I Became the Villain Chapter 79: A Measure of Courage

Chapter 79: A asure of Courage

The Duke’s study was usually as cold as a at locker. But today, the atmosphere was different. Zarius sat behind his desk. But he wasn’t weighed down by the curse the way he normally was. No, he looked... remarkably alive.

Elios and Flio stood like twin statues of disbelief just a few paces away. Their eyes kept darting toward the Duke, scanning for the tell-tale signs of the curse, the pale skin, the trembling hands, the hollowing of the cheeks, but they found none of it. Instead, they found a man who looked like he could personally wrestle a frost-giant and win.

"Thank the Heavens," Elios said, his voice uncharacteristically thick with relief. "We know we can count on you, Lord Cherion."

Flio adjusted his spectacles. "Lord Cheriony, your healing magic is incredible."

"Right?"

The voice ca from sowhere off to the side, sharp and far too cheerful for this early in the morning. Cherion was leaning against a bookshelf, arms folded, wearing the kind of knowing expression. He pushed himself off the shelf and strolled toward the desk..

"Look at ," Cherion said, gesturing vaguely at himself like he was presenting a prize-winning stallion at a county fair. "Color in my cheeks. Eyes actually focusing on things. Steady on my feet. See? I’m okay. No fainting, no dramatic passing out on the rugs, no death-rattles." He puffed out his chest slightly, shooting a wink at Zarius. "Turns out, I’ve got more stamina than I thought."

Zarius didn’t answer imdiately. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in a relentless loop of the conversation they’d had behind closed doors. Or, as Cherion liked to put it, the "package deal."

The absurd, suicidal, yet strangely logical request that had been eating at him all night. He stared at his strong, steady hands, and then looked up at the little oga who was currently eyeing a bowl of decorative fruit on his desk as if considering it as a morning snack.

Cherion didn’t wait for Zarius to break the silence. He never did. "So," he said, turning his gaze toward Elios and Flio with a predatory sort of playfulness. "Since we’re all marveling at my handiwork, let’s get down to business. What do you two think about

going along for the subjugation?"

The room went quiet, and not the usual kind. It was the kind of silence that made even small movents feel loud.

Elios actually stumbled back half a step, and Flio’s spectacles nearly slid off the bridge of his nose. They looked at Cherion, then at Zarius, then back at Cherion, as if searching for the punchline to a very dark joke.

"You?" Flio stamred, his brain clearly running in circles. "Subjugation? In the middle of a monster suppression?"

"Why not?" Cherion shrugged, his tone as casual as if he were discussing a change in the lunch nu. "You just saw the results. He needs , Flio. If he leaves

here, who’s keeping that curse off him? Then what? Are you going to rub his shoulders and hope for the best?"

Elios, ever the tactician, was the first to recover. He rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing as he did the ntal math. "It’s... it’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s a brilliant one. If we can keep the Duke’s condition like this throughout the subjugation, the casualty rate would plumt. Not to ntion the psychological boost for the n."

"Exactly!" Cherion pointed a finger at Elios. "The man gets it. Strategic brilliance. Gold star for Elios."

Zarius felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. He listened to them chatter, Elios and Flio already discussing the logistics of a reinforced carriage and a specialized dical unit, as if the decision had already been made by a committee. It felt wrong. It felt like a heavy stone sitting in his gut. The North was a graveyard for well... soone like Cherion, especially ones who looked like they’d break if the wind blew too hard.

"You’re all talking," Zarius’s voice cut through the room like a sharp blade, "as if I have agreed to this."

The chatter died instantly. Cherion turned, tilting his head with a defiant sparkle in his eyes. "Won’t you?"

Elios stepped forward, his expression turning grave. "Your Grace, please. We must consider the objective. This subjugation is the most dangerous one in a decade. If your health falters during the fight, we don’t just lose the battle, we lose the North. Having Lord Cherion there isn’t just a comfort, it’s a strategic insurance policy."

"For the success of the mission, Your Grace," Flio added, though his voice was smaller. "And for your own life."

Zarius got to his feet, moving with that calm nace that always made the room feel much smaller. He didn’t look at his advisors. He walked around the desk, boots pounding in a steady, threatening rhythm, until he was standing directly in front of Cherion.

He was much taller, his shadow swallowing the smaller man whole. He wanted to see a flicker of doubt. He wanted to see Cherion realize that this wasn’t a ga.

"Do you have any idea what the Subjugation actually is?" Zarius asked. "It isn’t a ’cold day.’ It is an entity. It will freeze the tears in your eyes before they can fall. The monsters out there don’t kill for food, they kill because they hate everything that breathes. You’ll be sleeping on ground that feels like iron, slling blood and wet fur for weeks. There is no ’mild sauce’ to fix it if things go wrong."

He was trying to firm the man’s resolve, to strip away his delusions. He waited for Cherion to stamr or back down.

Instead, Cherion just blinked, looking mildly unimpressed. "Wow. Very poetic. You should write travel guides, Your Grace. Really paints a picture." He leaned in a little, a hint of that familiar, biting humor dancing on his lips. "But look, I’ve been through a blizzard when the heater was broken and a drunk guy tried to fight

over a five-cent dipping cup. And the monsters? I know what I can do. If God forbid one goes after