Taming The Villainesses novel Chapter 361

I believe there are two types of people.

First, those who carefully plan before doing anything.

Second, those who adapt to the situation as it unfolds.

In my view, I was closer to the first. Whatever I did, I always laid out plans, crafted strategies, reviewed everything thoroughly, and only then moved forward, one step at a time, tapping the stone bridge as I crossed it.

Maybe that was because I’d faced too many situations where failure simply wasn’t allowed—an obsession with always making the best choice had shaped me that way.

Of course, there were plenty of times when I had to abandon those carefully drawn plans and scrap everything on the spot.

Like now.

“Ever heard of the dark swordsman Andromalli? I’m pretty famous. Believe it or not, I’m a top-class mercenary.”

Human affairs—especially events involving crowds—always come with unpredictable variables and errors.

This tournament itself had been a variable, born from Ayra’s whims. Nothing that happened here, no matter how bizarre, should come as a surprise.

“......”

Still, this situation was serious.

Was it because the tournament had drawn participants from all walks of life under a meritocratic banner? I hadn’t expected someone this uncontrollable to have made it to the finals.

“So anyway, I heard the target I’m after is competing in this tournament. Supposedly skilled enough to reach the finals. They also said he has a hand-shaped burn mark on his ankle.”

The man kept rambling on about things I hadn’t even asked.

“Dark swordsman Andromalli.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Heard of me somewhere, haven’t you? More importantly, do you have a handprint-shaped mark on your ankle? Show me.”

He asked confidently, like he was sure of it. But up until today, I’d never even heard his name. He carried himself with an odd hunger for recognition—like a narcissist showing off his fame.

The only thing I could determine in this moment was that this man was a psychopath—someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill people or ruin an entire tournament just for personal interest or amusement.

Damn it.

Five finalists were already dead?

What kind of fucked-up mess is this?

There was no recovering now. This tournament was ruined.

And just yesterday, how many people had worked so hard to make this absurd, fairytale-like event happen?

The laborers who built the coliseum. The imp friends who reviewed every contestant’s application, sacrificing sleep. Me, tearing my hair out trying to come up with compelling event content.

All of that—turning to ash.

And if word got out that this long-promoted event had turned into a bloodbath, the 100,000 spectators packed into the coliseum could explode into violent chaos.

Worse, if Ayra—who had placed uncharacteristically high hopes on this tournament—found out, it was easy to imagine what could happen.

Those deemed responsible for letting this disaster happen might be purged. That backlash could ripple outward, triggering the very revolution we’d tried so hard to prevent. The whole nation could burn.

If it came to that, then all the efforts of those who helped me—Elga, Mirnarmee, Stella—would have been in vain.

That thought made it impossible to forgive this man trampling all over my life and peace. This bastard had to fall. Here and now.

“Don’t wanna show me your ankle? Fine. I’ll just kill you and check for myself.”

Swish.

I stretched my hand toward the bastard who kept flapping his mouth and instantly invoked the mana I’d been storing.

7th-tier.

“Abyss of the Underworld.”

KUUUUUNG—!

“Guh—!?”

Blood vessels bulged in the confident dark swordsman’s face. It was obvious how much force was crushing him.

KUUNG.

Still seated on the bench, Andromalli was slammed flat to the floor. Blood burst from both nostrils in two red jets.

“Uughghh, I can’t move a finger. What the hell is this...?”

He seemed completely unable to grasp the situation. He was now being pressed under the merciless gravitational force of a 7th-tier grand spell—Abyss of the Underworld.

“GRAAAAH—!”

Crunch—snap—CRACK.

The sounds of benches, stone, and bones being crushed echoed hideously. It must’ve felt like being pressed beneath the fingers of a giant.

Unlike the spells I normally used for capture, this one was an unforgiving kill spell. But with a dangerous criminal like this on the loose, I had no choice but to use overwhelming force.

“Go rot in hell.”

As I gave him that light curse and increased the pressure—

“...Hell? We already came from there. Do you even understand the depths of that name?”

CHRRRRR...

Chains coiled around his arm began to unravel. Then something sharp flew toward the back of my neck.

SHWEEEEEK—!

━GrrRRRrgh...!

A loud growl, and something wrapped around me.

Turning my head, I saw a hook- or question mark-shaped blade embedded in my thick mana shield.

A surprise attack?

Now I understood how the other winners had been taken down. Dodging a strike like that from the blind spot would’ve been near impossible.

Swish swish.

Paper-spider Bael had sprung out of nowhere and climbed onto my shoulder. Without her, I might have taken some serious damage.

━Grrr...!

Bael snuggled into my chest, growling as if scolding me. I nodded.

“Yeah, I let my guard down.”

I hadn’t expected him to counterattack while being crushed by a 7th-tier spell.

That final attack had been like a honeybee’s dying sting. The swordsman’s body now lay unmoving, incapable of speaking or moving. His neck must’ve been broken—his consciousness shattered.

Cardiac arrest. Total system shutdown.

The shock of having killed someone surged through my chest like wildfire. A psychological sprinkler called He deserved it anyway sprayed over it in defense.

If it weren’t for Bael absorbing my emotions—and 《Calm Thinking》 keeping me steady—I’d be shaken.

“But wait... didn’t he say we?”

Swish.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I turned.

A pair of wide, shocked blue eyes stared back at me.

“W-what is this?!”

The girl’s mouth gaped open as she screamed at the gruesome scene in the waiting room.

Wasn’t she Aslan of Orléans? I remembered she was the Group H finalist, meaning her match had ended and she’d won within that short time.

Problem was, she looked at me and began to growl like a furious leopard.