Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role-Chapter 40

The radiant glow of the sun stretched across the shiny stairway as Lucien, flanked by Maid Marie and Knight Rex, descended from the towering temple of the Church of Elyssira. Their footsteps echoed in rhythm over the polished white marble, which transitioned gradually into the darkly veined stone path leading to the outer gates.

Awaiting them at the base of the temple was a sight that contrasted the chaos they had just left behind—a scene of disciplined order. Two luxurious carriages stood proudly, each adorned with intricate silver detailing, the crest of House Velebrandt emblazoned on the doors: a winged lion roaring into the sky. Surrounding them were six mounted knights in full plate armor, their helms forged in the style of dragon maws, their white capes trimmed with crimson. They sat atop colossal steeds with flaming manes and obsidian skin that shimmered in the waning light—A-Rank Infernal Warhorses, bred for both intimidation and speed.

The knights held their reins with steady hands, but even from a distance, Knight Rex could spot the telltale stiffness in their posture. A subtle tremor, the way their gloved fingers tensed slightly against the reins, betrayed their unease. The shutdown of the system interface had rattled even the most composed. And yet, none had left their posts. No disarray. No retreat.

Knight Rex approached them first, offering a nod of acknowledgment, his steely eyes meeting theirs beneath the visors. "Well done," he said simply. "You held your ground."

One of the knights saluted with a clenched fist to the chest, but none spoke. Their discipline was admirable. Lucien, trailing behind slightly, looked over the riders with quiet curiosity, his robe fluttering slightly as a breeze passed through the courtyard.

Rex turned back and opened the ornate carriage door for Lucien, the velvet interior glowing softly in the twilight. "Young master, your carriage is ready."

Before Lucien could enter, Maid Marie stepped forward, brushing a loose strand of chestnut brown hair behind her ear, her cheeks still touched with pink from earlier. "I’ll be taking the second carriage," she said with a soft, almost bashful smile. "It wouldn’t do for a maid to ride alongside her master, after all."

Lucien returned her smile faintly, eyes soft with gratitude. "Alright, Marie. Thank you."

As Marie walked toward the second carriage, her fingers nervously clutched the edge of her skirt, stealing one last glance over her shoulder toward Lucien.

Lucien turned to climb into the carriage, his movements graceful yet hesitant. Just before he ducked inside, Knight Rex, with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, asked, "Young master, are you sure you’ll be fine wearing just that robe the whole journey?"

Lucien paused. A wave of realization washed over his face.

"Ah... right," he muttered. He glanced down at himself, now more aware of the loose white robe gently tied at the waist. "The robe is fine, but..." He leaned closer and whispered, his face turning slightly red, "I don’t have any underwear. It’s... a little uncomfortable."

Rex let out a quiet chuckle—more amused than mocking—and nodded solemnly. "Understood."

With a motion practiced from years of travel, Rex reached behind his cloak and pulled out a compact pouch crafted from deep violet leather. It shimmered faintly with arcane threads sewn into its seams—a dimensional pouch, similar to the one Aurorwen had used earlier.

"Here," Rex said, opening it with a small flick. He reached in and, to Lucien’s shock, pulled out a neat bundle containing what looked to be ten folded pairs of underwear, each made of high-quality fabric in various cuts and colors—some elegant and formal, others more practical.

Lucien blinked. "Why in the world... do you carry a whole set of underwear in a magic pouch?"

Rex’s expression didn’t change. He simply placed the bundle onto the carriage’s plush seat and replied with the stoic tone of a veteran, "I’ve fought in enough battles to know how often one’s garments can be torn or burned off. Better to be prepared."

Lucien stared for a moment, processing the unexpected answer. Then he slowly nodded. "Fair enough." freёnovelkiss.com

Rex gave a light chuckle and, with practiced courtesy, closed the carriage door behind him, giving the young master a moment of privacy.

Inside the carriage, Lucien sat down and sighed. The velvet cushions welcomed him with luxurious softness, but his thoughts weren’t on comfort. As he sifted through the options Rex had given him, he couldn’t help but feel the absurdity of the situation—a ten-year-old boy who now looked like a young man, selecting underwear from a battle-hardened knight’s emergency stash.

Outside, Rex mounted his own horse with fluid ease. Marie, now inside the second carriage, peeked through the side curtain, her thoughts still spiraling around the changes in Lucien. The way his silver hair shimmered. How his mismatched eyes glowed faintly in the dusk. How even his smile, tired as it was, carried a gravity she had never noticed before.

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The creak of aged leather and the muffled rustle of fabric echoed softly within the polished confines of the luxurious carriage. Lucien, now clad in his newly selected undergarments—soft, silken, and white—sat comfortably, his white robe settling over his lap as he leaned to one side. The warmth of the carriage and the faint aroma of cedarwood and lavender infused the air, soothing his senses. With a slight tug of the velvet curtain, he peeked outside the carriage window.

Knight Rex, astride his imposing black warhorse, met Lucien’s eyes and offered a nod of reassurance. Lucien smiled faintly and raised a hand in a slow, composed wave. In response, Rex extended his gloved hand, accepting the small pouch of returned undergarments without question. With that, the carriage lurched softly, its wheels beginning to turn over the smooth stone of the temple courtyard, and the procession was underway.

Six A-rank knights, clad in polished silver and crimson armor, rode in formation. Their flame-maned horses—beasts bred in the southern battlefields—snorted with restrained energy, nostrils flaring with each calculated step. Though outwardly stoic, Rex could see it in their posture: the subtle tension, the uncertain twitch of a gauntlet, the hesitation before glancing to the sky. They were confused. Troubled. The system that had been with them since birth had vanished.

But there was no room for hesitation.

The carriage, carved of moonlight-hued wood and trimmed in gold, rolled steadily behind Knight Rex, leaving the grand temple complex behind as they made their way through the heart of the inner wall. Even within the Empire’s safest ring, the roads were unusually busy. Nobles’ carriages of all shapes and sizes passed in the opposite direction, their emblems fluttering in the breeze—griffins, wolves, roses, and stars—marking families both old and new. Lucien’s eyes widened slightly as he saw three griffin-riders descend, their beasts shrieking as they flapped against the strict no-fly edict of the imperial sky zone.

The sky was a blur of activity. Dozens of tamed flying beasts—wyverns, falcon-lions, and cloud rays—circled above like vultures drawn to a mystery. Their riders hailed from distant lands, their colors foreign and unfamiliar. Messages, scrolls, and diplomatic crests fluttered from their saddlebags, and the look in their eyes mirrored the one hidden deep within every soul today: uncertainty.

Lucien leaned his cheek against the cool glass of the window and watched with quiet amusement. "It’s like the whole world’s come here to ask the same question," he murmured under his breath. He watched as a carriage with strange markings passed by, the drivers speaking a dialect he couldn’t place. A hawk with obsidian feathers circled above it.

One hour passed.

The city was a swirl of movement and voices, of guards coordinating, of priests in white-and-gold vestments whispering hurried prayers or organizing their ranks. Rumors flew faster than the birds above. Had the Goddess Elyssira fallen silent? Was this a punishment or a test? Was this the true beginning of a new Era?

But inside the plush interior of the Velebrandt family carriage, Lucien had long stopped pondering the chaos outside.

He leaned back, his silver-white hair spilling over the headrest. The soft cushions embraced his weight, and the rhythmic sound of horse hooves clipping over cobbled stone lulled his nerves into calm. His thoughts, adrift like a leaf upon a river, wandered far from the noise.

He thought of his grandfather—the Emperor. An SSS-rank figure whose presence commanded awe. How was he reacting to the system’s disappearance? Was the Empress, his grandmother, already issuing orders? Surely, the Velebrandt estate would be in a flurry of controlled activity. His mother, Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt, no doubt had received the news before any of the outer branches.

And yet, Lucien smiled softly. He wasn’t anxious. Not in the slightest.

There was a quiet sort of peace in his chest. Perhaps because the world had changed, yet he had awakened. He was no longer a powerless child. Whatever awaited ahead, he now had the means—however uncertain—to face it.

The carriage rolled onward, descending toward the middle wall of the capital. Here, the grandeur shifted from sanctified marble to architectural elegance. Tall mansions with wrought-iron fences and mana-lit lanterns dotted the avenues. These were the holdings of the lesser nobility—viscounts, earls, and wealthy merchant clans who had bought their way into the outer folds of nobility. Their crests adorned their gates with pride, but Lucien noticed something else: anxiety.

Dozens of citizens and lesser nobles had gathered by the guardhouses of the Valderian Knights. Some clutched system crystals, hoping for a response. Others demanded to speak with Church representatives. The Valderian guards, dressed in their distinct midnight-blue armor and gold-trimmed cloaks, stood tall and silent as they tried to manage the swell.

Lucien tilted his head, watching the rising tension. He saw a noble youth, perhaps not much older than himself, yelling at a guard while holding up a broken interface crystal. The guard, unimpressed, simply pointed toward the main temple without a word.

But Lucien... he simply laid back.

His arms stretched across the bench seat, his head tilted slightly. The gentle motion of the carriage had become hypnotic, the warm sunlight slipping between velvet curtains casting soft rays across his robe. He closed his eyes.

The sound of distant voices, the creak of wheels, the steady hoofbeats—it all blurred into a lulling hum.

And slowly, but surely, Lucien Velebrandt, heir to the West, born into power amidst the collapse of the world’s certainty... drifted off to sleep.

His last thought before slipping into dreams was of roasted magic beast meat, glazed with honey and herbs.

He smiled faintly in his sleep.