Villain's Odyssey: Enslaving heroines, Conquering Villainesses Chapter 14: Something’s not right

"Kyaa!"

A scream of pain.

It was Anna.

Huh?

Azalea frowned and turned—only to see her embedded into the opposite wall, blood trickling down her lips.

What just happened?

He paused, instinctively glancing at his arm.

The tattoo.

It was back.

Glowing.

"Slave mark," he muttered.

Just as he suspected.

Sothing had happened.

And sohow... Anna was now a slave.

His slave?

He wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t attack him. That much was clear. Which could only an—he was her master now.

But he had never seen a slave contract manifest like this. When had it even occurred? Slave contracts didn’t work without the consent of both parties. Moreover, slavery wasn’t exactly common in the human kingdoms—it was mostly outlawed.

"Could this be my blessing?" he wondered aloud.

In this world, the fortunate didn’t just awaken elental affinities—they received blessings from gods. The strength and nature of the blessings varied based on the deity.

Not everyone got one. So just awakened an affinity—or two, at most.

A blessing was... well, just as it sounded. An advantage. A true blessing.

"What happened...?" Anna groaned, frowning through the pain. Her hands still ached—only in the nick of ti had she managed to coat her body in ether to shield herself. The fireball had combusted on its own. If she hadn’t reacted, the damage would’ve been far worse.

Then her eyes landed on the tattoo now burned into her right hand. Her expression darkened.

"What is this?" she whispered. A dreadful feeling began to churn in her gut.

"My advantage."

A voice.

She looked up—into eyes colder than ice. There was no amusent in them. No hate, no glee. Just a frigid, inhuman calmness that made her instincts recoil.

’Why... why am I afraid of him?’

She clenched her teeth, raised her hand again. This ti, a larger, more volatile fireball ford.

"I advise against that," he said flatly.

But she didn’t care. She hated that calmness.

He should be scared.

He should be dead.

She had chopped his legs off! She had seen it!

"DIE, YOU BASTARD!" she scread.

BOOM!

Once again.

Coughs

Blood splattered from her lips.

"Ahh... haaah... No... No... NOOO!"

Realization struck her like lightning.

The mark.

The compulsion to kneel every ti she looked at him.

"No!"

BOOM!

She kept conjuring. Ice speared through her skin, fire burst in her face—

It kept happening.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

In an instant, the atmosphere warped—heat and cold collided violently.

A massive shard of ice and fla, fused together.

She had never done anything like this.

But desperation had a way of unlocking true potential.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The walls shattered.

The building quaked.

Azalea watched with an unnatural indifference.

Sohow, the more the tattoo glowed...

The more he felt—nothing.

Just numb.

He looked around.

The building was about to collapse.

He turned and walked toward the door.

His steps unhurried.

The ceiling crumbled above him, but he didn’t flinch.

He moved with slow majesty—like a king leaving a burning throne.

Out of the room.

Through the ruined living room.

Out into the open—

A house.

In the middle of a forest.

Hm?

He tilted his head.

That didn’t make sense.

Where the hell did she bring ?

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

A roar.

He felt it then—trendous ether.

He turned.

The house was collapsing completely under an imnse magical force.

Again, he tilted his head.

Then sat on the ground.

And watched.

BOOM!

The structure disintegrated into rubble.

And then—

BOOM!

A figure erupted from the debris—

Not a girl.

Not a mage.

A storm.

Hair wild, clothes torn, face twisted in fury—she looked utterly deranged.

"Well, what do you know," he muttered. "She learned flight magic in under a minute."

She hovered, searching—then her gaze locked onto him.

"I WILL KILL YOU! EVEN IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!"

In a single, desperate instant, a colossal sphere ford—

Blue, gold, red—ether flaring wildly from her hands.

Determined.

Unyielding.

Ready to end it all.

BOOOOOOOOOM!!!

She shot down—straight into the rubble.

He watched.

It was getting worse.

The tattoo glowed fiercely now, and he couldn’t feel anything anymore—

No tension.

No fear.

No panic.

Just a cold, dull hatred.

And an overwhelming indifference.

"This is stupid," he said flatly.

He stood and walked to the rubble, careful not to trip on the broken stones.

There she was—

Unconscious.

Bloodied.

Bones broken.

Ribs, maybe.

He sighed.

"Why didn’t I die?" he muttered, looking up. "What else is left for to do in this world...?"

Then—

[#$%^&*()_]

[Kill them all. Isn’t that what you want?]

He stared at the symbol.

"Revenge?... Hm."

He smiled.

"Don’t mind if I do."

Unbeknownst to him, his face had twisted into a grin so sinister—

it could’ve belonged to the devil himself.