Transmigrated as the Villain: I Will Destroy Fate

Greg started screaming.

He clutched at his wrist with his remaining hand, blood spurting everywhere as his face contorted in agony. The words that spilled from his mouth were half-coherent slurs, curses, vile names thrown at Aura between desperate, pained whimpers.

"You fucking bitch– you– you cut my–"

Ronan prepared to intervene, but something interesting caught his attention.

Aura looked surprised.

Her eyes were slightly wider than usual and her posture was tense in a way that suggested genuine confusion rather than any satisfaction.

She stared down at Greg’s severed hand on the floor, as if she hadn’t been the one to remove it.

"You bitch!" Greg shrieked again, staggering backward. "I’ll– I’ll kill you! I’ll–"

"That was your last warning."

The cold voice cut through the tavern.

Ronan turned.

Sitting alone at a corner table, partially obscured by the shadow from one of the lamps, was a girl with dark skin and striking green hair.

She held a large glass of booze in one hand – though she seemed a little young to be drinking – her posture relaxed despite the blood pooling across the tavern floor.

Greg’s face flickered with recognition.

All the fury drained from his expression, replaced by something closer to panic.

"M-Maren–"

"I warned you about your behavior once before," Maren said, taking a slow sip from her glass. Her tone remained cold.

"M-Maren, I didn’t know you were–"

"Get lost."

Greg nodded frantically, tears of pain streaming down his face as he stumbled toward the exit.

The much taller man fled from the shorter woman without another word, cradling his bleeding stump against his chest as he disappeared into the street.

The tavern remained silent.

Maren stood smoothly, setting her glass down with care before crossing the room toward them.

She stopped in front of Aura.

"You okay?"

Aura nodded slightly.

"I am."

She didn’t thank her.

Ronan stepped in.

"Thank you for that," he said warmly, flashing an easy smile. "My wife and I are still getting used to the area. We’re newlyweds, just moved here recently."

Maren’s green eyes shifted to him.

"That’s a lie."

Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but internally he recalculated.

"I’m very sensitive to mana," Maren continued, her gaze returning to Aura. "I felt the refined mana you gathered at your fingertips when Greg reached for you." She tilted her head slightly. "That attack would have killed him on the spot. You know that, right?"

Aura’s eyes narrowed.

"I’m aware."

Ronan realized it then.

Maren hadn’t been saving Aura.

She’d been saving Greg.

Or more accurately, she’d been saving the tavern from witnessing a murder in cold blood.

If Aura had struck first, the entire place would have descended into chaos – witnesses, panic, guards, maybe worse.

One hand wasn’t much better, or so one would assume, but the tavern was relatively quiet.

Maren studied them both for a long moment.

"So," she said finally, crossing her arms. "Why are two mages disguising themselves as common folk in a shithole tavern in these parts of Xyta?"

Ronan saw the opportunity immediately.

This girl knew something.

Her timing, her awareness, the way she carried herself – she was familiar with this area. All of it pointed toward someone connected to the underbelly of this place.

Exactly the kind of person who might know about demon cults.

"That’s a fair question," Ronan admitted, keeping his tone light. "But maybe we could go somewhere a little more quiet to discuss it?"

He gestured vaguely at the tavern around them.

The other patrons were still watching, pretending not to listen.

Maren considered him for a moment. Then she shrugged.

"Fine. Follow me."

—

Maren led them away from the tavern, weaving through narrow side streets until they reached a cramped alleyway. It was barely wide enough for two people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Rats skittered along the edges, and the stench of rot clung to the air.

She turned to face them, arms crossed.

"So, what are you here for?"

Ronan didn’t waste time.

"We heard about a demonic cult operating in this area. Do you know anything about it?"

Maren’s expression changed instantly.

Her jaw tightened as her eyes narrowed. Her posture shifted as well, more guarded.

"Who told you about that?"

Her tone had turned dangerous.

Ronan kept his voice smooth, unthreatening.

"It’s not exactly well kept. Word travels."

"I beg to differ."

Ronan paused at that.

He’d assumed the cult’s presence was common knowledge among certain circles – mercenaries, smugglers, the desperate people who populated Xyta’s underbelly.

But Maren’s reaction suggested otherwise.

She stepped closer, her hand dropping to the hilt of the sword at her belt.

"Where. Did you hear that from?"

The threat was clear now.

Ronan wasn’t intimidated. She was skilled, but he doubted she was that skilled. Unless she was a secret rank 3 or above powerhouse, he didn’t think she couldn’t overpower both him and Aura combined.

Still, escalating the situation would waste time and burn a potentially useful contact.

He decided honesty was the better move.

"An upperclassman at our Academy told us about it."

Maren’s eyes widened.

"Academy? You mean–" She hesitated, as if thinking through multiple possibilities, then spoke more carefully. "Is the name Luminara?"

Aura answered before Ronan could. "It is. The upperclassman’s name was Delilah Eryn. Third year."

Maren cursed under her breath, her hand finally leaving her sword hilt. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"That stupid, blabbermouth–" She cut herself off, exhaling sharply through her nose. "I should’ve never told my older sister what I was doing. She’s such an airhead, what was I thinking?"

Ronan raised an eyebrow.

Maren caught his expression and sighed, looking faintly embarrassed now instead of dangerous.

"I want to attend Luminara next year. I told Delilah, my older sister, about the cult situation because I thought she might know something useful, not expecting her to run her mouth to random strangers."

"Why are you investigating a demonic cult at all?" Ronan asked.

Maren’s expression darkened.

"Someone... close to me joined them. Then they disappeared. The cult’s secretive – really secretive. I’ve only managed to attend one initiation so far, and even that took weeks of careful work. But I’m going to infiltrate them properly and find her."

She said it with the kind of quiet conviction that came from someone who’d already made up their mind, no matter the cost.

Ronan wondered internally why she was telling them so much.

They were strangers.

Disguised mages she’d met less than ten minutes ago.

But then again, she probably assumed they were trustworthy if her sister had sent them. That kind of blind faith could get someone killed.

Ronan internally thought it was extremely stupid.

Still, it worked in his favor.

Ronan softened his expression, letting sympathy enter his voice.

"I’m sorry to hear that."

Maren’s gaze flickered toward him, uncertain.

"I have a similar issue," Ronan continued. "My parents were killed by demon worshippers. That’s why I’m investigating this. I need to understand what happened to them."

He lied easily.

Maren’s expression shifted immediately, the suspicion draining away as sympathy replaced her prior expression.

"That’s... I’m sorry. That’s awful."

Ronan let the silence sit for a moment, then met her eyes directly.

"Please. Let us help. You may not trust us, but this is just as important to us as it is to you."

His tone was firm now, no longer apologetic.

Maren hesitated, glancing between him and Aura.

Finally, she exhaled.

"Fine. But if you get in my way or put my friend at risk, I’ll deal with you myself."