more satisfying than I expected.

I wasn’t even sure what kind of nonsense was spilling from my mouth anymore, but in moments like this, it wasn’t the truth that mattered. It was the atmosphere.

[You want to know our goal? It’s simple.]

I let the modulator drag my voice into something low, steady, almost reverent.

[We will bring peace to this broken world. Not through mercy. Not through compromise. We will take control—of everything, of everyone—and only then will true peace be possible.]

I could feel the words settling between us like a heavy fog, thick and oppressive.

It didn’t matter if it was a lie.

Right now, it sounded like the truth.

Ban didn’t answer right away.

He just sat there, his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced, staring at me through that calm, farmer’s patience that I was beginning to suspect was more dangerous than any weapon.

"...You’re talking about ruling the world," he finally said.

[Correct.]

"And you’re saying the only way to peace... is for everyone to kneel under one banner. Yours."

[The Great One’s,] I corrected smoothly. [I’m just the voice. The messenger.]

Ban tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "That’s convenient. You get to play the holy servant while pulling the strings behind the scenes."

I smiled under the mask—not wide, not mocking, just enough to let him know I wasn’t offended.

[Pulling strings is what makes the puppet show worth watching.]

His brows furrowed slightly, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch. "And if someone refuses to kneel?"

[Then they become an example.]

That wiped the hint of humor from his face. "You mean...?"

[I mean the same thing history always means when it says ’example.’]

I leaned forward slightly, enough for the dim light to catch on the mask’s cold surface.

[We erase them from the board. Efficiently. Quietly, if possible. Publicly, if necessary.]

Ban’s jaw tightened. "...You talk about peace like a butcher talks about meat."

[Peace is meat, Ban. It’s what’s left when you’ve stripped away all the bones, gristle, and noise. You have to cut to get to it.]

He stared at me for a long time after that, like he was testing the weight of my words in his head.

Finally, he said, "You know... the more you talk, the more I can’t decide if I should be terrified of you or if you’re exactly the kind of bastard this world needs."

[You don’t have to decide now.]

I let my tone lighten just enough to keep him from feeling trapped. [But sooner or later, you will. And when you do... I’ll be here.]

"...Hmph."

He leaned back, eyes never leaving mine. "If what you’re promising is real, I might just be able to overlook the fact that you sound like every tyrant in history."

[Good.]

I let a beat of silence hang in the air before adding,

[Because tyrants are only tyrants until they win. Then they’re called rulers.]

That got a genuine laugh out of him—short, sharp, and maybe... just maybe... a little dangerous.

"I don’t know what to say anymore."

[Well... you don’t have to give your answer right away. I’ll be back in two months. I hope, when we meet again, it’ll be a yes.]

I turned away from him. Not because I was running, but because my job here was done. At the same time, I activated my teleportation relic.

"Wait a minute!"

Yeah, no. I’m not waiting. Villains like me have a reputation to maintain—say your piece, leave dramatically.

"What’s the name of your organization?!"

...Huh? A name? Oh, crap. I hadn’t thought about that.

[You’re asking too many questions when you haven’t even agreed to join yet. I’ll tell you our name... when we meet next time.]

...What? Even I didn’t know what I was talking about—my brain had shut down, but my tongue was on autopilot.

The relic’s magic reached its peak, and a wave of dizziness hit me as my body began to dissolve into the folds of space.

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Author Note:

Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It’s my first novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.