Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 274: Third Party

The Blood-Stained Map

The War Room of Crimson-Hold was a masterpiece of gothic strategy.

The walls were lined with the severed heads of beasts from the lower layers, their eyes preserved in glass, staring eternally at the center of the room.

Dominating the space was a massive table carved from a single slab of obsidian.

Above it, a holographic map projected in blood-red light hovered in the air, displaying the topography of Layer 4.

It was a grim picture. The Crimson Plains were slowly being swallowed by a tide of grey steel.

"You want the coordinates to Layer 5?"

Duke Varic Vane sat at the head of the table. He leaned back in his high-backed chair, swirling a goblet of thick, viscous wine. He looked every bit the apex predator, pale skin, horns of polished obsidian, and eyes that held the cold indifference of a glacier.

He laughed, a dry, humorless sound that echoed off the stone walls.

"I have generals who have served me for centuries who dare not ask for such a privilege. And you, a ’Wandering Baron’ with a fake name and no history, walk into my sanctum and demand the keys to the deeper dark?"

The Duke slammed the goblet down. The liquid sloshed over the rim.

"You are either a fool, Baron Dante, or you have a death wish."

Standing by the door, Elian Vance shivered, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even Seraphina Vane, standing rigidly by her father’s side, looked nervous. She bit her lip, glancing between the terrifying Duke and the enigmatic guest she had brought home.

But Damien didn’t flinch.

He walked calmly toward the map, his boots clicking rhythmically on the stone floor. He didn’t look at the Duke. He looked at the frontlines.

"I am neither, Duke Varic," Damien said, his voice distorted by the porcelain mask, cool and bored. "I am simply a businessman. And looking at this map... it seems you are in the market for a miracle."

He reached out, his gloved finger tracing the line where the Vane forces were being pushed back.

"You are losing," Damien stated bluntly.

The room went deadly silent. The guards by the door tightened their grips on their halberds. Seraphina’s eyes widened. No one spoke to the Duke like that.

"The Iron-Blood Clan," Damien continued, ignoring the tension. "They aren’t fighting like demons, are they? They don’t charge in with bloodlust. They hold positions. They use suppressive fire. They advance behind armored columns."

Damien turned his head, the empty eye sockets of his mask staring at the Duke.

"You fight like a noble, Vane with use blood arts, curses, and duels. But your enemy uses steel and combustion "

"After all, you cannot curse a tank and you cannot intimidate a machine."

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy, the temperature dropping freezing.

"You possess a sharp tongue, Baron," Varic whispered, standing up slowly.

BOOM.

A wave of 7th-Order pressure exploded from the Duke’s body.

It was more than abyss mana; this was Authority. The sheer, crushing weight of a High Noble who had ruled a layer of the Abyss for centuries. The holographic map flickered and distorted. Elian collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. Even Seraphina had to brace herself against the table.

It was a test. A crushing wave meant to force Damien to his knees, to strip away the arrogance and reveal the weakling beneath.

"Kneel," the Duke commanded, his voice vibrating in the bones of everyone present. "And perhaps I will let you leave with your head." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Hearing this, Damien stood perfectly still.

He didn’t cast a spell, he didn’t draw the Pantheon Sword. He didn’t even flare his mana.

Instead, he simply adjusted his cufflink.

Inside his chest, the Will Core spun. The [Greedy King’s Intent] woke up, not the loud, roaring dragon of the surface, but the cold, absolute certainty of a being who refused to be ruled.

He wrapped the intent around himself like a second skin.

CRACK.

The crystal wine glass on the table shattered.

The Duke’s pressure hit Damien and... slid off. It was like a wave crashing against a cliff face. Damien didn’t buckle. He didn’t shake. He simply stood there, an anomaly in the Duke’s domain.

"Is that it?" Damien asked softly.

He took a step forward. The pressure around him warped, bending to his reality.

"I have stood before Monsters stronger than you, Duke Varic. I have looked into the eyes of the Void. Do you really think a little gravity is enough to make me bow?"

Duke Varic froze. His crimson eyes dilated.

He realized in that second that this man wasn’t just a Baron. The mental fortitude required to shrug off a High Noble’s pressure without using mana was terrifying. It implied a soul density that rivaled the Warlords of the Deep Layers.

The Duke slowly sat back down. The crushing pressure vanished instantly.

"Interesting," Varic murmured, a spark of genuine curiosity replacing the disdain. "You are not a fraud."

He gestured to the empty seat across from him.

"Sit, Baron Dante. Let us talk about this... miracle."

Damien sat down, crossing his legs. "The coordinates to Layer 5. That is my price."

"The path to the Deep Layers is restricted by the Council," Varic said, tapping his finger on the obsidian table. "However... I am the Council in this region."

He waved his hand, and the map zoomed in on a specific sector. A massive, jagged canyon spanned a river of lava, connected by a single, fortified bridge made of black iron.

"The Black Bridge," Varic said. "It is the primary artery for the Iron-Blood supply lines. They have held it for three months. They have set up a blockade that my Blood Knights cannot break. They use... strange weapons. Cannons that fire condensed mana without casting."

Damien looked at the hologram. He recognized the crude barricades. He recognized the design of the cannons.

Dwarven tech, Damien thought, a cold fury simmering in his gut. Crude copies of the Magitech I introduced to the surface.

"If you want the coordinates," the Duke said, "you will lead the vanguard. Break the siege. Destroy their commander, Warlord Gorr. Bring me his head, and I will open the gate to Layer 5."

"Done," Damien said.

"One more thing."

The Duke pulled a jagged obsidian dagger from his belt. He slid it across the table.

"A Blood Pact. To ensure you do not turn your coat the moment you leave the city."

Damien looked at the dagger. A Blood Pact would bind his soul to the System of the Abyss. It would expose his status as a Human, his System interface, and his lies.

"No," Damien said.

Seraphina gasped. To refuse a Pact was an insult.

"I do not sign papers, Duke," Damien said, standing up. "And I certainly do not bleed for contracts. My word is my bond. If I fail, I die on that bridge, and you lose nothing. If I succeed, you’ll pay me."

He leaned over the table, his mask inches from the map.

"I am Baron Dante. I do not serve. I trade. Take the deal, or I’ll walk away."

The tension in the room spiked again. The Duke stared at Damien, his hand hovering over the dagger. For a long moment, the only sound was the humming of the map.

Then, the Duke smiled. It was a sharp, predatory grin that revealed fangs.

"Arrogance," the Duke chuckled. "I like it. It reminds me of my younger days."

He put the dagger away.

"Very well. No pact. But know this, Dante... if you betray House Vane, there is no hole in the Abyss deep enough to hide you."

"I’ll keep that in mind," Damien said dryly.

He turned to leave, his coat swirling around him. Isabelle and Elian, who had been holding their breath the entire time, scrambled to follow.

"Baron," the Duke called out just as Damien reached the door.

Damien paused.

"You mentioned their tactics. The machines." The Duke’s face darkened. "Do you know where they come from?"

"I have a guess," Damien said.

"They found a cache," the Duke revealed, his voice dripping with disgust. "The Iron-Blood scouts discovered a crashed vessel in the Wastes a year ago. It contained scrolls. Diagrams. ’Blueprints’ from the Surface World."

Damien’s fist clenched inside his pocket.

"They are building weapons based on the designs of a Surface race called... Dwarves."

Damien didn’t turn around. He didn’t want the Duke to see the look in his eyes.

It wasn’t just a copy. It was most likely a leak. Someone on the surface, likely the remnants of the Dragon Empire or the Void Cult was actively feeding technology to the Abyss to fuel this war.

"Is that so?" Damien whispered, his voice dangerously low.

"How unfortunate for them," Damien opened the door, "If I hadn’t been here, then perhaps their plan might have succeeded."

He said as he walked out into the red-lit corridor.