Blessed to be the Villain-Chapter 58: Uncommon opinion

The sun hung high overhead, casting its golden rays across the training field, bathing everything in a warm glow. Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly as he tracked the blurred figure darting from spot to spot. To the average eye, the figure would have been impossible to follow, but not for Arthur. His eyes, calm and calculating, locked onto the movement as though time had slowed around him.

The blur stumbled.

In that instant, Arthur vanished from his place, dust puffing up behind him. When it cleared, he was holding Ethan by the back of his shirt, steadying him just before he hit the ground.

Panting, sweat clinging to his pale face, Ethan gasped, "Thank..."

"You're welcome," Arthur replied with a soft, composed smile, gently releasing his grip and allowing Ethan to fall back onto the grass. The sudden loss of tension in his legs made Ethan flop like a sack, but he managed to catch himself halfway with his hands.

Arthur knelt beside him, eyes shining with quiet approval. "You're doing great. To be honest, I'm really surprised with your progress."

Ethan looked up, his silver-white hair sticking to his forehead, his crimson eyes dull with fatigue but still holding a glint of pride. He gave a shallow smile. "Thanks."

Arthur glanced up at the bright sky, a few clouds lazily drifting past. "Why don't we take a break and have a snack?"

Ethan nodded without hesitation. "I'm not gonna complain... Let me guess—your sister's cooking?"

Arthur's lips curled into a grin. "Yeah."

He offered a hand, which Ethan grabbed. With a grunt, Ethan pulled himself back to his feet, his legs slightly wobbly. "That sounds delicious."

They walked slowly toward the same tree from the day before, its shade offering cool relief from the sun's relentless glare. Arthur moved with his usual calm poise, while Ethan's gait was sluggish, every step betraying the exhaustion building up in his muscles.

Once they settled beneath the tree, Arthur opened a large container he had brought along, followed by two bowls, two glasses, and a bottle of water. The moment the lid was lifted, a rich aroma escaped, warm and earthy—the scent of mushroom soup, freshly prepared.

Ethan's stomach growled in approval.

Arthur ladled the soup into both bowls with practiced care, then handed Ethan one along with a soft egg roll. He passed over a small spoon and retrieved one for himself.

The first spoonful made Ethan pause.

The creamy, savory texture melted on his tongue, the mushroom's umami flavor exploding in his mouth. "Mmm…"

Arthur, watching his reaction, smirked. "You like it?"

"Like it? I love it, man! I have to ask—is your sister a master chef or something? This tastes incredible."

Arthur beamed with big-brother pride. "Well, she is in our house."

Ethan huffed, his tone mock-jealous. "Man, you're one lucky fellow."

"I am," Arthur said, his chest puffing a bit as he took a bite of his egg roll.

Not wanting to dwell on the envy gnawing at him, Ethan focused on the meal. The soup warmed his insides, loosening the tight knot of fatigue coiled in his body.

They ate quietly, the only sounds around them being the gentle rustle of wind, birds chirping, and the faint buzz of insects.

Once the food was finished, Arthur gathered the cutlery and packed them away neatly. They leaned back against the tree trunk, basking in the tranquility. A breeze rustled Ethan's damp hair, carrying the earthy scent of the forest and the lingering aroma of the meal.

Yawning, Ethan rubbed his eyes. His body had relaxed so much he could've dozed off right there.

Arthur broke the silence. "So, did you take the potion I gave you for recovery?"

Ethan nodded slowly. "Yeah. Took it last night after dinner. I almost forgot, but it came to mind just before I crashed."

"Good," Arthur nodded in approval. "Your body desperately needs the boost to keep up with this training. Without it, you'd be bedridden for days."

"I get it," Ethan murmured, voice low as he remembered the feeling. "Last night I could barely move. My whole body felt like stone. But this morning? I felt energized. Like… refreshed. Not even close to the same fatigue I had yesterday."

"That's how it should work." Arthur's expression remained neutral, but his eyes showed he was pleased.

Ethan's mind drifted as he thought back to the potion. The bitter taste still lingered faintly on his tongue, but it wasn't just the potion he remembered. No… it was the book he had read before taking it. The one that painted vivid images of blood, steel, and fire. The weight of those words returned to him now.

His expression darkened.

Arthur noticed instantly. "What's wrong?"

Ethan took a moment, inhaling deeply. His brows furrowed. "Nothing… I just…" He exhaled, eyes staring off into the canopy above. "I realized last night… I really hate wars."

Arthur blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. He stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond.

Ethan continued, voice soft but tinged with frustration. "I mean, most people hate wars, right? So why do we keep having them? Why can't we just—" he gestured vaguely, fingers curling "—live in peace? If we all hate it, shouldn't it be easy to stop?"

Arthur shook his head with a sigh. "It's not that simple. People don't always get to decide based on what they like or dislike. Sometimes, war becomes the only option left. The choice is made for them."

Ethan scoffed, lips curling into a cynical smile. "Yeah, right. People always have a choice. They're just too scared to take action."

His tone grew heavier, laced with bitterness. "Why can't we figure out another way to settle our differences—anything other than killing each other? It's always the people in power who start these things, and it's the innocent ones who pay the price."

His fists clenched against his thighs. "They're the ones who suffer. The ones who have nothing to do with it get dragged in and destroyed, while the ones responsible walk away clean. No consequences. No scars. It's so… damn stupid. And unfair. I just hate it."

Arthur watched him, expression unreadable.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Most nobles wouldn't have said something like that. In fact, they wouldn't even care. War was something distant to them—something fought by soldiers, suffered by peasants. But Ethan… Ethan spoke like someone who had seen it. Felt it.

It baffled Arthur.

He wasn't just talking politics or philosophy. He was angry. Emotional. Honest.

And that honesty made Arthur view him in a slightly different light.