A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

Varkhaz grinned at Andras.

The demon mistook his silence for fear.

”What’s wrong, human? Have you finally realized how far beneath me you are?”

Andras said nothing.

His gaze moved briefly over the demon’s body—the thick muscles, the dark scales, the claws gleaming with destructive mana.

Varkhaz was a Mid Fifth Circle Warrior. Andras was only a Mid Fourth Circle Mage.

The difference was substantial.

In a direct contest of strength, Andras would lose. Even with his swordsmanship and Echo Resonance, he could not afford to exchange blows carelessly.

Yet the demon was also a source of valuable information.

His Lesser Abyssal Bloodline was B-Rank. Acquiring it would be useful.

It was not worth dying for.

Andras adjusted his grip on the Extraordinary-rank longsword he had taken from the Darkmoor estate. Its weight felt familiar. Eclipse Edge remained safely concealed in his storage ring. Revealing a Legendary weapon here would invite questions he had no intention of answering.

Varkhaz’s grin widened.

”Still pretending to be calm?”

He moved.

The demon crossed the distance with frightening speed, claws sweeping toward Andras’s head.

Resonant Sense caught the shift in weight and the surge of mana around the demon’s arm.

Andras moved first.

Echo Step.

His body blurred sideways, leaving a faint afterimage.

Varkhaz’s claws tore through empty air.

Andras counterattacked at once.

”First Thorn.”

His sword thrust toward the demon’s exposed side.

Varkhaz twisted, allowing the blade to scrape across his scales. He retaliated with a backhand that forced Andras to retreat. The claws passed close enough to tear the fabric at his shoulder.

Andras landed several paces away.

Varkhaz’s reaction speed was higher than expected. Even when caught off guard, he adjusted quickly enough to reduce the damage.

A shallow wound would not be enough.

The demon glanced at the faint mark on his side and laughed.

”That’s it? I expected more.”

Dark mana gathered around his claws.

Ruinous Claws.

The B-Rank talent reinforced his natural weapons. The stone beneath his feet cracked as he pushed forward.

Varkhaz attacked again—sweeping strikes followed by a sudden thrust at Andras’s chest.

Andras used Echo Step to evade the first blow and intercepted the second. The impact rattled his arms. He redirected the force rather than resisting it, then slipped past the demon’s reach.

”Second Thorn.”

His blade flashed toward Varkhaz’s ribs.

The demon twisted, but not quickly enough. Steel cut through a narrow gap between the scales, drawing a thin line of blood on his left side.

Varkhaz’s smile faded.

He lunged again.

Andras activated Echo Step, but this time the demon did not chase the afterimage. He struck toward the space where Andras was most likely to reappear.

Andras emerged just in time to raise his sword.

The collision sent him sliding backward. Sharp pain traveled through his wrists.

Echo Step was fast, but it was not teleportation. Repeated use left patterns an observant opponent could recognize. Varkhaz had already begun predicting his movements.

Andras needed to change the rhythm.

Varkhaz charged once more.

Andras waited until the demon committed, then stepped inside the effective arc of the claws.

”Iron Fang.”

The blade struck Varkhaz’s shoulder, cutting through the edge of his scales. The demon was forced to turn.

Andras followed with a precise thrust.

”Thorn Pierce.”

Varkhaz knocked the blade aside with his forearm and swept his other hand toward Andras’s abdomen.

Andras retreated, but the claws still grazed his side.

Pain flared beneath his ribs.

He landed in a crouch. Blood seeped through the torn fabric.

Varkhaz rolled his shoulder.

”You’re not completely useless. But skill won’t save you when you run out of room to move.”

Andras wiped the blood from his side.

He directed mana through his sword.

Echo Resonance — Weapon Infusion.

A fine vibration ran along the blade, concentrating destructive force at the point of contact.

He advanced.

Varkhaz met him with a downward claw strike.

Andras angled his blade across the attacking arm. The vibration allowed the sword to bite more deeply into the scales, shifting the trajectory enough for him to avoid the full impact. He turned with the movement and cut toward the demon’s left side.

Varkhaz twisted away, but the infused blade opened another wound along his ribs.

The demon snarled and drove his knee forward.

Andras blocked with his forearm. The impact sent him staggering. His arm went numb.

The cost of Weapon Infusion was accumulating, and his injuries were already affecting his movements.

He could not maintain this pace indefinitely.

Neither could Varkhaz remain untouched.

The demon’s blood darkened the scales along his left side and shoulder. The wounds were beginning to interfere with his movements.

Andras watched carefully.

Whenever he threatened the existing injury, Varkhaz instinctively pulled his left side back to protect it. The habit was subtle, almost automatic, but it happened repeatedly.

Andras stored the observation.

Then he deliberately shifted his next attack toward the injured left side.

Varkhaz responded exactly as expected—turning his torso and drawing his left arm inward.

Andras changed his angle at the last moment.

His blade passed beneath the demon’s arm, forcing Varkhaz to twist awkwardly to avoid being struck in the throat.

For the first time, the demon’s stance broke.

Andras stepped in and seized Varkhaz’s forearm.

Direct contact.

He focused on the mana circulating through the demon’s body—the dense flow reinforcing the muscles, the surges that accompanied each attack.

He directed a concentrated vibration through the point of contact, matching it to the rhythm he had been tracking.

Resonance Lock.

For a fraction of a second, the vibration interfered with the flow of mana through Varkhaz’s arm.

The reinforcement faltered.

Varkhaz’s balance shifted. The muscles beneath Andras’s grip momentarily lost coordination.

”What—?”

Andras released him and thrust toward the opening.

The sword drove toward Varkhaz’s chest.

Even disrupted, the demon’s instincts remained sharp. He twisted violently, allowing the blade to tear across his left side instead of piercing his chest. Mana surged back into place, resisting the lingering interference.

Andras withdrew before the counterattack could catch him.

Varkhaz stumbled a single step, then stared at Andras with genuine anger.

”What did you do?”

Andras offered no answer.

Resonance Lock could interrupt the demon’s reinforcement long enough to create an opening. It simply could not hold him in place. The technique had also demanded more concentration and mana than Andras wanted to spend.

He would have to choose his next opportunity carefully.

Across the corridor, another clash rang out.

Seraphina was fighting a second demon whose arms were unnaturally elongated. Each swing covered an absurd amount of space.

She raised one hand.

”Gale Barrier.”

A rotating wall of wind formed in front of her. The demon’s claws struck it, scattering turbulent currents across the corridor. The barrier held long enough for her to retreat.

She answered with a series of compressed wind blades. The projectiles scored shallow wounds across the creature’s body.

Seraphina did not press the attack.

She had already recognized the problem: the demon’s reach gave it an advantage in open space. She retreated toward a narrower passage between two broken pillars.

The demon followed, eager to exploit what it believed was a retreat.

The moment it entered the confined space, its elongated arms became a disadvantage. The walls restricted its wider swings.

Seraphina’s expression remained composed.

She had not escaped the demon’s reach. She had reduced the number of directions from which it could attack.

Another Gale Barrier intercepted a claw strike. Wind gathered around her hand.

”Wind Blades.”

The compressed blades shot forward through the limited space. The demon could no longer evade every projectile simply by extending its reach.

Seraphina pressed forward, forcing it to defend.

Andras returned his attention to Varkhaz.

His fiancée was holding her own. He had no reason to abandon his opponent and interfere.

Varkhaz followed his glance and bared his teeth.

”Worried about her? You should be worried about yourself.”

Dark mana spread over his claws once more.

Andras raised his sword.

Varkhaz attacked.

Their weapons met in a burst of sparks. Andras turned the strike aside and countered, but Varkhaz had already adjusted. The demon’s forearm slammed against the flat of the blade, forcing it away.

Andras stepped inside the next attack.

”Black Guard.”

Steel scraped across the demon’s scales as he redirected the strike just far enough to open a narrow gap.

He immediately thrust toward Varkhaz’s throat.

The demon jerked backward. The point missed his neck by a finger’s width, leaving a thin cut beneath his jaw.

Varkhaz retaliated with a brutal horizontal swing.

Andras activated Echo Step. The demon anticipated the movement and struck toward his likely reappearance point.

Andras twisted in mid-motion.

The claws missed his chest, but one caught his shoulder.

Pain exploded through his arm.

He stumbled into a stone pillar. The impact sent a shock through his already injured ribs. For a moment his vision blurred.

He forced himself upright before Varkhaz could capitalize.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His right shoulder throbbed. Every breath sent pain through his side. His mana was running low, and his body was accumulating injuries faster than he could compensate.

Varkhaz was hurt, but the demon remained stronger.

Andras needed to finish the fight before the gap became impossible to overcome.

He watched the demon advance.

Varkhaz’s left side remained guarded. Whenever Andras threatened the existing wound, the demon instinctively pulled back to protect it. The habit was becoming more pronounced as the injury worsened.

There was an opportunity there.

But an opportunity was not the same as a guaranteed opening.

Andras needed to force Varkhaz to choose between protecting his wound and defending against a more immediate threat.

He adjusted his stance, lowering his center of gravity despite the pain.

Varkhaz noticed the change.

”Running out of tricks?”

The demon charged.

Andras held his ground until the last possible moment.

Then he moved.

His blade flashed toward Varkhaz’s injured left side, forcing the demon to react. As expected, Varkhaz twisted away, instinctively drawing his left side back to protect the wound.

The movement exposed his right flank.

For an instant, the opening was there.

”Execution Line.”

His sword cut toward Varkhaz’s exposed right flank, but the demon twisted at the last instant. The blade veered across his left side, biting deeper into the existing wound instead of reaching the intended vital point.

The wound was worse.

It was not fatal.

Andras saw the mistake at once.

He had correctly predicted Varkhaz’s defensive instinct, but he had misjudged how much the demon could twist his body while protecting the injury. His strike had been committed before the opening fully developed, leaving him unable to redirect the blade toward the exposed flank.

He tried to recover his balance.

Too late.

Varkhaz’s eyes blazed with fury.

”YOU—!”

The demon’s clawed fist crashed into Andras’s torso.

Andras felt something give beneath the impact.

His body lifted off the ground before he slammed into the stone floor. The sword slipped from his hand and skidded several paces away.

For a moment, he could not breathe.

Pain spread through his ribs and shoulder. His limbs felt heavy. The mana he had left seemed distant, difficult to gather.

Varkhaz approached slowly, blood dripping from his left side.

”You almost had me,” the demon growled. ”Almost.”

Andras tried to push himself up.

His arm buckled.

He fell back against the stone, breathing through clenched teeth.

Varkhaz stopped a short distance away and raised his claws.

”Now die.”

The demon lunged.

Andras rolled aside.

The claws struck the floor where his head had been, shattering stone into fragments. He used the momentum to drag himself toward his sword, each movement sending fresh pain through his ribs.

His fingers finally closed around the hilt.

He pulled the weapon toward him and forced himself onto one knee.

His mana was running low, his body was badly damaged, and Varkhaz had already adapted to his movement.

Andras had exposed the demon’s protective instinct once.

He still had not found a way to turn it into a decisive opening.

The demon turned and charged again.

Andras rose unsteadily, gripping the sword with both hands. He angled the blade toward the incoming claws, searching for a way to redirect their force rather than stop them outright.

Varkhaz’s claws descended.

Andras stepped into the attack, sword rising to meet them.

Steel collided with ruinous claws.

The impact shook the corridor, sending cracks racing across the stone beneath their feet.