I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"What in the world... is he?"

One of the knights stationed behind the fortress walls of Dreonah muttered the question lingering in everyone's mind.

Every gaze was locked skyward, watching—no, witnessing—the unthinkable. A lone boy, barely sixteen, with wild blond hair, had just taken down a war airship. Alone.

It sounded ridiculous, impossible even, but the proof was right in front of them.

The shattered remains of the airship rained down from the heavens, twisted metal and burning debris streaking across the sky. Moments ago, the massive vessel had been a symbol of hope for them. Now, it was nothing more than wreckage, its destruction brought about by a single black spike that had pierced through its core. And at the center of it all—Dimitri.

He barely paused, barely even took a breath before shifting his gaze to the next target. The next airship.

Anson's expression was grim.

Like the others, he was in shock, but he couldn't afford to let it show. Not now. Not when they were in the midst of something this dire.

"So this is Stigma..."

Merlin's briefing echoed in his mind. Stigma—the mysterious power wielded by the followers of Seraphiel. More than just magic, more than just raw energy. Their ultimate weapon.

Anson still didn't fully understand what it was, but one thing was clear—it was lethal. Stigma could take different shapes, possess unique properties, and from what he had just witnessed, its destructive potential was far beyond anything they had prepared for.

His eyes flicked toward Mikhail.

Mikhail was still holding his ground, defending their airship against the relentless onslaught. His Stigma was powerful, but Anson could see the strain in his posture, the slight tremor in the shimmering energy that shielded them. He wouldn't last much longer.

Neither had Dimitri just a minute ago.

Their Stigmas weren't built for defense, yet they were both holding out. That was just how strong their Stigmas were.

"W–What do we do, Anson?"

A voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Anson turned to see an S-Ranked Hunter approaching. The man was an imposing figure, muscles tense beneath his armor, a massive sword strapped to his back. A fellow Hunter from Unadora—someone Anson had fought alongside before. More rival than ally, but that rivalry meant nothing now.

Right now, they stood on the same side, facing the greatest threat their kingdom had seen in centuries.

Anson stared silently straight ahead, before finally speaking. "We send six more airships."

Idir's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Airships weren't just powerful weapons—they were also their best means of escape. Out of the fifty they had, losing even one was costly. These vessels were rare, immensely expensive, and yet, watching how effortlessly Dimitri had taken one down, even fifty suddenly felt like too few.

Anson however didn't hesitate and gave a nod. "They won't be able to overextend their Stigma for long. We just need to hold out, exhaust their energy. Once their Stigma is depleted, they won't be able to use the power that makes them so dangerous. That's when we strike."

Idir considered the plan. It made sense.

Without their Stigma, the enemy would lose their overwhelming advantage. The airships could overwhelm them. But they had to make sure the barrier held until then.

His gaze shifted toward it—the last line of defense for the city.

Dark energy lashed against the barrier in relentless waves, powerful enough to send tremors through the entire city. Even with the protection in place, the ground beneath them quaked.

Then, his eyes landed on her.

Ludmila.

A monster in human form.

She wasn't just attacking the barrier—she was on the verge of breaking through it. In a few minutes she might really do it as absurd it sounded knowing how many people had worked on it and how much time had been spent on it.

"Send four airships against the boy, and two against the girl!" Anson ordered.

At his words, six airships roared forward, their engines igniting as they soared past the protective walls, heading straight for their targets.

Idir, however, was still worried. His gaze turned toward the massive black airship looming in the distance—the one where three more enemies stood.

Mikhail. Kamila. Ivan.

"What about the other three, Anson?"

Anson's expression darkened as he followed Idir's line of sight.

Two of them hadn't even moved yet. They were just watching.

His gaze lingered for a long moment on Ivan—the one who standing at the back observing, not bothered the slightest, watching as dozens of airships unleashed mana beams in rapid succession. And yet, not a single attack was getting through. Every last shot collided uselessly against Mikhail's Stigma.

Anson quickly looked away.

There was something wrong about that man. Something… inhuman.

Finally, he sighed. "We have to put our trust in the Paladin of the Holy Church and Lady Merlin."

Because if even they couldn't stop them… then no one could.

…

…

Back aboard Ivan's massive black airship, Mikhail stood his ground, but it was clear—his Stigma was reaching its limits. His barrier, already riddled with fractures, rippled dangerously under the relentless barrage of mana beams. His Stigma was never meant to form barriers to begin with.

And to make matters worse, Kenneth was finally making his move.

"Be careful," Merlin warned.

Kenneth chuckled. "I'll be back with their heads."

With a confident smirk, he unsheathed his holy sword. Then, in an instant, he kicked off the air, launching himself forward at an astonishing speed, a golden streak against the dark sky.

Mikhail's eyes narrowed as he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Kamila. Take my place."

He wasn't worried. This was all part of the plan. The only reason they were holding back was simple—they were waiting. Ludmila was close to bringing down the barrier. Once it fell, their forces would surge forward, overwhelming the enemy. Until then, their job was to keep the airships occupied, forcing them to focus their fire here instead of supporting the battle below.

But Merlin and Kenneth weren't going to just stand by and watch forever.

Kamila nodded and silently stepped forward, leaving Ivan's side.

The moment she raised her hand, a magnificent black dome materialized, enveloping the entire airship in an impenetrable barrier. Unlike Mikhail's crude and unstable defense, Kamila's Stigma was built for protection. Hers was absolute.

The difference was immediate.

The mana beams that had begun to pierce through Mikhail's worn-down barrier now bounced harmlessly off Kamila's flawless Stigma, deflecting like raindrops against steel.

"Appreciate it," Mikhail smirked.

Then, his gaze snapped toward the incoming Kenneth, who was closing in fast, his holy sword gleaming in the light.

Mikhail took a single step forward—

—And vanished.

"…!"

Kenneth's eyes widened in shock.

In the blink of an eye, Mikhail's fist was suddenly right in front of his face.

With no time to dodge, Kenneth barely managed to raise his arm in defense—

-CRACK!

A crunch echoed through the battlefield as the impact sent him hurtling backward, his body crashing through the sky before slamming into the ground below.

Mikhail threw his head back and laughed. "Come on, Holy Knight! That can't be all you've got!"

Without hesitation, he shot downward, chasing after Kenneth before he could fully recover.

Above, Merlin watched as Kenneth staggered to his feet, shaking off the pain. She let out a small sigh of relief, but her focus quickly returned to the real threat—Kamila and her perfect barrier.

She knew exactly what they were waiting for.

And she wasn't going to let them get away with it so easily.

With a single motion, she raised her staff.

A massive surge of mana erupted around her, bending the air itself under its sheer force. The temperature dropped, the winds howled—power unlike anything before crackled at her fingertips.

If they thought they could just wait for the barrier to fall, they were sorely mistaken.

Merlin's staff blazed with radiant mana. As she channeled her energy, a powerful gale surged forth, coalescing into an ethereal longsword. The sheer concentration of mana within the blade made it look almost unreal—an absurd display of strength to all who witnessed it. This was the work of a true master, a mage who wielded mana as easily as breathing.

Summoning such an immense amount of mana in an instant, she refined her attack further, shaping it with absolute precision. The result was something undeniably devastating—an attack powerful enough to bring down even an SS-rank opponent. And since no one was making a move to stop her, she took her time, perfecting her floating blade until it hovered above her like a divine weapon awaiting judgment.

Her target? Kamila's barrier. Even that formidable defense wouldn't emerge unscathed from an attack of this scale.

With her glowing eyes locked onto her target, Merlin finally lowered her staff.

-WHOOSH!

The wind sword slashed forward at an incredible speed, a cyclone of pure destruction. It cut through the air itself, splitting everything in its wake.

But just as the blade was about to land, Merlin's sharp senses caught something—movement.

Ivan stepped forward.

Slowly. Calmly.

He reached out his hand, and his Stigma flared to life, swirling around him like a living force. In a swift motion, he summoned a golden lance. This wasn't just any weapon—it was an artifact from the Pendragon royal treasury.

Months ago, Ivan had sought Urvan's help in mastering his Stigma, and together, they had devised a solution. His growing Stigma was too volatile, threatening to burst beyond his control, so he found a way to contain it. He used specialized artifacts—relics capable of absorbing and storing the excess Stigma that his body couldn't hold.

And the golden lance in his grasp was one of those artifacts.

With steady footsteps echoing, Ivan tightened his grip on the weapon.

"...!"
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Merlin flinched visibly.

A chilling sense of dread washed over her the moment her eyes landed on the lance, now cracking wildly with eerie black energy.

Ivan's gaze remained locked onto the incoming wind blade. Then, with a sudden movement, he pulled back his arm—and threw the golden lance.

-BOOOM!

The lance rocketed forward at an unimaginable speed, moving even faster than Merlin's sword. The moment the two forces collided, the wind blade was utterly consumed. The once-pure gale darkened, its energy twisting and warping as Ivan manipulated it, using its own force to accelerate his lance further.

Now reinforced by Merlin's mana, the golden lance shot forward with overwhelming momentum—straight toward the barrier around Dreonah.

-BOOOOOOM!

The impact was instantaneous. The barrier lasted only a second before shattering like fragile glass, breaking apart into countless shimmering fragments.