Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

I didn't want promises.

I wanted revenge.

But revenge was currently difficult, given that my body had apparently decided to resign itself entirely from my service, leaving me lying helpless on a cold stone floor, bones fractured, muscles bruised, and my pride thoroughly trampled beneath Azael's crimson heels.

My mind raged against the silent cage that held me still, frustration a physical ache that pulsed through my veins. The stone pressed cold against my cheek, each shallow breath a painful reminder of the powerlessness I despised. I'd once thought myself strong capable even but now my body was a puppet, tangled in the threads of someone else's cruel design.

Yet even in this humiliating defeat, the embers of rebellion still smoldered fiercely deep inside me, waiting for the right moment to ignite. As long as I could still think, I could fight even if only in my mind, even if it meant clawing at this invisible barrier until my will alone shattered it into dust.

[You know,] the system said gently, breaking the silence in my thoughts like a cautious knock at a fragile door, [for someone who claims not to want promises, you're sure making a lot of dramatic internal declarations.]

I mentally scowled. You're not helping.

[Actually, I'm the only one helping right now,] the system corrected dryly. [And since we're being realistic vengeance usually requires working limbs. Preferably intact ribs, too.]

Again, I growled internally, not helping.

The system sighed theatrically inside my head. [I've been running calculations while you've been indulging in your tragic heroine monologue. We need to focus on practical steps—like figuring out how to slowly unravel Azael's control without triggering alarms.]

Can we do it faster?

[Not unless you want to spontaneously combust. That'd be very messy, and extremely inconvenient for both of us.]

My frustration deepened. The silence of the chamber around me stretched painfully, broken only by the steady drip of water somewhere in the darkness and the soft scrape of stone against stone as tiny pebbles shifted beneath my unmoving body.

Minutes passed each one slow, excruciating, filled with the steady, throbbing ache that radiated from every corner of my battered body. Eventually, I managed to breathe more evenly, my thoughts sharpening with renewed determination. If patience was required, then patience I would muster, even if every heartbeat tasted of bitterness and defeat.

But still, a deeper fear gnawed relentlessly at my thoughts Enara. The idea of her drifting further from me, of that ridiculous glowing hero weaving himself into her heart, set my blood boiling with helpless jealousy and rage.

She's mine, I thought fiercely. Mine alone.

[Careful there, possessive one,] the system said lightly. [You sound a bit villainous right now.]

I'm literally the villain right now.

[Touché.]

I exhaled slowly, focusing on calming the storm of feelings raging inside. So, your brilliant plan?

[The spell holding you is anchored deep within your core energy. Think of it as a series of locks nested within each other. To break them, we must dismantle each layer carefully without causing a magical backlash. It's tedious, delicate, and will take significant time especially because Azael's magic is intricately woven with your own.]

How do we begin?

[Very carefully. And secretly. If Azael senses even the slightest shift, she'll reinforce the bindings, making them nearly impossible to break.]

Great. I couldn't even properly plot revenge without sneaking around inside my own mind. This whole hero-villain dynamic was becoming increasingly less appealing.

But at least it was a start. A tiny sliver of hope I desperately needed.

The chamber remained dark, silent, oppressive. I couldn't move to change my position, couldn't ease the pressure against my aching bones. Yet despite everything, my resolve strengthened gradually, fortified by the quiet, stubborn defiance that had always carried me through even when logic and circumstance dictated surrender.

I would endure. And when the moment came, I would strike back.

Eventually, I managed to focus my scattered thoughts into something resembling coherent strategy. Show me where to begin.

[Good. I'll guide you step by step. First, focus inward find the threads of power that feel foreign to you. They'll feel dark, invasive, colder than your natural magic. Trace them slowly, delicately.]

I obeyed silently, closing my mental eyes and reaching deep within, sorting carefully through the tangled web of magic that suffused every part of me. My own magic was familiar warm, vibrant, tinged with shades of amber and emerald. But woven around it were darker strands, pulsing coldly with Azael's sinister power, threaded meticulously like poison through my veins.

Carefully, painstakingly, I brushed against one of the foreign strands, recoiling instantly at the jarring sensation of ice and emptiness it radiated.

Found one.

[Perfect. Now, isolate it gently, like unraveling a thread from a tangled skein of silk.]

Slowly, meticulously, I began pulling at the thread, teasing it apart from my own essence with deliberate patience. It was a maddeningly slow process, delicate and precise. Every fiber of my being screamed in protest, urging me to rip away the invasion violently but the system's warning kept me cautious.

I couldn't risk setting off alarms.

Not yet.

Hours passed or perhaps only minutes, time difficult to judge in the suffocating stillness of this tomb-like room. Eventually, the thread loosened slightly, giving way bit by bit beneath my patient, deliberate efforts.

[Good work,] the system said encouragingly. [This is how we'll unravel it strand by careful strand, until your magic is yours again.]

I felt a flicker of genuine pride, small but fiercely welcome in this moment of bleak captivity. And when we're done, I'll kill her.

[Well, obviously,] the system replied dryly. [But let's not get ahead of ourselves.]

I might've laughed if I'd been able to. Instead, I continued working quietly, persistently, my resolve hardening further with every successful tug at the oppressive spell.

And then, abruptly, I felt a cold rush of power surge through the chamber. My heart clenched in instant dread.

Azael had returned.

She strode slowly from the shadows, her crimson skin glowing dimly in the flickering torchlight that suddenly illuminated the chamber. Her long hair trailed behind her like liquid fire, but her expression was terrifyingly calm far worse than any rage could've been.

She looked down at me dispassionately, a queen surveying an insect.

"Enjoying your rest, little traitor?" she murmured coldly. "I hope you've taken the time to reflect on your many, many failures."

I couldn't answer, couldn't move, couldn't even flinch away as she crouched down beside me, her voice dropping dangerously low.

"Your friends escaped, and for that you must be punished," she whispered, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly against my bruised cheek, her touch burning coldly like frostbite.

I held still, fury and fear mingling bitterly inside me.

"But punishment alone is meaningless without a new lesson," she continued softly, almost conversationally. "And I've decided the next lesson will be simple: absolute annihilation."

My heart seized painfully in my chest. No.

"I'll erase that kingdom entirely. No survivors. No resistance. Just ashes and echoes of their screams," she continued quietly. "And you'll watch every moment, utterly powerless to stop me."

I wanted to scream, to curse, to fight but the spell held me immobile, a silent statue beneath her cruelty.

She stood gracefully, adjusting the folds of her cloak with casual elegance, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. "Tomorrow we begin preparations. Enjoy the quiet while it lasts it's the last peace you'll ever know."

She turned, vanishing again into shadow without another word.

Only once I was certain she'd left did I let my mind finally rage unchecked.

How long before I can move again?

[I don't know,] the system said quietly, no humor or sarcasm now. [Days at least maybe weeks to break it fully.]

That's not good enough.

[I know.]

I felt desperation clawing fiercely at the edges of my control, threatening to unravel my fragile resolve. I couldn't watch Enara's kingdom burn I couldn't watch her suffer, or worse, die while I remained helpless.

[We'll find another way,] the system insisted firmly. [Keep unraveling. Keep working. We'll find the weakness we have to.]

I closed my mental eyes, forcing myself back into calmness. The situation was bleak, bordering on hopeless. But hopeless was something I'd faced before, something I'd always overcome.

Slowly, painstakingly, I returned to the delicate, meticulous task of dismantling Azael's spell. My resolve was stronger now, tempered by cold fury and fierce determination. Every strand I unraveled brought me one step closer to freedom and to the revenge that burned brightly, unwaveringly within me.