An Unwritten Story [Villainous Power Couple, LitRPG]

Three days later,

“So it really is in the forest,” Noa said while sitting on the bed. His arms were folded across his chest, his head tilted upward slightly. “We’ve got everything prepared. Are we going today?”

“Yeah, we are heading into the forest today,” Vionette replied.

She was draped sideways across a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other. She ate her honey-glazed pork slowly, her pink lips glistening faintly with the sweet glaze.

Over the last three days, the two had enjoyed their time together, inhabiting the space like two spiders weaving a web. They had gathered information about the dragon and the forest, preparing to venture inside and confront the beast. But—

A deafening crack erupted through the city like a colossal eggshell shattering somewhere beneath civilization’s skin. A split second later, the ground began to heave.

“What the fuck?” Noa’s eyes snapped open, and he stood up instantly.

“My meal!” Vionette hissed, her composure fracturing as the sudden jolt sent the honeyed meat sliding toward the edge of her plate.

It wasn’t enough to collapse the buildings outright, but it was powerful enough to send violent tremors through the city’s bones. Dust loosened from the wooden ceiling beams and drifted downward, while the clay pot on the table began to vibrate, tapping against the surface in rhythmic panic.

The two of them looked at each other for only a single breath—but within that breath, strategy and shared excitement passed between them through invisible threads.

Noa and Vionette sprinted outside the inn while the other patrons ran past them in blind, mindless fear. They stopped in front of the building and looked far ahead toward the horizon.

There, they saw it.

One of the race said to be born with oceans of Aether in their cores, possessing defense and strength beyond mortal comprehension. A race that had once ruled the skies and land alike, bending lesser beings beneath their shadows—and though they had fallen from dominion, fear of them had never faded.

The Dragon race.

A crimson dragon stood among the buildings like a mountain that had chosen to walk. It was twice the height of the tallest structure nearby, its metallic scales gleaming beneath the smoke-filtered sunlight. Those scales were not merely armor—they were like overlapping plates of forged crimson steel, reflecting the firelight that was already consuming the city.

Its pupils were vertical slits, narrow and merciless. Its horns swept backward like curved blades. Its wings—vast and bat-like—unfurled once, and the sheer gust alone shattered windows and tore roofs from houses.

With a deafening roar, the dragon exhaled. A moment later, a torrent of crimson fire swallowed a row of buildings whole, the blaze roaring with a sound that rivaled thunder.

Noa’s lips curved upward into a laugher that was not entirely sane. His purple irises seemed to catch the reflection of the flames, his gaze locked on the dragon that was relentlessly spewing fire across the city.

The prey they had worried about painstakingly hunting down in the woods had presented itself right in front of him. It was a gift of chaos, and he intended to devour it whole.

He clenched his fists and took his first step toward the dragon.

“Don’t kill it until I say so,” Vionette spoke from behind him, a smile playing on her lips as she watched him.

He looked back, turning his head just enough to catch her eye, and smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s not that easy to kill that thing, you know?” His gaze returned to the dragon. “I have a forty-five percent chance of winning at most.”

“Is that so? Well, do your best.”

With the conversation finished, Vionette dashed off in a different direction while Noa sprinted toward the dragon.

…

Burning buildings flanked Noa like the pillars of a collapsing temple as he strode toward the dragon. Civilians screamed in the distance, while soldiers scattered like leaves in a storm. The ground trembled with each beat of the dragon’s wings, but Noa’s stride never faltered.

The dragon’s tail swung once again, reducing a stone structure to rubble as if it were made of sand. The impact flattened the surrounding ground into a barren crater—buildings crushed, earth scorched black, and debris pulverized to powder beneath its titanic force.

Stepping through the dust of the newly destroyed building, Noa entered its field of vision.

“Hey!” He shouted, pointing a finger toward it as though calling out a rival across a playground. “You overgrown lizard!”

Noa stood roughly two miles away from the beast, but for a creature of such magnitude, the distance was nothing more than a couple of steps. Wind from its wings whipped through his hair; his jacket snapped behind him in violent waves, and his untucked shirt strained against the turbulent air.

At Noa’s shout, the dragon turned its massive head. At first, it saw nothing more than an insect waiting to be crushed. It prepared to ignore him.

Then, it felt it.

[Echo Reclamation]

Radiating from the human’s fists was something wrong—a dense, dark-purple energy coiling like smoke around his knuckles. Its volume was not vast like the dragon’s own magic, but its density and sheer presence felt horrifyingly comparable in power.

“Elina, if you ever see someone with a dark-purple energy that feels like it wasn’t supposed to exist in the first place,” a man’s warning erupted inside the dragon’s mind. “Don’t look back, don’t resist it, don’t try to fight it. Just run.”

No… I’m done running!

As Noa declared his intent, the dragon began charging its crimson breath. Its jaws unhinged, and Aether gathered deep within its throat, swirling and compressing into a murderous crimson light.

“Gruzthar vrek, yrmaar kor. Vryndar skael, zytrix morlaen…”

Simultaneously, numerous magic circles woven with ancient text manifested in the air behind its head, flaring to life with blinding intensity.

The battle between two fallen stars began in the middle of a kingdom they were both happy to see burn.

---

Elsewhere, panic gripped Count Fain’s mansion just as tightly as the beast gripped the city outside.

He had expected the dragon to appear eventually, yes—but expectation dulled by repetition often breeds complacency. Each day the sky had remained clear, he had reassured himself: “It didn’t come yesterday, so it probably won’t come today either.”

And now, ‘today’ had arrived.

He wore his usual emerald-tailored noble attire, though the fine silk was now wrinkled and damp with cold sweat. His long, dark-green hair clung to his shoulders as his matching green eyes scanned the room in a desperate search for a savior.

“How much time before the heroes arrive?” he demanded, looking at the butler standing before him. “Tell me quickly!”

“I-It will take about three hours, I’m afraid, my lord.” The old butler bowed helplessly, his own voice hollow with despair.

“Dammit! My people are dying, and here I am, just sitting here!” Fain roared, sweeping his arm across the desk.

Stacks of unread ledgers, inkwells, and emergency decrees went flying, scattering across the floor in a mess of parchment and spilling black ink, as the butler stepped forward, fruitlessly raising his hands to calm him.

“Is there really no one else?!”

---

Meanwhile, Vionette sprinted down the very same mansion’s corridors. She held her sheathed sword, Crimson Night, firmly by the scabbard, keeping her breathing controlled despite the strain on her fragile body.

She moved like a silver streak through the hallways of marble and panic, the terrified servants scattering out of her path without even registering who she was.

How many more minutes?

[15 minutes of running is possible.]

Hah! That’s more than enough. She inhaled slowly. Activate [Hyper-Calculation] and [Mind Fortress].

[Hyper-Calculation]

[Mind Fortress]

Hmm…? She had activated the two skills, yet felt only a marginal difference. Hey… why does [Hyper-Calculation] have such a low effect? Are Rare-class skills really this ass?

[Negative. Host’s natural cognitive processing is already on par with Hyper-Calculation. Therefore, the boost provided is significantly less noticeable than it would be for a normal individual.]

Whatever. Put all priority into regulating my Aether to hold out stamina, and use my skills when I say. I’ll handle the calculations myself.

[Objective updated!]

Vionette constantly mapped the mansion’s interior as she hunted for the Count’s office. By blending the visual data she gathered on the fly with the architectural probabilities of standard noble estates, she constructed multiple rough, three-dimensional blueprints that rapidly updated and shifted inside her mind.

B432 running through n90 hall holding G21, c2855 compared with (056) changes map#592 layout. System, activate [Sovereign] on F9933 in three seconds. Turn to c7526 to avoid S21. Currently best fitting is model map#382…

Simultaneously, she calculated where the fleeing servants would cross her path, assessed which guards might obstruct her advance, and charted the most efficient route toward the Count’s chamber.

…

Vionette darted forward, weaving through the chaos. She pivoted left and right with the precision of a phantom. Infiltrating the estate was almost laughably easy with the entire household paralyzed by panic.

And finally—

This must be it! Deactivate everything else and focus fully on strength.

[Understood!]

She reached the oak doors ahead and drew Crimson Night. The weapon felt like an extension of herself, its stark white metal catching the reflection of the orange fires raging outside the windows as she unsheathed it.

The drawn steel sang a high, lonely note, slicing cleanly through the oak door’s locking mechanism.

Vionette didn’t bother knocking. After severing the lock, she kicked the double doors open with a resounding crash.

The Count’s eyes snapped toward the entrance immediately, while the butler instinctively stepped in front of his lord and drew his rapier.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” the butler demanded, his grip tightening on the hilt.

Before replying, Vionette took a slow breath and sheathed her sword with a clean click, signaling that she had no immediate hostile intent. Straightening her posture, she locked her crimson eyes onto Fain.

“That is hardly the priority right now, is it, Count Fain?” Her voice was slick and calm—far too calm given the chaos outside.

What is this? Who is this woman? Fain’s mind raced as he stared at the intruder.

The Count and his butler were already consumed by panic that their reasoning had slowed to a crawl. They stared at her for a moment, quickly realizing she didn’t even possess any aura left.

Clinging to the hope of finding a light at the end of this dark tunnel, Fain swallowed bitterly and spoke.

“What do you mean?” He asked, raising a hand to signal the butler to stand down.

Seeing his reaction, Vionette smiled. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped forward and took a seat in the chair opposite Fain’s desk. Neither Fain nor his butler dared to move as she crossed the room with the grace of a queen. Out of habit, she crossed her legs, rested her elbows on the armrests, and steepled her fingers beneath her chin.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, transforming from a scene of panicked flight into one of cold negotiation.

“Who I am, or what I am, does not matter,” she said, her eyelids lowering slightly. “Trust me—you do not wish to know.”

Who is this woman? Fain thought. If her beauty doesn’t lie, she can be called high nobility. But then, where are her escorts?

Whatever the truth was, he didn’t have time to pry. He was desperate to save his city from the rampaging dragon, or at the very least, save the people trapped inside it.

“My partner will defeat that dragon. In return, you will form a Soul Contract with me under three conditions.”

“…A Soul Contract?” Recognizing the term, he repeated it faintly.

Fain was taken aback by the sudden proposal. Somehow, some way, this mysterious woman had broken into his mansion, found his personal office, and was now casually offering him a contract.

A Soul Contract was not a mere promise. Once both parties agreed, their essences would resonate, forming a permanent joint imprint upon their souls. Should either side violate the agreed terms, the imprint would collapse—and the backlash would result in immediate death.

I can’t trust someone just because they gave me their word, but I can’t let my people die either… can they really kill a dragon in the first place? What do I do? What do I do? Staring down at his desk in hopelessness, Fain’s mind spun in circles.

After several agonizing seconds, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to steady his nerves. Opening them, he met Vionette’s gaze. “What are the conditions?”

Good… he’s not much of a pushover, but fueledwith enough panic, it will be more than enough. She maintained her warm, reassuring smile on the outside, masking the wicked amusement practically vibrating in her chest.

“Please get your butler out of the room first, Count Fain,” she requested, glancing at the old man.

Fain turned toward him as well. The butler looked back hesitantly, refusing to sheathe his sword. The two men exchanged a long, silent look before Fain finally closed his eyes and gave a subtle nod, yielding to Vionette’s request.

The butler bowed and left the office, pulling the doors shut behind him.

“Now then, my conditions are…” She raised a single finger. “One: you will owe me a small favor.” She raised a second finger. “Two: you will forget everything regarding this Soul Contract and will not speak of it, even if the memories somehow resurface.” A third finger went up. “Three: you will never reveal any of my characteristics or my identity to anyone.”

A Soul Contract was a vow engraved upon the soul itself. The memory of it could indeed be sealed away, but forgetting did not mean freedom. The moment a bound condition was invoked, the seal would fracture, and the forgotten memories would instantly surge back to enforce the terms.

A small favor, no revealing her identity, and memory erasure? Fain’s head drew back slightly in surprise. Erasing my memory is obviously meant to hide her identity, and owing one small favor can’t be that detrimental… but what if this is a trap?

Fain rapidly analyzed the conditions. On paper, it was an incredibly generous offer if it genuinely meant saving the city, yet a sense of unease crept up his spine.

Three hours… should I just hold out and wait for the heroes? NO! My people would be reduced to ashes by then! What if I try to renegotiate—

“Fain. Look into my eyes.” Vionette’s voice prevented further thinking, forcing his gaze back to her. “Now, look outside that window and ask yourself if your citizens will survive the wait.”

Sweat beading on his forehead, Fain slowly dragged his gaze from her piercing eyes to the window, watching the walking calamity bathe his burning city in fire. Swallowing hard, he looked back at her.

“Come on. My partner will slay the dragon for you, and all it will cost you is the memory of this little chat.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Don’t you want to save your people?”

“I-I do, but…”

If I gather every single one of my knights, could we bring it down? No, it’s impossible. I sent word to His Majesty about this weeks ago! Why? Why hasn’t he sent reinforcements yet?! Should I try to adjust her conditions—

While Fain was lost in his thoughts again, Vionette extended her hand across the desk. “Don’t worry. I want to save this city too. I’m simply making sure you won’t do me dirty once the beast is dead.” Her crimson eyes gleamed, compelling him to take the deal. “We will defeat the dragon. So just take my hand and accept it.”

Should I just… accept it? Fain’s eyes widened slightly as his trembling hand instinctively reached out toward hers. I have no other options left anyway. A single favor can’t be that dangerous, and my memories will return when the time comes regardless.

Then, as his skin made contact with hers, his lips moved of their own accord. “…I agree to those three conditions.”

His body began to emit a soft, pulsing light, generating a supernatural breeze that made his dark green locks and Vionette’s brilliant white hair sway in the closed room.

“And I agree to ensure my partner defeats the dragon.” As she bound her own words to the contract, her body began to emit the same glow.

The moment the contract was finalized, the light vanished, and Fain blinked in confusion. He felt as though he had just committed to something important, yet the details slipped through his mind like water through cupped hands. He only remembered that this mysterious woman had broken into his office and offered to help him defeat the dragon.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“As I was saying,” Vionette continued smoothly, leaning back in her chair. “We will defeat the dragon. In return…” She raised a single finger. “One: you will temporarily lend me the best among your healers.” She raised a second finger. “Two: you will not allow any harm to come to my team until we leave Cerma.” She raised a third finger. “And lastly: you will never tell anyone else that you lent me your healers.”

Fain blinked, a drop of sweat tracing down his cheek. “…That’s it?”

“Yes!” Vionette smiled cheerfully, her previous predatory aura vanishing into pure, innocent warmth. “But neither of us can just blindly trust a stranger’s word, right? So, please make a Soul Contract with me.”