Reincarnated as the Last Villain

The northern sky was darker than usual, though the sun had not yet set. Storm clouds churned like they were holding their breath, as if the heavens themselves feared what was to come.

Kael stood atop the ruins of an abandoned watchtower, his cloak tattered, his armor scraped. The divine spear was gone. The gods had turned away. The church called him a heretic.

And yet… he felt free.

A sound behind him — boots on broken stone. He didn't turn. He didn't need to.

"I didn't come to fight," said the woman's voice. Cold. Controlled. A voice trained for command.

Kael slowly turned.

Serana.

Once a general of the Kingdom of Aerith. Now a fugitive after refusing to execute civilians during the Crownless War. Her armor bore no insignia, her sword wrapped in cloth like a relic buried in shame.

She stopped a few paces from him. "The world is crumbling," she said. "And I'm tired of killing in the name of kings who lie and gods who don't answer."

Kael said nothing at first. Just looked into the wind.

"Why are you here?" he asked finally.

Serana hesitated. "Because I watched you spare Zerath. Because you didn't burn a city just because you lost your crown. And because I need something to believe in again… even if it's the wrong thing."

Kael met her gaze.

"Then don't believe in me," he said. "Believe in what we can build — something neither blessed by light nor consumed by shadow. A rebellion."

She didn't smile. But she nodded once.

That was enough.

The next day, two more joined them.

Nilo — a once-renowned mage exiled for developing forbidden healing spells that threatened the clergy's monopoly.And Duran — a war-scarred soldier flogged for disobeying an order to slaughter an innocent village.

None of them trusted each other.

But all of them had been abandoned by someone.

Together, they found shelter in the forgotten fortress of Ravengarde — a crumbling relic in the southern wastes, surrounded by dead rivers and whispering woods. Locals called it cursed. That made it perfect.

Kael stood atop the broken battlements as Nilo spread out a tattered map on a stone table.

"Zerath has an empire forming," Nilo said. "Exiled kings, warlords, rogue priests. He has coin. Troops. Territory."

"And us?" Serana asked.

"Four people. Two spears. One leaking cauldron," Nilo replied.

Kael smirked.

"That's more than enough to start a revolution."

That night, as rain swept across the ruined halls of Ravengarde, Kael wrote a message. Just a few lines.

He handed it to a cloaked courier — a former monk turned smuggler.

If you've been cast out by the Light, and hunted by the Dark — come to Ravengarde.You are not alone.

And as that message traveled through forest paths and refugee camps, across battlefields and crumbled cities, whispers began to stir.

Far away, in the Black Citadel, Zerath read a copy of the message on black parchment.

He folded it calmly, eyes reflecting firelight.

"A rebellion," he said.

He turned toward the arched window, looking down at the blackened stone rising from his empire's heart. The Obsidian Citadel was growing.

Behind him, a shadow moved — Velatrix, silent as ever.

"Burn anything he could call home," Zerath ordered.

She bowed and vanished into smoke.