The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

I stepped back.

And then I stepped back again. 

Again and again, I sought to retreat until I’d found a path leading me to the sanctuary that was my kingdom. Or if not that, a patisserie which I’ve never once visited but where I can still ask for the usual and be served exactly what I wished. I wasn’t picky. 

Sadly, it was to no avail.

Despite taking as many as three and a half steps back, Ouzelia and its many horrors remained firmly in my sight. And currently, they were all the same thing. 

A foe I never expected.

For even in my worst nightmares regarding this land of oddballs, I could never have predicted to meet an adversary so far beyond my ability to comprehend.

Yes.

It was this ...

“Heheh heh heh … hahahah hahahahah!”

A foe I’d already defeated before!

My knees quivered as my hands alternated between covering my mouth and my eyes. 

I could have worn a blanket over my face. It wouldn’t have been enough to hide the gall I was feeling, nor the horror I was currently seeing.

Such... Such shamelessness!

There was disregard to common decency! And then there was this! 

Tactlessness beyond even what a knight left unsupervised by a wary father for 5 minutes in the countryside could do! As a gentle princess with a heavily armed battleship to my name, such a flagrant insult to decorum was beyond my ability to fathom!

Pwooooosh.

Indeed!

As a ball of molten fury hurled, no, spat disgustingly past my shoulder, I could not even spare a glance at the explosion of parchment behind me. As the embers rushed past the archway and tickled my back, all I saw was the maddened glint of impropriety coming from a wyvern head’s eyes.

I was horrified.

“I see you've learned how to tremble. A sight as sweet as the justice to come. Know that while I am quelled, I am undefeated. Even in hardship and strife, I persevere. A living talisman to the tenacity of elvenkind, I remain the greatest wordswordswordswords …”

And then … I saw the truth of it.

Perhaps another princess would have fainted at the wanton lack of shame. But beyond the boasts which failed to enter my ears, I knew that not even the greatest of weeds could survive if so withered and broken as this fallen schemer was. 

Not unless it was permitted to by the newly sprouting vines around it.

“How … How dare you!” I said to the clockwork librarian. She smiled as she practically held up her hostage, no differently than a puppeteer in a circus. “To use a foe I’ve already defeated is both callous and cruel! This nameless commoner with no distinguishable characteristics clearly lacks the minimum requirements to be a recurring villain, yet you force him out of his corner of shame for his pride to be trampled once again!”

“Nameless commoner! I am Eucion of the Stars, and I will–”

“You will do as you’re told,” interrupted Fluer, her tone less sweet than her smile. “And that is to breathe fire. Now.”

The wyvern head said nothing.

Instead, the golden eyes narrowed for a moment, before its maw obediently widened to a hint of flames.

I was aghast.

“Wha– I thought you were merely stepping on him! But to have trained this peasant into being a jester’s flaming brand is to stuff him beneath the carpet first! His pride cannot even be seen!”

“This is simply an agreement! One I would have done freely if I knew vengeance would come so swiftly!”

I couldn't arrange my face to appear appalled enough. Lacking wrinkles or blemishes, there was only so much I could do.

“Look at this!” I said, gesturing towards the pitiable sight. “The commoner is so bereft of wits he believes an agreement with someone in the middle of kidnapping their own employer holds any merit! How could you possibly derive satisfaction from someone so hapless he could not even be trusted to spill wine over the correct dignitary’s lap?”

The wyvern head shook with indignation. And yet with all the guile of a baron at court realising his very first betrayal, he slowly tilted himself towards his conjurer.

The librarian raised a brow.

“Could you please not overtly attempt to distract my portable flame apparatus? I've been told you are wholly responsible for his current predicament. It’s outrageous to try to claim gall on his behalf.”

“I am only responsible for guiding the commoner onto the path of humility. Why, it is an utter scandal that my hard work is at threat of being undone so carelessly!”

“Please. You did nothing. I was the one who had to process him. I had to invent an entire category for archdruids dispossessed of a body. And then I had to arbitrate between all the different departments who wanted him. My ears are still ringing from the complaints when I opted to study him myself.”

“I ... I feel like I'm being spoken about while also ignored.”

“What are you studying? Ways for him to degrade himself lower than he already is? Frankly, you’ve already outdone yourself. He no longer qualifies as even a wyvern, but a sub-wyvern.”

“There is no such thing as a sub-wyvern.”

“A sub-wyvern is one whose sense of worth can only reduce once he is inevitably betrayed. How will you take responsibility for the rise in sea levels from all the tears? A bucket, perhaps?”

“To be honest, these have been a few very difficult weeks and I haven’t had anyone to talk to.”

“There will be no bucket. I’ve no intention of betraying him.”

I pointed at my eyes. 

“Assume they are rolling. Because if a confession could come with a tagline, that would be it. Of course you intend to betray him. It’s what he would do in the exact same situation. And if he had even an inkling of wits remaining, he would instead turn to betray you first in the certain knowledge that my passing amusement is the only thing which could see him released onto an island paradise where he may scheme in peace between heating soap mixtures. A significant improvement over life as a candle.”

The clockwork librarian blinked. As did the sub-wyvern.

No recriminations or defence needed to be offered. It was a point which humoured no argument. 

Slowly, a newly enlightened commoner turned towards his own jailer. 

“The human is, at least, brazenly upfront regarding her wickedness.” 

The unimpressed frown which answered was without either surprise or remorse.

“You will be punished for this,” she said simply.

The sub-wyvern’s maw opened to a fresh bout of flames. 

The window to the abyss shut at once as indignation lashed out in flame form. 

The clockwork librarian huffed as a single strand of her luminous pink hair was singed. She batted the smoke away and sent an unamused glare towards me, her hair now having been harmed beyond measure.

“I hope that was worth it,” she said simply.  

“It was, yes. And not just for avoiding the threat of defeating the same foe twice. After all, if I only wished to preserve my dignity, I would have ignored his existence altogether.”

Her lips parted to ask the most dangerous question.

She had enough sense to clamp them shut. But not enough to stop the clockwork doll who’d slowly sneaked her way over via the tail of a dragon.

Fleur swept around at once. 

It was still too late.

“[Coppelia Lead Roundhouse Spinning Back Kick Triple Hit Super Combo]!”

Bwooomph!

Hurtling faster than any fireball spat in defiance of both hygiene and the lack of a throat, a blur of a chestnut pinafore dress mixed with a dash of pink was all I saw as Coppelia sent her errant co-worker into the newest hole in a cavern wall. It was covered at once by a veil of dust and shattering stone, a crunch filling the air as the younger librarian’s figure was entirely lost within the hard stone.

My mouth widened.

“Coppelia … was that my sister’s technique?"

“Sure was! I've been practising it! Mostly in bakeries! It keeps me and the queue moving!”

I hopped on the spot, clapping in delight.

My, I had no idea! To think Florella’s delicate stress relieving exercise routine for both mind and body was being propagated! Here was the start of something fashionable!

“An excellent choice! Why, each backwards strike of the heel was the spitting image of my sister’s kindness! Your colleague now appears to be so ashamed that she’s hiding inside the literal mountain!”

“Ahaha~ it was only perfect,” she said with a modest wave. “But even if it was more than perfect, that’s still nowhere near enough to keep Fleur in place.”

I blinked.

Then, I turned to the hole with my sword raised. Yet despite the illuminating glare, nothing could be seen within the deep recess where a clockwork doll had now scarpered.

“Are you certain? Because this is a rather larger hole than those you’ve made yourself. And even you couldn’t immediately return to spring health after such an impact … right?”

“Well, it’d definitely mean a few squeaky cogs afterwards. But Fleur is special. She’s really tough. Not even bonks to the head faze her.”

“... Perhaps bonks to the head are the problem if that’s the reason why she’s now as she is?”

“True." Coppelia raised her Scythe. “Or she could just be dumb in her own way, which is why now feels like–”

Bwoomph!

A chunk of the wall came in answer.

Expanding the hole, a veritable boulder was sent towards Coppelia, only to be cleanly cleaved by a waiting scythe in two equal halves. 

A warning which went unignored. 

Before the dust could decide whether it wished to rise or settle, a librarian whose pinafore dress now boasted a single wrinkle leapt with a blasé smile.

“My turn,” said Fleur, pink hair and frilly hem both billowing behind as her hands came together.

Clap.

The blackened window appeared for only the briefest of moments. 

It was enough to tear an emerald pommel, an embossed hilt and a gleaming blade from the abyss. A sword so radiant it formed ripples in the inky surface as it joined Starlight Grace in ushering the darkness away.

Only the shadows surrounding the scythe coming to meet her were undiminished. Yet this was a point more to the ominousness of Coppelia’s weapon than a slight against the sword.

Indeed, even I had to admit it was rather fetching.

A work which surpassed even elven masterwork. Steel which gleamed like purest silver almost as much as my own. This was no sword crafted for a commoner’s hands.

In fact–

It was startlingly similar to the heirloom swords of my family.

Slim yet durable. Radiant even without the magic which ringed it. Elegant but practical.

Yes.

This sword was very similar to my own.

Because as my eyes widened and nothing but a gasp left my lips, I saw a sword which had last been used to shoo away a knight by batting him in the kneecap because his compliments did not rhyme. 

Its name–

Dawning Summer. 

And it was chosen as the replacement for the sword now in my care.

… By Grandmother.