The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness

After thinking for a moment, Ebul still chose to draw his dagger. He randomly picked a wagon and strode up to it.

The dagger—sharpened and honed countless times—easily tore through the layer of cloth wrapping the wagon compartment. Ebul quickly shoved his hand inside.

On the outside was dried hay for the horses. Nothing unusual.

Further in... was ground wheat. Not fine wheat flour, but something {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} only roughly milled, mixed with husks, germ, even bits of stalk and grit and sand.

This kind of stuff was hard to eat. Once baked, it got so hard it could practically crack your teeth—but Ebul had long since gotten used to it.

Still nothing unusual.

“Was I really just overthinking it?”

The instant that thought surfaced in Ebul’s mind, his expression suddenly froze.

Because right then, his fingers touched something cold—something with a texture like metal.

Not just one piece. There were many of them, hidden between the hay and the wheat meal.

And at the same moment he touched that thing, the magic stone stuck to the scroll seemed to sense something too. As if resonating, it gave off a faint glow.

“This is...”

Ebul went ice-cold. Anything that could make a magic-bearing stone resonate—even with his pitiful knowledge of magic, he knew what it meant...

Arcane-conducting materials.

These wagons looked like they were hauling grain and fodder, but in truth they were carrying arcane-conducting materials worth ten thousand times more than any food.

This was no longer a simple matter of supplies being intercepted. This already involved...

Ebul’s thoughts raced, and he immediately realized how serious this was beneath the surface.

But before he could make his next move...

“Humans are always this smugly clever... and far too curious.”

A cold, ruthless voice rang out inside the tent.

“...”

Ebul stiffly turned his head. In the dim light, he saw a tall figure.

That figure wore silver-white armor. The face was indistinct, but the presence was extraordinary. And more importantly, the skin exposed through the gaps of the armor...

Was pale.

A high-ranking demon.

Damn it—why would a high-ranking demon show up in a hellhole like this?

...No. If what was in these wagons was that kind of thing, then a high-ranking demon showing up was the only normal outcome.

“Why did you have to open it and look?” Sorin said with deep regret. “You could have died much more easily.”

“...”

Ebul didn’t answer.

The instant he discovered the high-ranking demon, every muscle in his body snapped taut. Taking advantage of the demon’s brief moment of pointless talk, he whirled around and lunged for the simple triggering device he’d set up earlier.

The plan had changed. He had to activate the magic scroll immediately.

“Ridiculous.”

Sorin moved.

He was so fast he almost became an afterimage.

Before Ebul could even react, a wave of violent pain exploded from his abdomen. The crushing force hit him so hard his empty stomach tried to cough something up.

He’d been starving for days—there was nothing to vomit. Only foul, bloody water and acid.

“A human insect. What’s the point of struggling?” Sorin snorted in contempt, drawing back the fist he’d just thrown. Against trash like this, he couldn’t even be bothered to draw his sword.

“Damn you...”

Ebul, his abdomen crushed, forced himself to steady his stance. He yanked the dagger at his waist free and stabbed toward Sorin’s side, snarling through clenched teeth:

“Polly! Morris!”

Clang—

A long blade left its sheath. Polly and Morris, who’d been lurking in the shadows, sprang out at the same time. Their coordination was flawless—one from the left, one from the right—slashing toward Sorin.

But Sorin was still calm and unhurried.

Because in just those few moves, he could already see it clearly: these rats that had slipped into the camp were truly just rats.

Not a shred of magical talent. The battle aura on their bodies was only the thinnest trace, hammered out through long, bitter grinding. For weak creatures like humans, maybe you could call that courage.

...But that was all.

Thud.

A dull impact.

Ebul didn’t even see how Sorin struck. He only felt a jolt of pain so intense it nearly knocked him unconscious—then his whole body was flung away.

Polly and Morris spewed mouthfuls of blood as well, thrown back in disgrace, crashing straight into the wagons.

The wagon compartments burst open. Wheat meal poured down like yellow sand burying bones.

The gap was too big.

Despair rose on Ebul’s face.

A high-ranking demon... was not something they could handle.

“C-captain!”

Vick burst out from his hiding place in panic, fumbling as he tried to help Ebul stop the bleeding.

“I... I can do something! I’ll help you—right, I’ll help you!”

“Idiot!”

Ebul gritted his teeth and shoved Vick away. “The plan failed—run!”

“I... I run, then what about you?!”

“Get lost! You useless piece of trash, all you do is get in the way! I’m not dead yet—get the hell out!”

Ebul suddenly regretted bringing Vick. He should’ve left him outside on watch. They could die—but unlike them, unlike these old, battle-worn dogs who’d already gotten their fill of life... Vick...

He was too young.

He hadn’t even married the girl he loved yet.

“Useless! Get out!”

“No... I won’t... I still have a way... Right—there’s something I didn’t tell you, Captain. Actually... actually I was still hiding an alchemical bomb!”

As he spoke, Vick really did pull another alchemical bomb out of his clothes.

That coal-black bomb looked utterly unremarkable. But only someone who’d truly been through a battlefield meat grinder understood how terrifying that thing was.

“There’s still one of those?” Sorin’s brow lifted slightly, a trace of mockery flashing through his eyes.

He couldn’t even be bothered to say another word to these insects. His body blurred—he was about to—

“Hm?”

Sorin abruptly stopped. He lowered his head and saw two hands slick with blood reaching out from the wheat meal, clamping down hard around his ankle.

Those hands—shattered by the recoil just now—were mangled badly enough that white bone showed clearly. And yet they still held him with that same stubborn, unwavering grip, as if saying:

—Let’s go to hell together, you bastard.

“D-die!”

Seizing that brief chance, Vick’s eyes turned bloodshot. He aimed the alchemical bomb at Sorin and hurled it with all his strength.

Boom—

That ear-splitting explosion rang out for the fourth time in this camp. Scorching air swept outward, ripping the entire tent apart.

A gale wrapped in yellow sand slammed into Vick’s face. He swayed as he climbed up from the ground, staring into the place choked with smoke and dust, and suddenly let out a bleak smile.

“I... I did it. Captain, did you see? I did it.”

“...”

Ebul also got up, staring there in silence for a moment. Then, all at once, he reached out, grabbed Vick by the collar, and with every last bit of strength he had, threw him away.

“C-captain, what are you doing?!”

Vick tumbled again, swallowing a mouthful of sand, struggling up in a wretched heap.

But when he turned his head in confusion, he didn’t get an answer from the captain’s mouth—

He saw...

A shattered long blade shot out of the smoke and dust like a bolt, stabbing into Ebul’s abdomen. Sorin walked out slowly, not a scratch on him, only lifting a hand to brush his chestplate with annoyance.

“You worms... you actually dirtied my armor... damn it.”

Blood flowed.

Ebul seemed as if every ounce of strength had been ripped out of him. He slowly crumpled to the ground.

But he still trembled as he lifted a hand, pointing into the distance.

Run.

No sound.

Yet Vick could understand perfectly—his captain was roaring at him.

The same way he always did when he supervised his training.

Vick clenched his fist hard. His nails bit into his palm, but he couldn’t care about that tiny pain. He wiped at his tears, got up, and sprinted.

His foot had been injured in that explosion. It hurt—maybe the bone was damaged—but Vick still forced himself to run.

He didn’t know where to flee. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do alone after this. He only ran—ran and ran—because this was the order his captain had given him.

“Dear...”

This time, he didn’t pray to the Goddess. Vick gripped his pocket watch.

“Please give me the cour—”

Pff.

That sound—the sound of a blade piercing flesh, a sound he’d heard countless times on the battlefield—cut off his whisper.

Vick stiffly lowered his head and saw a dagger driven through his abdomen, the entire hilt buried in, the tip protruding out the front. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

Blood poured out too, soaking his clothes red.

His body swayed, as if the next second he would fall—like Polly, like Morris, like the captain.

But...

One step... one step...

Vick still forced himself forward.

Blood kept flowing. His life kept draining away. Vick still staggered ahead.

He could feel that demon behind him, unhurried, following at his back—like it was enjoying watching how long this little bug could struggle.

He could feel all the strength in his body being emptied out, until he couldn’t even lift his feet anymore...

But he still had to run. Still had to escape—

Because it was the captain’s order. And he always listened to the captain...

Thud.

In the end, he still fell. The pocket watch slipped from his hand, landing a few meters ahead.

“Wuh...”

Vick finally couldn’t hold it in. Tears spilled out.

He was still scared. Scared of those brutal demonfolk—when he saw them, his legs still shook...

But, but...

Now, compared to the demonfolk, what he feared more was failing to carry out the captain’s order, or... never seeing that breathtaking sunset again.

“Wuh... wuh...”

Vick crawled forward with difficulty, inching toward the pocket watch.

But every movement made his consciousness blur more. He couldn’t see anything clearly anymore—only the faint outline of the girl’s face floating in front of him.

In the end, even that face blurred.

He probably... really wouldn’t get to see her again.

Vick’s face dragged along the ground, smearing streaks of blood and tears.

That hand stretched—stretched—stretched with everything it had, but in the end it could only fall weakly, less than eight inches from the pocket watch...

“Is this your girlfriend?”

Suddenly.

Vick heard a rich, mellow voice.

That voice was so warm that even death seemed to retreat from it.

“She’s very pretty. Very cute,” the voice said.

“You...”

Vick’s lips moved. “Are you... a god?”

After death, the one who came to greet him would probably only be a god.

“Please, great god.”

Tears ran again as Vick begged, “Please... let her be happy...”

“Hm?”

Vick heard the voice turn puzzled.

Then, with helpless amusement, the voice laughed.

“Even if I really am a yellow-hair, I’m not going to play some ‘widow’ series, okay...”

“Your cute girlfriend—go spoil her yourself.”

The pocket watch was placed back into Vick’s palm.

Then he felt a big hand gently ruffle his hair.

A new magic scroll activated. A warm current that symbolized life poured into his body.

Vick finally regained some sensation. He lifted his head in a daze.

At some point, the world had become so quiet.

The howling wind and yellow sand seemed to have frozen in place, subdued by the invisible pressure of the man who had appeared here.

No low-ranking demonfolk chose that moment to howl, either—because there was blood on the ground. So much blood that, in utter silence, it had almost dyed the entire camp red.

And in that moment, Vick finally saw clearly: that handsome face with its smiling expression—and that unmistakable, dazzling golden hair.

Through his blurred, tear-filled eyes, it was as if brilliant light surged up behind that man’s back, driving away the Abyss’s thousand-year chaos and gloom.

Like... a sun.

“Alright, stop crying. It’s okay now.”

Muen said softly.

“With me here, everything will be okay.”