I'm the Villain, But the Heroines Keep Choosing Me-Chapter 74: Strike Team

She was leading a strike team with Damien into demon territory. If he hit corruption threshold, she’d be responsible for bringing him back. Which apparently required emotional vulnerability and authentic connection she’d been actively avoiding.

And according to Elara, she was already functioning as an anchor whether she’d agreed to it or not.

You already made the choice. Slowly, over weeks of working together.

Had she? Was that true?

Looking back over the past months – the investigation, the partnership, the instinctive trust, the way she sought him out when struggling – it did look like choosing. Just not the formal, decisive choice she’d been waiting to make.

More like slow surrender she hadn’t noticed happening until too late to prevent.

"Damn it," she muttered to the empty room.

---

The strike team departed at midnight, moving fast and light through demon-controlled territory.

Twenty elite soldiers plus Damien and Seria. Minimal equipment, maximum mobility. Hit the command structure and extract before the main demon force could respond.

Simple plan. Likely to go wrong in dozens of ways.

They moved through darkness using Damien’s shadow manipulation for concealment. The abilities were unsettling to watch – darkness responding to his will like living thing, hiding them from demon patrols.

"How much does that cost?" Seria asked quietly as they paused between movements.

"Every use adds to the total. Right now I’m at about seven percent. Manageable." His voice was clinical. "I can operate effectively up to twelve percent. Beyond that, judgment becomes compromised."

"And at what point do I need to extract you?"

"Fifteen percent. That’s when I become more dangerous than useful." He met her eyes in the darkness. "If I reach that threshold, you get your team out. Don’t try to save me."

"Already told you I’m not leaving anyone."

"Seria – "

"Not having this argument again. You’re coming back with us." She kept her voice firm. "Now brief me on how to recognize when you’re approaching threshold. What are the signs?"

He sighed but complied. "Eyes go cold – fully cold, no warmth at all. Responses become purely tactical. Emotional recognition fails – I’ll assess everyone as threat categories rather than people. Speech patterns flatten. And – " He hesitated. " – and I’ll stop using your name. You’ll become ’Captain’."

"So I watch for you calling me ’Captain’ instead of Seria?"

"Among other signs, yes. When you stop being ’Seria’ and become ’resource,’ I’ve crossed into dangerous territory." His voice was quiet. "At that point, you’ll need to do what Elara does. Ground me in present moment. Using connection to pull me back."

"And if that doesn’t work?"

"Then you run. Because I might hurt you without hesitation or regret. Not out of malice – I just won’t care anymore about consequences."

They reached the demon command position at 3 AM – a fortified camp with obvious military structure. Guard rotations, defensive positions, central command tent.

"That’s our target." Damien pointed to the command tent. "Kill whoever’s coordinating this assault, the siege collapses into chaos."

"You’re assuming one commander. What if it’s committee?"

"Then we kill the committee." His voice was already getting colder – using the abilities was taking its toll. "Either way, we eliminate command structure. Captain, position your soldiers for assault. I’ll handle initial breach."

He moved before she could object, shadows erupting in devastating waves. Demons died before they could raise alarm. It was brutally efficient and deeply unsettling – watching him kill with mechanical precision, no hesitation, no emotion.

Seven percent, she reminded herself.

The strike team moved in during the chaos, engaging remaining guards while Damien cut through toward the command tent. Seria fought beside him, watching his eyes for the warning signs.

Still warm. Still human. Still Damien.

They breached the command tent to find not a demon, but a man – middle-aged, well-dressed, human commander coordinating demon forces through sophisticated magic communications.

"Lord Valcrest." The man smiled. "I wondered when you’d arrive. The shadow magic makes you distinctive."

"Who are you?" Seria demanded.

"Lord Merchant Council member Harrison. I’ve been coordinating demon activities for the past year. Very profitable arrangement, really. The demons get intelligence, I get access to resources from beyond the border. Everyone wins."

"Except the people dying," Damien’s voice was flat, cold. "The soldiers you’re murdering with organized attacks. The civilians caught in raids. They’re not winning."

"Acceptable collateral damage for economic advancement." Harrison shrugged. "Surely you understand, Lord Valcrest. You use dark powers yourself. We’re not so different – both willing to compromise morality for practical advantage."

"We’re nothing alike." But Damien’s voice was getting colder, flatter. The clinical detachment creeping in. "You’re a traitor. I’m someone fighting to stay human while killing traitors."

He moved, shadow blade forming, and Harrison died before he could respond.

Quick, efficient, emotionless.

Damien stood over the body, and Seria saw it – the complete absence of satisfaction or regret. Just tactical completion.

"Mission accomplished," he said flatly. "Command structure eliminated. Captain, signal withdrawal."

"Damien." She moved closer. "Look at me."

"The mission is complete. We should extract before reinforcements arrive. Captain, give the order – "

"Look at me." She grabbed his arm, felt shadows hiss at the contact. "How high?"

"Thirteen percent. Manageable. We need to – "

"We need to pause for thirty seconds so I can make sure you’re still okay." She stepped directly into his line of sight. "What’s my name?"

[SERIA: IMPLEMENTING ANCHOR TECHNIQUE]

He blinked, and she saw him fighting the cold efficiency. "We don’t have time for this. You’re the guard Captain. Elite fighter. Someone who – " He stopped, struggling. " – Seria, You’re Seria."

"Good. Hold onto that." She kept her hand on his arm despite the shadows. "We’re going to extract now. But you’re going to remember that everyone on this team is a person, not an asset. Can you do that?"

"I can – " He closed his eyes. " – I can try. But Seria, it’s getting hard. The cold makes everything easier. Caring is difficult. Not caring is – "

"Not an option." She squeezed his arm. "You care because humanity matters more than being efficient. Remember that. For the next twenty minutes until we’re clear. Can you hold on that long?"

"For you." He met her eyes, and she saw warmth fighting the cold. "I can hold on for you."

Her face instantly flushed red, but she was determined.

They extracted, moving fast through demon territory with Damien using minimal abilities to avoid pushing higher. The main force engagement had worked – the siege was collapsing as demons lost coordination.

They made it to friendly lines at dawn. Damien immediately collapsed, exhaustion and corruption overwhelming him.

"Get the Saintess!" Seria ordered. "Now!"

Elara arrived within minutes, and together they worked on stabilizing him. Seria holding his hand, grounding him in present moment. Elara using the deeper anchor bond she’d established.

Slowly, the corruption receded. The warmth returned to his eyes. Humanity reasserted itself.

When he could speak coherently, he looked at Seria with clear recognition.

"You brought me back. You and Elara together."

"That’s what – " She stopped, realizing what she was about to say. " – that’s what partners do."

"Partners." He smiled slightly. "Is that what we are?"

"I don’t know what we are." She stood, suddenly aware of soldiers watching, of Elara’s knowing expression. "But we’re alive. Mission accomplished. That’s enough for now."

She left before the conversation could go further.