I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist-Chapter 176: [Flashback] [Isaac Crawford] [2]

"N-No, Milord," the man stuttered. "We have information that one of Charentra's leaders is there." He hesitated before adding, "She goes by the name of Nimue."

"Nimue?" Emperor Haran Izhantra repeated, his brows knitting together. "Isn't she one of those sorceresses?"

"She is," a man spoke up almost admiringly. "And the best among them."

The speaker was a tall, dark-haired man with striking green eyes. Though in his late thirties, time had been generous to him, his features still as sharp as his mind. He was Salazar, a man who had served the previous Emperor as one of his closest advisors. He had entered the court at a young age, climbing the ranks not through blood but through sheer intelligence and an unnerving sense of calm. His father, a high noble, had died in the same ambush that had claimed the Emperor's life. Since then, both he and Isaac Crawford had become the most influential voices in Haran's court.

"Who?" Isaac asked not really aware of that name. His grey eyes flickered toward Salazar.

Salazar chuckled, shaking his head. "Lord Crawford, you should at least familiarize yourself with Charentra's leaders. Nimue is not just anyone."

Isaac's expression didn't shift, but his next words were as frigid as ice. "I don't need to remember their names. They are all the same to me. And they all need to die."

Salazar exchanged a glance with the other nobles, who remained silent. Isaac's obsession with Charentra was absolute. He didn't differentiate between them, didn't care for their ranks or reputations—only that they died under his blade.

"Regardless," Salazar continued, "Nimue is a dangerous and highly intelligent woman. If she has chosen to attack Cateran, then she has a plan. And I doubt it's a reckless one."

"I'll kill her," Isaac said simply, already turning to leave.

"Lord Crawford!" A voice from the crowd spoke up, slightly frantic. "You are the Empire's Secretary. You cannot simply abandon your post whenever you please! This matter can be handled by others—"

Isaac came to a halt mid-step, his gaze snapping toward the noble who had dared to speak. The man instantly averted his eyes, the color draining from his face. But his words still rang true. Even those who despised Isaac—who once dismissed him as little more than a weapon—could no longer deny his importance.

And Isaac knew it too.

But Isaac's mind was already set—he would kill her. This woman, Nimue, seemed to be a key leader of Charentra, and judging by the wary expressions around the room, she was no ordinary enemy. If even these hardened nobles hesitated at the mention of her name, that was reason enough to eliminate her.

"Now, now," Salazar chuckled. "It is true that sending Lord Crawford directly might not be the most conventional decision, given his position as the Empire's Secretary. However…" He tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips. "At the same time, we must not underestimate Nimue. She is exceptionally dangerous, and no ordinary man could hope to handle her. If there's anyone fit for this task, it is Lord Crawford. We all know his capabilities."

No one dared to speak against Salazar's words. The weight of Nimue's reputation loomed over them dangerously. She was a force to be reckoned with—that much was undeniable. While Isaac was certainly strong, was it truly wise to send him alone? If she proved to be stronger, and they lost him… the consequences would be catastrophic.

In the end, all eyes turned to Emperor Haran, awaiting his final decision.

Haran met Isaac's gaze, unreadable as always. Then, after a long moment, he sighed.

"Very well," he said at last. "But Isaac—bring her to me alive."

Isaac's grey eyes narrowed.

"Alive?" His tone carried the definitive edge of confusion and displeasure. He had fully intended to kill her like the others.

"Yes, alive." Haran's voice remained strong, but there was an ambiguity to it—something unsaid. "She is one of their leaders now, but she wasn't before. I want to speak with her."

There was something more to his words, something Isaac didn't quite like. But an order from the Emperor was absolute. If Haran wanted Nimue alive, then so be it.

The nobles, however, were stunned by the casual nature of the decree. Did the Emperor truly expect Isaac to capture a sorceress as dangerous as Nimue as if it were a simple task? They had already been skeptical about Isaac's survival against her, and now Haran was asking for her to be brought back alive?

They knew Haran trusted Isaac immensely—but was that trust bordering on recklessness?

Isaac gave a final nod to the Emperor before turning on his heel and walking away. There was no time to waste—he needed to prepare.

Back in his quarters, he went through the familiar ritual of inspecting his weapons. His revolvers, rifles, and the other finely crafted tools he used to channel his mana—all laid out before him in perfect order. In this world, mana was wild and untamable, a force of pure chaos unless controlled through an artifact. For most, it wasn't a concern—only a handful of people were blessed with mana in the first place. But Isaac's case was different.

His mana wasn't just powerful; it was dangerous. Volatile.

When he was only ten, he lost control. The result was an incident so catastrophic that over a hundred lives were lost in a single moment. From that day on, his parents forbade him from ever using his mana again—not just for his sake, but for the safety of everyone around him. And Isaac obeyed. At least, until they were killed.

Left with no other choice, he trained himself, learning to master his unstable power through his weapons—each one tailored precisely to his needs by the finest smiths. Now, they were more than tools. They were lifelines.

Satisfied with his preparations, he shrugged on his coat, adjusting it carefully until his appearance was as neat as one would expect from a high noble. Then, without hesitation, he stepped out of his quarters.

The corridor was quiet, save for the measured sound of his footsteps. But as he turned a corner, he came face to face with someone unexpected.

A young woman stood before him. She was beautiful—dark brown hair tied neatly at her back, her elegant gown a clear mark of high nobility. Even before she spoke, Isaac knew exactly who she was.

Celia Redsher.

The only daughter of Count Redsher. The same noble who had advised him to stay behind.

His expression darkened instantly. Displeasure flickered across his face, but he forced it down and moved to walk past her without a word. Unfortunately, she had no intention of letting him go so easily.

"Lord Crawford," she called out.

Isaac halted, glancing back at her with narrowed eyes. He knew better than to expect words of encouragement—Celia had never hidden her distaste for him.

Then again, the feeling was mutual.

Normally, he wouldn't even bother acknowledging people he disliked, but Celia was different. She wasn't just some noble's daughter. She was the Emperor's lover. And soon, she would be Queen.

"What?" Isaac's voice was flat and utterly devoid of the respect one should show to the future queen. Under normal circumstances, such insolence could have cost him his life. But Celia knew better. The Emperor—Isaac's closest ally—would never let that happen.

That very closeness between her fiancé and Isaac gnawed at her, an irritation she could neither voice nor change. And yet, that was precisely why she had sought him out.

"I wish you good luck," she said.

Isaac's expression twisted in response, his disdain clear, and it only served to grate on Celia's nerves.

"I don't care about you," she continued, crossing her arms "But I know how important you are to Haran. Since I came this far, I won't pretend otherwise—he needs you."

Isaac barely spared her a glance. "I see," he muttered indifferently, already turning to leave. freeweɓnovel.cøm

But Celia moved swiftly, her fingers wrapping around his arm.

His eyes flicked toward her, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual cold detachment.

"Regardless of how we feel about each other, you and I both know Haran is in danger," she said seriously. "I don't trust any of the nobles around him—except you."

She let the weight of her words settle before continuing. "If you truly mean to serve the Empire as Lord Crawford and his Lady once did, then don't abandon your Emperor."

Without another word, she released his arm and walked away, leaving Isaac standing there in silence.

He watched her go before finally turning on his heel.

The truth was, he didn't trust the nobles either. And while he had always considered Charentra the greatest threat… at the time, he had yet to realize just how deep the danger truly ran…