Villain Simulator, Ch 29

Ten minutes later, with the cell door open, Lucas and the guard who had entered earlier left the prison together.

"Doctor, have you finished your task?" another guard asked.

"Not yet. I need to retrieve something and this guy will help me," Lucas patted the guard on the shoulder. "I've already administered a sedative to Scaramouche. Until I return, do not open the cell door under any circumstances."

"Understood!"

The guard seemed deeply honored. After all, who would question the orders of a national hero like Lucas? "Shall I send a few men to assist you? Guard 4524 isn't exactly known for his strength. I could find some stronger lads to help."

"No need. This guy will suffice." Lucas shook his head and then coldly barked at Guard 4524, "Why are you standing there like an idiot? Get moving!"

Guard 4524 said nothing, only nodding silently as he hurriedly followed Lucas.

Once they had walked about 30 meters, ensuring no one else was around, Guard 4524 suddenly spoke in a clear, feminine voice, "I can't believe we actually got away with it."

Indeed, Lucas's plan was surprisingly simple. Using his masterful disguise techniques, he had transformed Scaramouche into the likeness of a guard, allowing them to slip away unnoticed.

With the influence the "Doctor" wielded in Snezhnaya, no one dared to suspect him. Most importantly, the other guards wouldn't believe that a lowly, unassuming guard had been switched right under their noses.

"This was just the easiest part," Lucas replied, showing no signs of relief. "The hard part comes next."

Lucas knew full well that a simple plan like this might fool the guards, but it wouldn't deceive Tsaritsa or the other Harbingers.

Especially Tsaritsa. She had likely been aware of Lucas's intentions for some time. There was a good chance that soldiers were already stationed outside the prison, waiting to ambush him and Scaramouche the moment they stepped out.

This prison break was a gamble from the start.

Even with just a one-in-a-million chance, Lucas had to take the risk.

"What's your plan?" Scaramouche asked, her voice tinged with nervousness.

"I've already instructed Ursa to be on standby," Lucas replied. "As long as we make it out of Snezhnaya, we'll be fine."

"Leave Snezhnaya…" Scaramouche murmured. "And after that, where will we go?"

"Did you know? I bought a piece of land in Sumeru. It's not large, but I've opened a small winery there. I hired some fruit farmers, a winemaker, and even a bard," Lucas gently patted her head with a smile. "We could live in seclusion there—make wine, listen to music. If you'd like, we could even adopt a few kids…"

No one would believe that such words would come from someone who, in the eyes of the world, was no less than a devil.

As Lucas spoke, a soft look of longing appeared in Scaramouche's eyes. 

In the past, she would have scoffed at such sentiments, ridiculing him for dreaming up such nonsense. 

But now, she could picture it in her mind—a peaceful and beautiful future.

"Maybe…" Scaramouche whispered, "we don't need to adopt."

After all, she was no longer a mere puppet. Her body now had the capability to create life.

Lucas immediately understood what Scaramouche was implying, but he could only offer a wry smile in response.

In this world, thanks to the curse he bore from researching immortality, Lucas had long lost the ability to have children.

---

And so, as they walked down that not-so-long prison corridor, Lucas and Scaramouche hastily planned out a future worth dreaming about.

However, deep down, both of them knew that this dream was as fragile as a soap bubble.

Contrary to Lucas's expectations, when they exited the prison gates, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no ambushes—just a few guards smoking and chatting casually.

Given his understanding of the Tsaritsa, Lucas found it impossible to believe she would be so careless. If Scaramouche wasn't handed over, it could bring a massive crisis to Snezhnaya.

But he had no time to dwell on it. Lucas whistled sharply, and a black shadow loomed overhead. From the sky, a massive, jet-black dragon descended, flames of malevolent energy rippling across its body. The dragon landed right in front of Lucas.

This was one of Lucas's greatest creations—the dragon Ursa the Drake.

Creating such a powerful being without divine intervention was a feat only a few people could match, like the alchemist Gold from the fallen nation of Khaenri'ah or Lucas himself.

The few guards nearby jumped in fright at the sight of the massive dragon. Even Scaramouche couldn't help but pale a little.

"What are you waiting for? Get on!" Lucas patted Scaramouche on the shoulder. "Don't worry. It doesn't bite."

Scaramouche huffed softly but leaped onto Ursa's back. Surprisingly, the terrifying dragon let out a low, almost pitiful whimper, seemingly uncomfortable with someone other than Lucas riding it.

"Quit acting like that," Lucas tapped Ursa's head lightly. "From now on, this woman is your master too. Make sure you protect her."

At that moment, Scaramouche's eyes widened in surprise. "W-What did you just say?"

"I said make sure Ursa protects you," Lucas answered, puzzled. "Wait… you don't have your recording device anymore, do you?"

In the past, as a puppet, Scaramouche had several useful mechanical components built into her body.

"Not that!" Scaramouche shook her head. "What you said before that!"

"What I said before…?" Lucas thought for a moment before replying casually, "This… woman?"

"Yes!" Scaramouche's face lit up with joy. "You finally… acknowledged that I'm a woman!"

"Is now the time to talk about that? Fine, fine! You're a woman—adorable, beautiful, soft, and warm!" Lucas sighed and then muttered under his breath, "And also… mine."

As he prepared to jump onto Ursa's back, a sudden sense of danger made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Over the past five centuries, it wasn't just his physical strength that had been enhanced—his senses had become incredibly sharp as well.

Just as he was about to pull Scaramouche off the dragon, a massive arrow of ice shot from the distance, heading straight for Ursa.

Though shaped like an arrow, its size dwarfed even the bolts fired by siege crossbows. This was no ordinary attack—it was divine power, prepared and unleashed at just the right moment.

Even with all his strength, Lucas couldn't stop the incoming projectile. With a loud crack, the giant ice arrow pierced Ursa's chest, and in an instant, both the dragon and Scaramouche were encased in ice.

"Doctor…" an icy, commanding voice echoed from above. "You've disappointed me."

Hovering in the sky was none other than the Tsaritsa, surrounded by swirling snow and ice. Her gaze was cold and imperious, and her presence made the temperature around them plummet dramatically.

The sky darkened, heavy snow began to fall, and thick clouds rolled in, casting everything in a gray, oppressive light.

It had been 500 years since the Tsaritsa had revealed her true power, not since the end of the Khaenri'ah war.

Now, before Lucas's eyes, her youthful appearance was changing rapidly. She transformed into a tall, mature woman with a curvaceous figure, her elegant robes expanding along with her form.

"I gave you chance after chance," the Tsaritsa sighed, though her breath turned into a swirling blizzard. "Doctor, I've always acknowledged the contributions you've made to this nation, but don't think for a moment that I won't punish you."

"I have no intention of opposing you, Your Majesty," Lucas responded with rare humility. "I'm willing to give up everything, even my own life, if it means sparing Scaramouche."

"You don't have the right to negotiate with me," the Tsaritsa said, her tone brooking no argument. "But I will offer you one last chance—give up Scaramouche. The previous deal I offered you still stands. Even if I spare her, Inazuma won't. Protecting her means opposing Snezhnaya… and the world."

Lucas's expression twisted into a bitter smile. "Why is it that despite all I've done for this world, it still insists on pushing me to the brink? Mondstadt, Snezhnaya… I've sacrificed everything for you, and yet, you leave me no choice but to stand against you."

"You've grown arrogant, Doctor. It's almost laughable," the Tsaritsa sneered. "But that ends now. I will ensure your treachery remains hidden, and when you die, I will have you buried as a hero in the Saintess' Cemetery."

The Saintess' Cemetery was the highest honor in Snezhnaya—a burial ground reserved for the nation's most revered figures.

In her own way, the Tsaritsa was being "merciful."

"Sorry, but I've always hated cemeteries," Lucas said, his tone darkening. "All those bodies, rotting away in the dirt… Such a waste of useful material."

"How dare you threaten me?" the Tsaritsa's voice turned icy. "Very well, you'll soon see the consequences of defying me."

With a wave of her hand, the block of ice containing Scaramouche broke free from Usar and floated toward the Tsaritsa.

"If we want to extract the Gnosis, we'll need to destroy this 'vessel,'" the Tsaritsa said coolly. "Inazuma will have no objection to receiving her corpse."

"Give Scaramouche back!" Lucas leaped toward her, but just then, a lightning-clad spear came hurtling toward him from a distance.

Lucas instinctively unsheathed a katana from his waist and sliced the spear in half in mid-air.

The sword was a gift from the "General," a fellow Harbinger, after Lucas's triumphant return from the war with Natlan—a weapon fittingly called Oni-Cutter.

As if on cue, a familiar, confident voice echoed nearby, accompanied by light laughter. "I knew it."

From the shadows emerged a man with striking orange hair and a mask on his face—none other than Childe.

"Doctor, you've been hiding your true power all this time," Childe said with a grin. "That strike was incredible."

"Childe…" Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Are you here to stop me?"

Indeed, the one who had attacked Lucas moments ago was the Eleventh Harbinger, Childe.

"Honestly, I'd love to test my strength against yours, Doctor," Childe said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "But the Tsaritsa has ordered five of us to… take you down."

True enough, four other Harbingers appeared alongside Childe: Z (the Rooster), Columbina (the Damselette), Sandrone (the Marionette), and Capitano (the Captain).

Oddly enough, despite the overwhelming odds, Lucas felt a brief sense of relief.

At least La Signora wasn't among them.

To deploy almost half of the Fatui's elite Harbingers just to deal with Lucas proved that the Tsaritsa acknowledged his formidable power.

Though the Harbingers varied in strength, even the weakest among them had power rivaling that of gods, with the top-ranking Pierro (the Jester) possibly being as strong as a deity himself.

"No need for hesitation," the Tsaritsa commanded coldly. "Eliminate him immediately."

For the Tsaritsa, extracting the Gnosis from Scaramouche was the top priority, leaving the task of defeating Lucas to the other Harbingers.

"Doctor, just surrender already," Capitano, the Tenth Harbinger, stepped forward with a sneer. "Sure, you're high-ranked, but that's only because you've been around longer than most of us. While we were risking our lives on the frontlines, you were cozy in your lab, enjoying your wine and women. Why should someone like you be above us?"

Lucas didn't know much about Capitano, only that he had always resented his lower rank. This was likely his chance to settle the score by belittling the Doctor.

"Why?" Lucas raised his katana, Oni-Cutter, and casually swung it at Capitano.

"For this."

Lucas's swing seemed weak and aimless, as if a completely untrained person had casually waved a sword. He stood at least ten meters away from Capitano, so it was clear that the strike couldn't possibly reach him—it appeared to be little more than an empty gesture.

"Is that all you've got?" Capitano sneered, a mocking smile crossing his face. "I actually expected something from your power, but... *smack*!"

A soft sound, as though something had dropped to the ground, echoed in the air.

At first, Capitano didn't feel anything, but as he instinctively reached for his weapon, he noticed something shocking—his right arm had been severed without him realizing it, now lying at his feet.

"W-what…what is this? My arm!" Capitano screamed, disbelief overtaking him. "How...how could this happen?"

"This sword is called Oni-Cutter. It's not just any weapon—it's my 'scalpel.' People cut by this sword don't feel any pain, which means I can skip the step of administering anesthesia," Lucas explained calmly. "In other words, I can make you watch as I slice your body into pieces, bit by bit."

In truth, Capitano's strength was formidable—as one of the Fatui Harbingers, he wasn't to be underestimated. The only reason he had been caught off guard was his arrogance.

"Damn you! You think you can underestimate me?" Capitano growled. Although a sense of fear had surfaced in his heart, there was no way he could back down in this situation. After all, there were still four other Harbingers beside him. No matter how strong the Doctor was, it was impossible for him to face all five at once.

But just as Capitano was about to retreat a couple of steps, an unexpected development occurred—he felt a sharp pain in his chest. A spear tip, gleaming with purple energy, had pierced through his back and emerged from his chest.

The familiar weapon, glowing with a violet hue, belonged to none other than Childe.

"Huh?" Capitano gasped, turning around in disbelief. Standing behind him, Childe flashed a wicked grin. "Sorry, but unlike the Doctor's fancy weapon, this spear probably...hurts quite a bit."

"Childe! What are you doing?" The Fourth Harbinger, Columbina, eyed him darkly. "Are you betraying the Tsaritsa as well?"

"My loyalty to the Tsaritsa is unmatched," Childe responded casually as he walked over to stand beside Lucas, his tone nonchalant. "But I just did a little thinking. Fighting such a strong enemy as the Doctor would be loads of fun, but if I'm teaming up with you four, that takes away four-fifths of the excitement. And that would be such a waste. So, I'm going to kill you all first. Then I can have a one-on-one fight with the Doctor."

If anyone else had said this, they would have been dismissed as a lunatic.

But coming from Childe, it somehow made perfect sense. After all, he was a battle maniac—or perhaps, more accurately—a true madman.

Though his betrayal was unexpected, it wasn't entirely surprising.

The fight had barely begun, and one of the five Harbingers had already been critically wounded. What had started as a one-against-five situation had suddenly shifted to a two-on-three battle.

Moreover, Lucas had just demonstrated his incredible prowess. The sudden shift in circumstances only heightened the tension.

"Everyone, don't panic," Columbina, evidently the leader of this "elimination squad," quickly took control of the situation, maintaining her composure even after the unexpected twist. "It's still three against two. We hold the advantage."

Besides, the one who had switched sides was Childe, the lowest-ranked Harbinger. There should be no reason for this fight to be in doubt.

And indeed, it seemed so.

"Why are you doing this?" Lucas asked, eyeing the grin on Childe's face with a frown. "This is a foolish decision."

Lucas knew the words Childe had spoken were just an excuse. The real reason was much simpler—Childe just wanted to help him.

------

Author's Note: Well well well! That escalated quickly but as promised I gave you the extra chap!!

Now cmon 400 isnt that far you all can do it for another extra chap atleast!