Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 282: Bluff!

The Aura emitted by the Orc emperor was terrifying, just his presence alone made the surrounding atmosphere feel heavy.

Looking at the huma in front of him, Thraka squeezed.

"Ugh~"

A sickening crack echoed from Captain Vesper’s ribcage. Isabelle, limp in the Emperor’s other hand, they let out a ragged, unconscious gasp.

"Human, I can tell you’re not normal,"

"From within you, I sense a very strange energy?"

Thraka rumbled, his red eyes narrowing as he looked at Damien standing by the Altar console.

"Is this shadow? No Void? No Dragon? Just what kind of being are you?."

"Are you really human?"

Looking at Damien carefully, as an eighth order, nothing was hidden from his eyes

However, it seemed the more he saw, the less he understood

The human in front of him was truly strange.

The Emperor’s gaze shifted to the Pantheon Sword in Damien’s hand. He sneered.

"I know your type. You probably think you are a hero. You think you can trade words for lives."

"But in all my life, I have seen many of your said hero’s fall in the abyss, many of which have been killed by my hand"

Thraka lifted Isabelle higher, dangling her over the magma.

"I will make you a deal. Cripple yourself. Stab that sword through your own stomach. Sever your mana core. If you do that... I will let them go."

Yes, wary of that strange energy, he made such a decision

The Emperor laughed, a sound like grinding tectonic plates.

In his mind, it was the perfect checkmate. If the boy refused, he watched his friends die. If he agreed, he was crippled and easily killed.

Either way, his mental state and physical state would be too broken to make a difference

And hearing this, Damien stood frozen.

He looked at Isabelle, his heart aching once more as he remembered he left her causing her to fall into such a state

Then after another moment of struggle, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

"You promise?" Damien asked, his voice trembling, perfectly acting the part of the desperate hero.

"I am an Emperor," Thraka scoffed. "My word is iron."

"Fine."

Damien reversed the blade.

*SHLUCK.*

He drove the Pantheon Sword backward, plunging it through his own abdomen.

The white crystal blade erupted from his back, coated in crimson.

Blood gushed out, splashing onto the metallic floor of the Altar.

Damien fell to his knees, coughing violently. "Let... them... go."

Thraka roared with laughter.

"Fool! As expected of a human, Sentimental trash!"

The Emperor swung his massive arms. He threw Vesper and Isabelle.

They flew across the chamber, crashing into a pile of industrial waste near the room’s edge.

They were alive, but broken, far too injured to stand.

"Now," Thraka stepped onto the bridge, his massive axe dragging behind him, carving a trench in the steel. "You are finished."

Damien clutched his bleeding stomach. He looked up.

A smile spread across his bloodstained lips.

"Alright, you Orc bastard," Damien wheezed, using the sword to pull himself up.

"Let’s fight. Even if I’m going out... I will go out fighting."

"If that’s the chance, then I accept your challenge, worm," Thraka grinned, raising his axe.

"I will grant you a warrior’s death."

The Emperor charged.

*CLANG!*

Thraka’s axe met Damien’s sword. The impact sent a shockwave that cracked the walls.

Damien was blasted backward, sliding across the floor, leaving a trail of blood.

But internally, Damien wasn’t panicking. He instead was calculating.

’Celestial Life Physique...Don’t let me down’

Deep inside his body, the golden light of his physique surge. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

However this time, it didn’t heal the skin, Damien purposely kept the wound open and bleeding to maintain the ruse, but it knit the internal organs back together instantly.

The pain was real, but the damage was superficial.

"Good, hopefully he’s too busy toying with me to pay attention" he muttered, preparing to take the next blow

And sure enough, as Thraka swung again, Damien didn’t just dodge. He inwardly split his consciousness.

[Skill Activated: The Roundtable of the Greedy King.]

The world slowed. Damien’s mind projected into the grey, misty void of the Roundtable.

In the mist, a ghostly chair appeared. Isabelle’s unconscious form materialized in it.

"Isabelle!" Damien’s mental voice boomed. "Wake up!"

Isabelle jolted in the dream space. "Master? Where...?"

"Listen to me," Damien ordered, his projection standing tall and uninjured.

"I am going to need your help in a bit, not only that, but you have to move now."

He waved his hand. A projection of the Blood-Key materialized on the obsidian table.

"I’m sending the Key to you via this space. When you wake up, you will find it in your hand. Crawl to the Altar and Summon the Duke."

"But Master... you..."

"I’m buying you time," Damien said, his eyes flashing gold.

"Do not waste it."

*SNAP!*

Reality rushed back.

*WHAM!*

Thraka’s fist slammed into Damien’s chest.

Damien flew through the air, smashing into a pillar. He felt ribs crack, for real this time.

"Boring," Thraka yawned, walking toward him.

"You are too slow, too weak and are bleeding out."

Damien coughed, spitting a glob of blood onto the Emperor’s abyss-steel boots.

He swung his sword, a clumsy, desperate strike.

Thraka caught the blade with his bare hand.

"Pathetic," the Emperor sneered.

He wrenched the sword from Damien’s grip and tossed it into the lava pit.

He grabbed Damien by the throat and lifted him up.

"I expected more from a rat who knew my Lord’s name," Thraka said, squeezing.

"But you are just another disappointment."

He pulled back his other fist, preparing to turn Damien’s head into paste.

"Any last words?"

Damien’s legs dangled. His vision swam. But looking over Thraka’s massive shoulder, he saw a bit of movement.

Isabelle was awake. She was dragging herself across the floor, leaving a trail of blood slowly reaching the console.

Damien’s bloody lips curled into a grin.

"Yeah," Damien choked out. "It’s too late."

Thraka frowned. "What?"

"ISABELLE! NOW!"

Thraka spun around.

Isabelle slammed the *Blood-Key* into the slot.

"Get ready! you orc bastard!" she screamed.

**HUMMMMMMM.**

The Altar of Iron began to glow and scream.

A pillar of crimson light erupted from the floor, piercing the ceiling of the cavern.

The air pressure dropped instantly as a massive spatial tear opened directly behind the Emperor.

"What?!" Thraka roared, dropping Damien.

From the red light, a hand, pale, elegant, and wreathed in the power of a Blood Monarch reached out.

It grabbed the edge of the portal.

"Thraka!" a voice smooth as velvet and cold as death echoed through the chamber.

"It’s been a while."

Duke Varic Vane stepped through the fire.