I wiped sweat from my forehead, trying to keep my voice steady as I addressed the gathered servants.
"Get back to work." The words came out firmer than I expected, carrying just enough edge to scatter them like pigeons.
They dispersed quickly, though I could already hear the whispers starting. The gossip would spread through the estate faster than wildfire—I gave it an hour, tops.
Livia stood there with that look on her face, the one that said she wasn't buying my bullshit about "training exercises." Fair enough. I wasn't particularly interested in convincing her right now anyway.
Everything hurt. Not just physically—though my muscles were definitely protesting—but mentally and emotionally too. The whole mess with Syra had drained me in ways I hadn't anticipated, and the system's cheerful notification about what I'd accidentally created was still weighing on my mind like a lead weight.
I needed to sleep. I needed to think. And most importantly, I needed to figure out how to navigate this absolute disaster I'd just unleashed on myself.
"I'm going to rest," I told Livia, already turning toward the manor's entrance. "Training was... more intense than usual."
She followed silently, her presence a question I really wasn't ready to answer.
Tomorrow. I'd deal with all the consequences tomorrow. Tonight, I just needed to not think about yanderes, obsession, or the increasingly fucked up web I was weaving for myself.
The morning sun hit Qara City like a warm blanket, golden light painting everything in shades that made even the concrete look good.
I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, examining myself with the critical eye of someone who'd spent the last few months learning that appearance could be as dangerous as any weapon.
The white shirt contrasted nicely against the black pants—simple but effective. I'd finally gotten my hair cut to something more manageable, shoulder-length now instead of the ridiculous mess it had been. It fell in what I'd like to think were artfully tousled waves around my face. And those crimson eyes...
"I look good," I muttered, then paused. "Wait, that's not narcissistic, right? I'm just acknowledging objective reality here."
The mirror didn't argue.
I felt this weird sensation, like somewhere in the universe, someone was cursing my name for being vain. I shrugged it off. With SS+ Charm, being self-aware about my looks was just practical.
But looking good wasn't going to protect me today.
My fame as a cooking influencer had reached absolutely ridiculous levels. My face was plastered across advertisements in multiple cities, trending on every social media platform you could name, with fan communities dedicated to analyzing every dish I made, every ingredient I used, every goddamn expression I made while cooking. The number of stalkers and overeager fans had become a legitimate security problem.
Hence the disguise.
The mask covered the lower half of my face—sleek black material that looked vaguely tactical. Dark goggles hid my distinctive crimson eyes completely. A cap pulled low finished the look, hiding my hair.
I looked suspicious as hell, but it beat getting mobbed every five meters by people wanting me to sign their aprons or whatever.
Getting permission from Mother had been surprisingly easy. Riya had just looked at me with those knowing blue eyes and said, "Don't do anything that'll embarrass the family."
As if I would.
The moment I stepped outside the Descartes Estate, the atmosphere shifted completely. Qara City during the day was something else—skyscrapers that seemed to pierce the clouds, streets packed with people going about their business, holographic advertisements flickering with news and entertainment and celebrity gossip. Personal vehicles were banned in most areas, making the streets actually pleasant to walk through, though nobles like us had exemptions from those rules.
The air felt different here compared to the estate. Less refined, more... alive. Street food smells mixed with expensive perfumes, conversations in a dozen different languages overlapping, the energy of thousands of people all pursuing their own goals.
In the distance, clearly visible even from street level, the Island of Vias floated above the massive lake at the city's edge. That floating island was a marvel—ancient magic mixed with modern engineering, home to Reyas Academy and only accessible through specialized portals.
Soon, I'd be there. But first, I needed to clear my head.
I walked without any real destination, enjoying being anonymous for once even as pedestrians shot weird looks at my suspicious outfit. Let them stare. Better suspicious than recognized and mobbed.
Eventually, my wandering took me toward the older commercial district, where the buildings pressed closer together and alleyways carved dark paths between structures. The atmosphere changed here—less polished, grittier, the kind of place where the city's shiny facade showed all its cracks and flaws.
That's when I heard it.
Muffled sounds from a nearby alley. The kind of noises that screamed violence and desperation.
My first instinct? Ignore it. Walk away. This wasn't my problem, and I had enough complications in my life without actively seeking out more.
Then the system decided to ruin my day.
[Ding!]
[New Mission Detected!]
[Mission: Saving...!]
[Description: Save the young boy from the Aura Assassins from Akira Organization]
[Reward: Dark Spirit Spear Art]
I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the notification with pure frustration.
"Are you serious right now?" I muttered under my breath. "Shouldn't there be a damsel in distress instead of some random boy?"
The system, as always, didn't respond to my complaints. But I could feel it—the "Curse of the Villain" twisting even my missions into something different. Of course the typical heroic scenario would get warped for someone marked as a villain.
Still... the reward was tempting. Dark Spirit Spear Art would complement my existing techniques perfectly, especially with my SS+ Darkness affinity.
"Fine," I sighed, resigned to my fate. "Let's get this over with."
I turned into the alley, my eyes adjusting quickly to the dimmer light. The scene was exactly what I'd expected—three men with strange aura tattoos covering their arms had cornered a young boy against the dead end. Their faces were covered, but the skin showing was marked with vicious scars that spoke of a hard life. Their auras pegged them as D to C rank—competent enough to be dangerous to regular people, but nothing exceptional.
The boy they'd cornered wore expensive clothes that practically screamed "wealthy family," which explained the assassination attempt. Political intrigue, family feuds, business rivalries—the usual reasons people killed children in this world.
What surprised me was the boy's reaction. He wasn't panicking or crying or trying to threaten them with his family's influence. He just sat there, watching everything with an odd calmness that seemed completely out of place for someone his age facing imminent death.
The assassins were speaking in low tones, some coded language that my Reader's Eye talent helped me partially understand. They were discussing timing, patrol routes, cleanup procedures—professional talk.
I glanced at my watch. "I don't have much time. I'm hungry."
Time to wrap this up.
"Let's finish this," I said, stepping forward.
My voice cut through their conversation like a knife. They whirled toward me, postures immediately shifting into combat readiness.
"Get lost, kid," one snarled, waving dismissively. "This ain't got nothing to do with you."
"Wait," another interrupted, his scarred face twisting into an ugly grin. "This little bitch has seen us. Better finish him too."
The third assassin nodded. "Fine. Make it quick though. We gotta leave before the Patrolling Hunters show up."
The second assassin pulled out a knife, making a show of licking the blade before launching himself at me. His speed was impressive—enhanced by either those aura tattoos or some kind of enchantment technique. For a normal person, this attack would've been instantly fatal.
I just stood there, completely relaxed, not even bothering to shift my stance.
Aura Enchantment or those tattoos? Doesn't really matter.
The assassin's smile widened when he saw I wasn't moving. He drove the knife forward, aiming straight for my heart—a killing blow with zero hesitation.
I'd planned to use magic to deflect it, but the moment I tried channeling mana, nothing happened. My eyes narrowed slightly behind the goggles. Mana suppression artifact. Clever.
But they'd made one critical mistake. They assumed I could only use mana.
The Dual Energy User talent meant I had options they couldn't possibly account for.
As the knife closed the final distance, I simply ducked. The motion was economical, perfectly timed, making his enhanced speed work completely against him. Before he could adjust his trajectory, my hand shot up and caught his wrist mid-strike with an iron grip.
"A-Aura User?!" His eyes went wide with genuine horror. "But I sensed Mana on you!"
I didn't waste breath explaining. Instead, I channeled aura into my leg and kicked upward with brutal, enhanced force, striking directly between his legs.
"AAAAAHHHHH!"
The scream was visceral, primal, the kind of pain that transcended all dignity and training. His grip on the knife loosened completely, and the weapon tumbled from his nerveless fingers.
I caught it before it could hit the ground.
In one smooth, practiced motion, I drove the blade deep into his throat.
His eyes went impossibly wide—shock, terror, and the unique horror of someone who'd completely underestimated their opponent all mixing together. Blood sprayed in a warm arc as I yanked the knife free, and his body crumpled to the filthy ground with a wet, meaty thud.
In his final moments, his hand caught my mask, tearing it away and exposing my face to the alley's dim light.
I looked down at the corpse, my expression completely blank. Killing him had been about as remarkable as swatting a particularly annoying mosquito.
"It's Young Master Riyan!" The boy's voice rang out with genuine excitement, like he'd just met his favorite celebrity. "My idol!"
[Ding!]
[Serx's Loyalty increasing rapidly!]
[Serx's Loyalty increasing rapidly!]
[Serx's Loyalty increasing rapidly!]
[Congratulations to Host!]
[Serx has become a complete Fanatic of Host!]
My eye twitched at the notifications, but I didn't look at the kid. Instead, I turned my attention to the two remaining assassins, my voice cold and utterly practical.
"I'm giving you one chance here. I want to go sightseeing, and I'd really prefer keeping my clothes clean. Leave. Now."
The assassins exchanged quick glances. They hadn't been paying real attention before, but now they recognized me. Riyan Descartes—young master of one of the continent's most powerful families. The kind of person only a complete madman would cross.
More importantly, they'd just watched their strongest companion die in literal seconds to someone who'd barely seemed to try. The calculating coldness in those crimson eyes promised that killing them would be just as effortless and meaningless.
They nodded at each other and bolted, fleeing in opposite directions without a single look back.
I let them go. Chasing them down would require effort I wasn't willing to spend, and they'd already learned the only lesson that mattered—don't fuck with me.
I walked over to the boy, crouching down to eye level. "Alright, you're safe now. Go home."
The brown-haired kid looked at me with the expression of a devoted fan meeting their god. His eyes were literally shining. "U-Um, thank you so much, big brother Riyan!"
My eye twitched violently. Big brother? This fanatic is calling me big brother when he looks basically the same age as me?
I flicked his forehead hard enough to leave a mark. "Why didn't you fight back earlier? I can feel you're stronger than those guys."
He rubbed his forehead, but the admiration in his eyes didn't dim even slightly. If anything, it intensified. "They used a Mana Suppression artifact in this whole area to seal anyone's mana who entered. I couldn't access my abilities at all."
That explained his weird calmness. He'd been waiting for an opening, probably hoping the assassins would screw up somehow.
[Ding!]
[Mission Completed!]
[Does Host want to redeem rewards?]
"Redeem it," I thought immediately.
[Dark Spirit Spear Art redeemed!]
Knowledge flooded my mind instantly—stances, techniques, combinations that merged darkness manipulation with spear combat in ways my existing styles didn't cover. It would take practice to truly master, but the foundation was mine now.
Curious, I checked the boy's status.
[StatusName: Serx LivesCurrent Rank: C+Age: 19 yearsRace: HumanAffiliation: Lives Family, Vassal of Descartes FamilyFavorability: FanaticIdentity: Minor Villain and Loyal Subordinate of Host in Novel "Saint's Odyssey"Remark: Sees Host as Idol, Role Model, Boss, Leader, and Possibly Divine Being]
Fanatic favorability. Great. So this is 'Saving a Fanatic in Distress' instead of the usual damsel trope.
Serx's eyes were practically glowing with worship. "Thanks so much, big brother Riyan! You were SO COOL! I'm your GREATEST FAN EVER! You didn't even hesitate when you killed that bastard! The way you just—" He made a stabbing motion. "Right in the throat! You're AMAZING!" He pulled out a small notebook from somewhere. "Can I please get your autograph?!"
I flicked his forehead again, harder this time. "You're a weird fan, you know that?"
But I signed his notebook anyway. Building loyalty, even from bizarre sources, was strategically valuable. Plus, the kid looked like he might cry if I refused.
I heard footsteps approaching from the alley entrance—probably the Patrolling Hunters Serx had mentioned. Time to bounce.
I stood up, patting Serx's shoulder once. "Be more careful next time. Not everyone's as generous as me." I started walking away, then called back without looking. "When the Hunters get here, let them handle everything. And don't mention me."
I waved casually over my shoulder. "Just deal with the Hunters however you want."
Behind me, Serx watched with a manic grin slowly spreading across his entire face, his eyes gleaming with something that went way beyond normal devotion.
"Hehe... hehehehe... I actually met him... my greatest idol... my role model... my leader... MY GOD HIMSELF!"
Already turning the corner, I felt a genuine chill run down my spine that had absolutely nothing to do with my Darkness affinity.
What the absolute hell did I just create?
Another fanatic. Just what I needed.
My life was officially a joke.