I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"The Holy Continent? Never heard of a place like that… What about you, Cline?" Tonan asked, glancing at his companion.

Cline shook his head. "No clue. I don't know any continent by that name."

"I see…" Merlin's shoulders slumped.

She couldn't understand how they had never even heard of the Holy Continent. It made no sense—unless it went by another name in this country. But when she started listing the kingdoms she knew—Britannia, Lumiera, Aurion—they still drew nothing but blank stares.

A continent having a different name was plausible. But entire kingdoms?

No, that was impossible…

A creeping realization settled in her mind. The only explanation that made sense was that she wasn't just in an unfamiliar land—she was on a completely different continent, one that had never made contact with the Holy Continent. A place so distant that neither side knew of the other's existence.

It was a wild theory, but what other possibility was there? Surely, she hadn't traveled to another world, did she?

That idea was too absurd to entertain. World-hopping was something out of myths and fairytales.

And yet…

Isaac, walking confidently ahead of them, didn't seem fazed by the situation at all. Unlike her, he looked entirely at ease—as if this were nothing new to him. And, in a way, it wasn't.

After all, this was his second time.

While Merlin wrestled with disbelief, Isaac had already accepted the truth. He had considered the possibility from the start, and Queen's apparition in Ivan's world had only sealed it. Besides, Isaac wasn't the type to panic. No matter the circumstances, his mind remained sharp and composed.

Merlin had figured that much out about him already.

Still, one thing bothered her—why was he walking with such purpose? He strode through town as if he owned the place.

"Mr. Isaac, where exactly are you going?" She asked, quickening her pace to keep up.

As expected, he ignored her.

Cline, however, had already figured it out. His eyes followed Isaac's path, leading straight toward the grandest building in town—the mayor's residence.

"You want to see the mayor, don't you?" Cline said, more of a statement than a question.

Isaac gave no response, but that was all the confirmation they needed.

"Well, makes sense. I'll come with you," Cline offered.

Tonan nodded in agreement, and without hesitation, Merlin followed as well.

The mayor was likely the most knowledgeable person here.

And if anyone could help her make sense of this world, it was him.

As Merlin walked toward the mayor's house with the others, she couldn't help but take in the town's pitiful state.

It was ruined—not just worn down with age, but truly ravaged, as if a great battle had torn through its streets. The scars of conflict were everywhere—charred buildings, broken rooftops, and scorch marks on the walls, telltale signs of spells that had run wild.

Not a single house looked untouched.

Even more unsettling were the people. Some sat motionless outside their homes, hollow-eyed and weary. Others trudged through the streets, their expressions dark, their gazes sharp with suspicion—or envy.

Some looked at Merlin and Isaac with resentment. Others with pity.

Either way, everyone looked like they had suffered.

Unable to hold back her curiosity any longer, Merlin finally asked, "Did something happen to this town?"

Tonan sighed exaggeratedly. "Yes. The Empire sent its soldiers to subjugate us. But we fought back… and we won. Though it cost us dearly."

The Empire? Merlin frowned. "The Izhantra Empire… aren't they supposed to be good rulers?"

Cline let out a bitter laugh. "The Izhantra Emperor? A good guy?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Every single ruler and noble under him is a scumbag, if you ask me. He was a Tyrant like the people under him."

"...!" Merlin flinched.

Not because of Cline's words—but because of Isaac.

He was still walking ahead, silent as ever. But for some reason, she felt a sudden chill crawl down her spine.

She instinctively turned to look at him.

Even without seeing his expression, she could tell—he was listening.

Cline, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, spread his arms wide. "But now, we're finally free! Sure, it'll take some time to rebuild, but once we do, you'll see—everyone will be happy again."

"…I hope so," Merlin murmured, glancing around at the broken homes and the faces filled with exhaustion.

Something didn't sit right.

Then, a question struck her.

"If the Empire attacked you… does that mean the Emperor has been overthrown?"

This time, Isaac's steps slowed—just slightly.

He still wasn't going to take their words at face value. That was why he was heading straight to the mayor. But even so, he wanted to hear their version of events.

Tonan nodded. "Oh yeah. After Charentra attacked, they took down the Emperor and wiped out the entire royal court. Now we have a new Emperor—much better than the last. He's given us our freedom."

If Tonan could see Isaac's expression right now, he would have turned and fled without a second thought.

Isaac's face was dark—so dark it seemed to cast a shadow over the entire room. The only reason he hadn't already slaughtered everyone present was the simple fact that this wasn't his true body. His power was diluted, shared with Yvan's influence, limiting the full extent of what he could do. Yet, despite the restrictions, he found himself slipping deeper into the mindset of Isaac, as if he were physically present in his world once more.

He had doubts about what had transpired after his death—who wouldn't? But hearing it confirmed with such cruel certainty was enough to make his blood boil. The Emperor had fallen. The court had crumbled. And now, some new ruler sat on the throne, playing king over the ruins of what was once his Empire.

Failure.

It was not the Emperor's death that twisted the knife in his heart—it was the knowledge that he had failed. That he had let the Empire fall into the hands of the very scum standing behind him. It was repulsive.

"I hope your Empire recovers," Merlin said softly but tinged with her own sorrow.

Her expression mirrored her words—sincere, yet tinged with the weight of her own thoughts. As she spoke, her mind wandered back to Britannia. To the home she had lost. The people she had left behind. Could Britannia be saved, just as Izhantra had been? Could Ivan be overthrown, just as Izhantra's Emperor had fallen?

But deep down, she already knew the answer.

The situations of both Empires were similar, yet Britannia's suffering had only just begun. And Ivan… Ivan was a far worse monster than the fallen ruler of Izhantra.

She clenched her fists at the memory of her battle against him. The sheer, crushing hopelessness of it. The way he had swatted aside her efforts like a child playing with a toy. Even with the power of Seraphiel's Relic, she had been utterly powerless.

A bitter taste filled her mouth.

'If I was only going to fail like this, I should have stayed with Arthur back then…'

At least she would have died by her friends' sides.

But she hadn't.

And now? Now, she had nothing.

The only thing keeping her moving was Arthur's promise—to take back Britannia. Yet, after witnessing Ivan's overwhelming strength firsthand, even that fragile hope was slipping through her fingers.

Because the truth was undeniable.

She had no hope left.

She hadn't even been able to save Unadora. So how in the world could she hope to save Britannia—a land already crushed under Gevurah's heel?

It was almost laughable.

And yet… she hadn't completely given up.

There was still a sliver of hope. Mordred.

He was out there, studying at Ocryphia Academy, blissfully unaware of his true origins and the power that lay dormant within him. She had already sent someone to prepare him, to set the wheels in motion. But no matter how powerful he became, he wouldn't be able to do it alone. She needed to be there.

She should have been there from the start.

Maybe it had been her anger—that had pushed her to throw herself into the war in Dreonah instead. A desperate attempt to lash out against Gevurah. Against Ivan. Against the ones who had stolen everything from her.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed when they finally arrived at the mayor's—or rather, the town chief's—residence.

The building was in slightly better condition than the others, but that wasn't saying much. It still had the same unwelcoming air, as if the walls themselves resented visitors. Inside, a few people were seated, though it was questionable whether they were actual residents or just loiterers.

At the sight of Merlin and Ivan, the men stood abruptly. But a single meaningful nod from Cline had them all settling back down in silence.

The atmosphere was too nsettling. Merlin shifted uncomfortably, trying to convince herself that she was just overthinking it.

They climbed the stairs, the wooden steps creaking beneath their weight.

Upon reaching the office, Ivan didn't bother knocking. He simply shoved the door open, the force of it making the hinges groan.

Inside, a man sat behind a cluttered desk, posture composed, his presence somehow more refined than anyone else they had seen in this wretched town.

In fact, with his neatly tailored coat suit and clean-cut appearance, he looked entirely out of place here.

"Oh… now who might they be?" The man muttered, his gaze lingering a bit too long on Merlin. Her striking appearance had clearly caught his attention.

"You the mayor?"

The words came from Ivan before the man's attendants could even think to respond.

The mayor turned to face him—and immediately met Ivan's scornful gaze. It was not the look of a guest addressing a host bur rather an insect.