Path of the Demonic Villain

’How long do I have to keep pretending that I am dead?’

It had really been a long night, and for Ezio, this was probably one of the most agonizing nights of his life.

His eyes were closed and his entire body was in pain. He could still remember vividly how the events of tonight unfolded.

It had begun with him being called out for a random match that had been set up on short notice, except he was paired with someone from a higher tier.

It was an even more vicious prisoner whom many inmates feared and wished to never cross paths with.

One can imagine the horror Ezio felt when he stood in the ring facing that monster. Truth be told, he was beaten to an inch of his life. He even thought that today would be his last day in this world.

It wasn’t until after he woke up in the cold sub-basement morgue that the doctor whispered that this entire match had been planned by his new employer.

After the high priest had helped with some of his injuries like his shattered ribs, jaw, and fractured collarbone, Ezio had been instructed to pretend as if he was dead and was placed inside a canvas body bag.

...Which explained why he was currently playing dead inside the dark bag.

He had no idea where he was at the moment, except that the bag was being carried by two people. While one held where his head was, the other was carrying his feet.

Ezio sighed quietly. ’They are handling me roughly. Can’t they be gentler? I’m a fragile young man!’

He winced and suppressed the urge to groan. ’I wonder why Doc did not heal me fully...’

While he was still pondering the thought, the bag he was in was tossed onto the ground with reckless force.

Ezio bit his lip so that the groan would not escape.

’This is not how to treat a main character like me!’

Just then, he heard a familiar voice speak up nearby.

"Thank you. You can leave the rest to me."

"Understood. Good luck," a rough voice grunted in response.

Shortly after, footsteps began to fade into the distance until silence settled over the room. Then, the zipper of the bag began to open, after which a hand slapped Ezio’s cheek three times before saying in a grumpy voice:

"You can stop pretending now."

When he heard that, Ezio’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat upright like a corpse rising from the grave.

He winced from the pain in his body as he looked around, and when his vision finally settled, he saw that he was in what looked like a warehouse.

Beside him, a man in his late twenties dressed in a tweed waistcoat over a rolled-sleeve linen shirt and dark trousers was smoking from a small meerschaum pipe.

After taking one slow puff and exhaling a ring of pale smoke, the man extended a hand to help Ezio up. Ezio stared at that hand for a moment before accepting, after which he was hauled up. Then Vincenzo handed him the pipe.

"Congratulations. You are a free man now." He paused before adding with a dry smirk, "Or should I say a dead man."

"Thank you," Ezio mumbled, taking the pipe, though it wasn’t clear if he was saying thanks for being freed or thanks for the pipe.

After taking a drag and exhaling, he winced as he rolled his shoulders.

"If you don’t mind me asking, Signore..."

Vincenzo looked at him with a curious expression.

Ezio looked like he was contemplating the question, but after a few seconds, he abandoned all hesitation and leaned closer.

"Was it... was it really necessary to beat me to an inch of my life? I could have just feigned death after the first few hits. But that dude kept hammering my ribs even after I had passed out! Was he getting paid by the bone broken?"

At first, Vincenzo did not say anything and just smiled. It was the kind of satisfying smile a scheming villain would wear after taking revenge on his worst enemy.

After a moment, he shrugged casually and replied, "Yes. It was necessary."

Ezio’s jaw parted as he leaned back in disbelief.

’How the byss was it necessary?!’

Meanwhile, Vincenzo turned toward a nearby wooden crate, picked up a large leather-bound dossier resting beside his coat, and brought it over.

As he handed it over, he continued smoothly, "Here’s everything you’ll need. Your new identity, along with the address of your new employer. There’s also a ticket for the Imperial Express, some spending money, and a set of forged residence papers."

Ezio opened the dossier and took out a cream-colored identification card. He could see his new name, which was:

"Micheal D’Angelo."

’Hm?’

The name did not sound bad to him.

’I can live with it.’

Flipping through the papers, he took out the address of his employer.

"7 Via Nobili, Grand Quarter, Upper District in the Imperial Capital."

’Wait a minute...’ Ezio’s eyes widened. ’He’s a high noble?’

...Suddenly, it felt like Ezio had moved from the bottom of the world and was now on his way to the top.

All his days of acting high and mighty had finally paid off!

First, he was touched by his God in his lowest moments, which allowed him to be special, earn a Red Divine Skill, and begin his revenge and journey to power. Then, he was scouted to work for a filthy rich noble.

Wasn’t this proof that he was the protagonist of this cruel world?

Heaven itself was practically bending over backward to build his backstory!

"Oh by the way..." Vincenzo casually added. "You’ll be living in the Imperial Capital from now on in that townhouse."

Ezio tried to hide his excitement.

But just then, Vincenzo stepped into his space, towering over him. "Though let me say this now. I don’t know why the young Signore chose to hire a beaten-up pit dog like you, but I don’t trust you. So you best make sure you don’t step out of line, or I’ll personally put you back in that body bag. For real this time."

Ezio smiled.

"Don’t worry. I have a terrible habit of staying alive!"

***

Dante finally arrived at the balcony of his room, then he hopped down from the hoverboard onto the marble balustrade. As he made his way into his room, the device followed vertically behind him.

He took off the cloak with effort and draped it over his arm. But barely a few seconds after stepping in, Dante froze because he could see someone sitting on his desk.

It was Francesca.

"...?"

She was sleeping with her head resting against her folded arms, surrounded by scattered documents.

Upon seeing her tired, peaceful face in the dim lamplight, a small smile tugged at Dante’s lips.

’She must have been worried when I didn’t return and decided to wait here for me,’ he thought, before quietly walking over to his wardrobe to hide the bloodied cloak, then he moved quietly to his cabinet and tossed in the items he carried.

As for the hoverboard, he let it settle against the wall near the cabinet.

After that, he made his way to his bathroom for a shower. He spent quite some time in there washing the blood off himself because he knew his sister had a good nose.

When he was finally done, he wore a robe and made his way back to the room. Then, he retrieved a duvet from his bed, walked over to his sister and draped it gently over her shoulders.

She shifted slightly and let out a soft sigh, but didn’t wake up, which caused him to smile subconsciously.

He then made his way to his nightstand, picked up a cigarette and a flip-top lighter, then he walked over to the upholstered divan near the balcony, sat down, lit the cigarette and took a drag, leaning back as he exhaled.

It had really been a long night.

As he finally relaxed, he began to replay the events of the night in his head. This was his first fight, or rather, his first life and death battle, granted it was against a normal person.

Had it been an Apostle, so many things might have played out differently.

Needless to say, even though this was a regular human, she was still a Tier above him, and not just that, she was a rogue, which was one of the most tricky Classes one could face as an opponent.

Rogues were more proficient in evasive and short distance teleportation magic. They were also proficient in disguises, substitution and invisibility, so they mostly only did magic from Sources that aided with this. Like the darkness and shadow under the Night for instance.

Thinking back, part of why Dante had managed to survive and pull off the kill, was because he had sufficient knowledge about his opponent which let him prepare. Had he gone there blind, there was a chance that she might have escaped or worse.

Well, since Dante could not sleep right now due to the adrenaline, he took a drag and exhaled, then he began to go over what he could have done differently and how he could improve. After all, the best teacher for a fighter is a battle they survived.

While he was still lost in thought, a soft, sleepy voice drifted across the room from his desk.

"Brother...?"

He slowly turned toward his sister, who had just stirred awake. Francesca rubbed her eyes, looking trapped somewhere between sleep and reality as she tried to orient herself.

"You... you took so long to come back, so uh..." She stumbled over her words, making her way toward him with the duvet wrapped over her shoulders, while trying to piece together a convincing excuse. "I wasn’t worried or anything. I just came in to ask about my board... but then it got late."

Dante smiled and tapped the empty space on the divan beside him.

Francesca walked over and sank into the velvet cushion, leaning her weight against him until her head rested against his chest. Dante wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

"I know." He smiled. "Go back to sleep, sister."

He stroked her hair, while she nuzzled deeper against his side, and her breathing slowed until she eventually fell asleep.

In other not disturb her with the smoke, Dante crushed the cigarette in a silver ashtray on the small side table, then he leaned his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes.

Sometime later, even he too had fallen asleep.