A Villain's Survival Guide

Rain leaked through the roof of the abandoned chapel, dripping onto faded prayer benches and broken tiles.

The man knelt inside a hand-drawn circle made of ash and candle wax. A hymn book rested open before him, its pages stained and worn from use. Beside it sat an artificial golden apple with peeling paint and tiny cracks along its surface.

His hands shook as he lit the final candle.

"Firstlight Goddess..." he whispered.

The words nearly failed to come out. His lips were pale, and blood kept seeping through the cloth wrapped around his waist. He pressed one hand against the wound and forced himself to continue praying.

"I offer light in place of light. I offer these in place of divine protection. Please, Lady of the First Dawn... just let me survive this fight."

The candle flames bent inward.

A faint warmth spread through the room.

The man lowered his head quickly, almost trembling from relief. He grabbed the artificial apple with both hands like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Then he heard footsteps outside the chapel.

The steps were gentle and quiet, nearly absent.

The steady footsteps moved through the hallway.

His body stiffened but remained.

A young girl walked in through the broken doorway. She wore black butler clothes with neat white gloves, and her black hair was tied behind her back. She looked around once before her eyes settled on the ritual circle.

"You really opened it," she said.

The man immediately crawled backward. "Wait. I can explain."

The girl stepped over a broken tile and stopped near the candles.

"You stole from the young master and thought the Goddess would protect you?"

"I had no choice."

He muttered, shaken to his core, and yet, as though dying in the ritual were a cost he’d long made peace with. He turned his attention back and began once more. This time, tears streamed down his face, every word raw and desperate, like prayers with no script.

"You did have a choice... by not touching what belonged to the young master."

The man reached for the apple again, but the girl was already in front of him.

Something flashed near her sleeve.

The man suddenly stopped moving.

A thin line of blood appeared across his throat.

He stared at her with wide blue eyes before collapsing beside the ritual circle. One of the candles tipped over, spilling wax onto the old floorboards.

The girl picked up the hymn book carefully and dusted ash from the cover.

Then she looked at the artificial golden apple for a few quiet seconds and grabbed it before blowing out the candles and leaving the chapel behind.

—

Hazel’s POV:

"I failed the young master. He gave me one assignment: retrieve the briefcase... and I failed. When I realized he was still alive, I couldn’t bear for him to wake up and see my failure."

"I first decided to check the Citadel once more, but the entire structure was already a wreck from the raid. Yet I couldn’t give up. I descended the hill, searching for anything... and I found nothing.

"I searched for days and days, but found only stagnant waters, rotting corpses, and the hollow sight of abandonment. I nearly gave up. Truly. But that despair was nothing compared to the humiliation of standing before the young master without the briefcase.

"When I climbed back to the Citadel, I saw him — a nobleman holding the briefcase I had been desperately searching for. He was fleeing with an army of his own... so I waited.

"I followed him for days. I knew he was aware of me, but he never shook me off. When I finally caught him alone, he wouldn’t die... even after I shot him. At the brink of death, he fled to a chapel, performing a ritual... and I killed him.

"I don’t know what the hymn book and the golden apple are for, but it is clear they are connected to the Firstlight Goddess. The young master must understand something, because he was overjoyed when he saw them."

"That made me happy. That smile was what I worked for, though I can’t shake the feeling that the hymn book and the golden apple are more dangerous than they appear.

"And the thing that troubles me most... the thing I keep beating myself up over for not discovering before killing him... is how he knew where the briefcase was."

—

Leomaris’s POV:

Everything Leomaris had planned for the day had been put on hold as he turned over every detail Hazel had shared about how she retrieved the briefcase.

Cross-legged on his bed, the briefcase set on the table before him, he watched the reddish setting sun cast its light through the stained glass window to his right, its colours scattering across the room in quiet patches.

"She said what? Someone came for the briefcase?"

He stroked his chin and thought hard, harder than was sensible for someone still carrying unhealed wounds.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"I don’t even know where Einstein stole those items from. I also have no idea what they’re truly meant for, considering they never appeared again in the novel after the Fall of the Great Citadel arc."

His head was thumping, he’d been thinking too much, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop.

There were three items in total, and he currently held two: the Devil’s Fruit and the hymn, Le Mythe des Quatre. The last was the Taste of Darkness, the very thing Einstein had used in his attempt at evolution and failed.

"Was the man connected to the Crimson Order? No... that doesn’t make sense. Why would someone tied to the cult try to sacrifice the Devil’s Fruit when they desperately need it themselves?"

Sitting up put pressure on his stomach that drove the pain from the wound across his chest deeper, and it had him easing back onto the bed before long.

It was strange, all the same. He had borne the pain throughout the day. Why give out now, of all times?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"Hm. The safest way to deal with something beyond my understanding would be to sell it, but that could easily backfire. The old me would’ve done it just to avoid death... but not anymore."

The dangers tied to these items bled onto him, and he felt it, but if a nobleman had gone out of his way to pursue such things, they had unique tales worth uncovering.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"I can look into the history behind these items and their purpose. Once I understand that, I believe I’ll gain a clearer understanding of what they truly are and how they should be used."

The thought was unclear at first, but then it landed. His entire family was a house of villains, their connections to the underground world running deep.

If anyone could help him find the answers he needed, it was them. He had to start from home.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

He wanted to rest. His mind was already full to the brim, yet something sat uneasy within him.

He forced himself back upright, reasoning that it was simply the pressure wearing him thin.

But then he heard it. His skin crawled, and in that single moment, all thought of his injuries vanished completely.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[ Consume them... all of them. ]