Summoned a Hero But Got a Villain Instead-Chapter 98: Every Villain Is a Hero

Dante looked sad. He held his head in his one good hand. The polished marble floor of the boutique suddenly felt like a cold, mocking surface beneath his feet.

"No way," he murmured, his voice low and defeated. "That can’t be."

’He’d missed it. The perfect chance. A golden opportunity, handed to him on a silver platter, and he’d been too blind to see it.’

’He could’ve plundered this entire, magnificent mall. He could’ve stripped it bare of its treasures and walked away with an arsenal of artifacts that would’ve made kings weep. And it would’ve cost him nothing.’

Elena, who’d been enjoying her small victory over the flustered shopkeeper, saw the look on his face. The triumph in her eyes faded, replaced by genuine, guilty concern.

"Umm, sorry," she said, her voice small and apologetic. "It wasn’t like I was deceiving you. But you never asked."

Dante looked up from his hands. The sad, defeated look was gone. In its place was a burning, intense light. Not anger. It was the pure, unfiltered greed of a tyrant who’d just seen a mountain of gold slip through his fingers. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"That’s not what I meant," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "I missed the opportunity. I would’ve bought more if I’d known."

He looked up at her. His face glowed with a sudden, brilliant, utterly shameless idea.

"Can I buy more stuff here?" he asked, his voice hopeful and pleading. "And there? Please? With your authority?"

Elena’s jaw dropped. She stared at him, her beautiful face a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. Then the shock was replaced by profound, utterly disappointed disgust.

"No way," she said, her voice cold and hard. "I would’ve done that. But now, I’m in no mood for free services. Not after seeing how greedy you are."

She turned and looked at Clara. A silent, pointed message in her gaze. ’See? This is the man you’re interested in? This greedy, shameless... thing?’

Clara’s response was a single, deadly stare that could’ve frozen fire.

With the mood thoroughly ruined, they left the boutique.

The rest of the shopping trip was a tense, silent affair. They ate at a high-end restaurant on the top floor of the mall. It was a place with a panoramic view of the glowing, magical city. The food was a work of art, a symphony of flavors that Dante’s newly reawakened taste buds savored with intense, religious focus.

But the silence at their table was as cold as Masha’s ice.

After their meal, they moved to the dessert section of the mall. It was a beautiful, whimsical place that smelled of sugar and baked goods.

Dante, his good mood completely restored by the delicious food, began to select gifts for his team. He chose a box of rich, dark chocolate truffles for Masha, a selection of delicate, fruit-filled pastries for Talia, and a large, celebratory cake for the whole team. A small, hopeful gesture for the battles to come.

He was in the middle of paying—with his own stolen credits this time—when he felt it.

A new presence.

A figure had appeared at the far end of the dessert hall. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved with quiet, purposeful authority. The cheerful, bustling crowd parted before him like water before the bow of a ship.

Dante’s good mood vanished, replaced by cold, familiar dread.

’Now what?’ he thought. ’One more problem? I guess my happy end is still far away.’

He looked at the girls.

Elena was the first to see him. Her bright, cheerful expression froze. The color drained from her face, and her body began to tremble—a small, almost imperceptible shiver of pure, primal fear.

Then Clara saw him. Her cool, indifferent mask, the one she wore like a second skin, shattered. Her grey eyes widened, and the coldness was replaced by raw, panicked terror.

Elena took two stumbling steps back, hiding behind Clara.

Dante moved, placing himself in front of them both. A silent, one-armed shield.

He murmured under his breath, his voice low and grim.

"This looks bad."

The man didn’t slow. He walked with a steady, unhurried pace, his gaze fixed on them. His cool, intelligent grey eyes held a universe of power and a complete, utter lack of patience.

He stopped right in front of them.

He didn’t look at the girls. His gaze was locked on Dante.

"Get back to your facility," the man said. His voice was low, calm, and absolutely lethal. "Before I kill you right here."

Dante was confused.

’Who is this guy?’ he thought, his mind racing. ’And does he know who I am?’

Before he could even form a reply, Clara moved. She pushed past him, stepping in front of him. Her body was a small, fragile, but utterly defiant shield.

"Dad!" she said, her voice a mixture of fear and desperate, pleading anger. "How can you be so rude to someone like that? He’s not like what you think! He—"

"Enough, Clara."

Her father stopped her mid-sentence. His voice wasn’t loud, but it held absolute, unshakeable authority that made the very air seem to grow still.

Clara flinched, her defiance crumbling. She knew that tone. It was a voice he rarely used, a voice that promised consequences. She knew her dad would never behave like that. Not unless it was something serious.

Her father raised a hand. A shimmering, invisible barrier of pure, raw mana erupted around the four of them. It cut them off from the rest of the mall. The sounds of the crowd, the sweet smell of the desserts—all of it vanished.

They were in their own private, silent world.

"Clara," the headmaster said, his voice now low and dangerous. "You don’t know him. So get out of our way."

"But—" she started, but then she saw the look in his eyes. The rage. The cold, controlled, utterly terrifying rage.

She went to her father’s side.

Elena, seeing this, immediately tried to save herself.

"Headmaster," she said, her voice small and trembling. "I don’t have any hand in this. She just forced me into this by using our friendship’s name."

The headmaster didn’t even look at her. "I don’t need your explanation for now," he said. "But I will, eventually. After I’ve taken care of this matter."

He then turned his full, undivided attention to Dante.

"So, hero," he said, the word a cold, mocking insult. "Tell me. Why are you here?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?" Dante replied, his own voice calm and defiant. "I’m free. I can do whatever I want. And don’t forget, you guys are the ones why we’re here, leaving everything behind."

The headmaster’s eyes narrowed. "Let me rephrase it," he said, his voice hard. "How did you come out from the building you were assigned? Didn’t my men give you the orders?"

Dante smiled, a slow, cold, utterly humorless thing. "So it was you," he said. "The one who caged us. And you know me too. So what did I do to get this harsh treatment?"

"To be honest," the headmaster admitted, "it wasn’t my decision. It was the other leaders. Leaving you outside could leak the truth."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Dante with hard-won conviction in his eyes. "But I think it was a wise, if not the best, decision. You’re dangerous."

"Rowan was right this time. The Goddess didn’t summon a hero for us. She summoned a villain. A villain who’s manipulating the other heroes too."

"A villain, you say?" Dante let out a short, sharp laugh. "Huh. But this world needs one to be cured. And don’t forget... every villain is a hero in their own story."

From the sidelines, Clara and Elena stared, stunned. They were watching a complete transformation. The quiet, masked, slightly awkward boy from the dessert shop was gone. In his place stood a king, a tyrant, a being of immense, cold, utterly unshakable confidence.

"Your arrogance, your ego," the headmaster said, his voice a low growl, "it will soon bring you down. And trust me, it soon will."

"I’ve heard this enough since I came here," Dante replied with a bored sigh. "I need something new now."

"Haha," the headmaster laughed, a sound devoid of all humor. "You look confident. But listen to this. My informant told me that Rowan will bring his fighter."

"And he’ll make sure he fights you, by using any means necessary. And you know what?" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a poisonous whisper.

"He wants to kill you right there. For some old grudges."

"And the worst part is," he added, a cruel, triumphant light in his eyes, "he’ll bring the hero, Lucaris. Forget about winning."

"You can’t stand a chance in front of him for ten seconds. Not with the blessing he possesses."

Dante stepped forward. He closed the distance between them until they were almost chest to chest. He looked the most powerful man in this world directly in the eye.

"Try anything you want," he said, his voice a low, dangerous promise. "Use any means. But remember this. I will be the one winning."

"I could kill you here," the headmaster said, his voice soft and tempting. "But it wouldn’t be fun. I can wait."

"You can try," Dante replied, his own smile a mirror of the headmaster’s cruelty. "But remember what I said."

The headmaster held his gaze for a long, silent moment. Then he turned.

"Clara, Elena," he commanded. "We’re leaving."

He dropped the barrier, and the sounds of the mall rushed back in. He walked away without another word, his two terrified daughters trailing in his wake.

Dante stood there for a moment. The hero, the villain, the king, alone in the heart of the enemy’s city.

The game was set. The players were known. And the war for his happy end had just officially begun.