I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist-Chapter 172: Trapped In Nearnal

Merlin walked between Cline and Tonan as they led her through the dimly lit streets, promising to take her to the best inn in town. Their confidence in their choice didn't exactly reassure her, but she followed nonetheless.

When they stopped in front of the building, she had to admit—it did look better maintained than the other crumbling structures lining the street. The wood wasn't rotting, the windows weren't shattered, and the sign hadn't completely faded into obscurity. A rare sight in this city.

However, as soon as she stepped inside, her relief was short-lived. The lobby was eerily empty. No receptionist, no staff, not even the usual warmth of an inn meant for weary travelers. A few shadowy figures lurked in the corners, their conversations hushed. Others drifted up and down the staircase, their eyes flicking toward her with an unsettling awareness.

Merlin's discomfort deepened. Something about this place was off.

The creaking wooden staircase looked even less inviting, but at least the elevator still worked. Without hesitation, she stepped inside—only for Cline and Tonan to follow her in.

"You can just tell me the room number and hand over the key. No need to trouble yourselves," she said, forcing a polite smile.

Cline returned her smile with one of his own. "We must ensure your accommodations are comfortable, Milady."

There was nothing overtly sinister in his words, but it did nothing to ease the growing unease curling in Merlin's gut.

Everything about this city was strange. The mayor had been unnerving enough, but these two… they unsettled her in a different way. No employees, yet they acted like they had full control over the place. And the people downstairs—their smirks, their leering gazes—only made her more aware of how alone she truly was.

Her heart pounded louder in her chest, a creeping sense of dread clawing at her.

Then—

"…!"

A light touch brushed against her back, too close to places it had no business being.

Merlin flinched, snapping her head around. "W-What are you doing?"

Tonan barely blinked, his expression calm as he offered an apologetic smile. "Ah, my apologies. The elevator is rather unsteady."

Merlin didn't reply. She simply pressed herself into the corner, keeping her gaze locked on both men, her guard now fully raised.

When they finally reached her floor, she wasted no time stepping out. They led her to a room at the end of the hall, its door looking oddly… deliberate, as if it had been chosen for a reason.

Cline handed her a brass key. "Here you are."

"…Thanks." Merlin took it swiftly, pushed the door open, and the moment she was inside, she shut it tight behind her, locking it with a sharp click.

Only then did she finally exhale.

But the unease didn't leave her.

Not one bit.

Merlin pressed her eye against the spyhole, watching.

Cline and Tonan stood outside her door, exchanging hushed words. Whatever they were discussing, it made them smile—an expression that sent an unpleasant chill down her spine. A moment later, they turned and walked away, disappearing down the hall.

Only then did she release the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Turning around, she leaned against the wall, gripping her staff as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Answer my call, spirits…" She whispered, reaching out once more.

The same silence as before answered her.

She could feel it—no response, no familiar warmth, no recognition. The mana that had always flowed through her veins, always answered her call, was absent. It was as if the very essence of magic had turned its back on her.

"Why…?" She muttered, fingers tightening around her staff.

This wasn't just any staff—it was a gift, a sacred artifact bestowed upon her by the great spirits who had raised her, taught her the ways of magic, shaped her into who she was. For as long as she could remember, the staff had been an extension of her soul, pulsing with the same life force that had always guided her.

Yet now, it felt foreign in her grasp. Cold. Lifeless.

Powerless.

A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. There was no time for despair. No time for fear. She had to act.

Forcing herself to move, Merlin scanned the room. The only potential escape was the window. She rushed to it, heart pounding, and peered outside.

Fourth floor. Too high.

If her magic were intact, she could have descended with ease. But now? A fall from this height would break more than just her confidence.

Then, movement below caught her eye.

Cline and Tonan had just exited the inn. They didn't leave, though. Instead, they stopped in front of a group of five figures lurking in the shadows. There was no mistaking the exchange—words, nods, grins that carried a dangerous edge. Then, one by one, the newcomers followed Cline and Tonan back inside.

Weapons in their hands.

Merlin froze at that sight.

"...!"

She stumbled back from the window.

So it was a trap after all.

They were closing in. She had barely a minute, maybe two.

Merlin's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of her sword, but doubt crept on. How long could she truly last against those men? She had little to no experience with swords, contrary to these men. A fight was a losing game. She had to decide—now.

With a quick breath, she unlatched the door and slipped out, her heart hammering. The hallway was empty. Good. She turned away from the elevator, opting for the stairwell instead.

Each step downward felt agonizingly slow. She moved as silently as possible, forcing herself to breathe evenly, but the tension coiled around her lungs. The fear was suffocating, threatening to send her into a dizzying panic. She pressed on, step after step, until she reached the second floor.

That was when she heard it—footsteps echoing up the stairwell. Voices.

No time to think. She veered into the second-floor corridor, her eyes darting around for cover. The hall was empty, but that wouldn't last. Desperate, she spotted a half-open door and rushed inside, pressing it shut behind her.

A foul stench hit her immediately, thick and putrid, clawing at her throat. Ignoring it, she took a cautious step forward—then froze.

On the sofa, slumped and unmoving, was a rotting corpse. A woman. Her body was riddled with injuries, skin discolored with decay. The sight sent a cold wave of horror crashing over Merlin.

"Search every room! She has to be here somewhere!"

Cline's voice rang out from the corridor, accompanied by the hurried thudding of boots. They were already on this floor.

Panic surged through her once more. She darted her gaze around the dimly lit room, searching frantically for a place to hide. But there was nothing—no closet, no furniture big enough to conceal her. And even if she found a spot, how long could she stay hidden? It was too risky.

Her eyes snapped to the window.

It was dangerously high. But still lower than the fourth floor.

She had no choice. Swallowing her fear, she pushed it open and climbed onto the ledge, feeling the night air bite against her skin. Carefully, she stretched her foot down, searching for anything to grip onto below.

"...!"

Unfortunately, her too-long robe snagged against the frame, throwing her off balance. A gasp tore from her lips as she slipped.

Instinct took over. In a desperate move, she reached for her staff—and by some miracle, it caught onto something solid.

Now she dangled several meters above the ground, her fingers clinging for dear life.

Merlin gulped audibly, her fingers trembling as she looked down. The ground wasn't too far. After a quick scan to make sure no one was below, she took a deep breath—then let go.

A sharp pain shot through her knees as she hit the ground hard. "Agh!" She gasped, scraping her skin against the rough earth despite wearing a robe. But there was no time to dwell on it. Ignoring the sting, she pushed herself up and bolted.

The city around her was eerily indifferent to her plight. Most people were either too broken to care or too lost in their own misery to notice the girl sprinting through the streets. She had a clear path—at least, that's what she thought.

Then, she saw them.

Two men, dressed like Cline.

Heart pounding, she ducked into a side street, pressing herself against the cold stone wall as she struggled to steady her breathing.

That was when her gaze landed on the mayor's house.

"Mr. Isaac…"

If those men were after her, then Isaac was in danger too. She knew exactly what kind of people they were—she couldn't just abandon him.

But… she also had to survive.

Going back there would be like throwing herself straight into the wolves' den.

Her fingers tightened around her staff. Her pulse roared in her ears as she wrestled with the choice. Then, with a deep breath, she swallowed her fear and made her decision.

She ran.

Straight toward the mayor's mansion.

Shouts erupted behind her.

"It's her!"

"She's here!"

She didn't stop. Didn't look back. She pushed her legs beyond their limits, past the burning in her muscles. But then—

Her damn robe.

The fabric tangled around her legs, sending her stumbling forward. She barely had time to catch herself before a strong hand seized her shoulder.

"Finally. Just stay still," Cline growled.

"Don't touch me!" Merlin snarled, swinging her staff at him with all her might.

But he was faster.

He caught the weapon with an easy grip, his smirk deepening as he wrenched it from her hands and flung it aside like trash.

"No—hm!"

Before she could even scream, Cline's hand clamped over her mouth. His eyes darkened with something that made her stomach twist.

"If you stay silent, it won't hurt," he said.

"Hey, we should take her to the mayor first," Tonan interjected. "We can enjoy ourselves with her after."

"What mayor, dumbass?" Cline scoffed. "He's just another guy like the rest of us but he is wearing neat clothes that's all."

Then his attention returned to Merlin, his gaze trailing over her with a twisted hunger. "I've never seen a beauty like this. Might as well—"

A sound cut him off.

Series of footsteps echoed from the entrance of the mayor's mansion.

Everyone froze.

Heads snapped toward the source.