Transmigrated as the Villain: I Will Destroy Fate

Chapter 171: Duality [3]

A concussive blast of yellow-white holy light erupted in the space between them.

The blast was not large, but it was intensely concentrated. It slammed into Bruce, hitting him directly in the chest and throwing him back for the first time since the fight began.

He cursed, his arm flying up to shield his face, his expression twisting in a new blend of anger and surprise.

The front of his clothes was scorched, his skin beneath burned a nasty red color.

"What was that?" Bruce demanded, his voice pained.

Grace answered. "A grenade. I imbued it with my holy energy beforehand. Honestly, I didn’t know how well it would work, but this was a good chance to try it."

Luca did not recognize the word. He understood the result. Bruce was hurt. Wounded.

"I knew someone like you would attack today," Grace continued, her posture calm, her hands empty. "So I prepared. Heavily. I had no intention of entering this battle unready."

Her voice was not loud, but it reshaped the atmosphere of the clearing.

For a moment, Bruce looked less like a predator and more like a cornered animal that had just fallen into a trap.

Grace pressed the opening, her gaze unwavering.

"There is nothing you can do," she told him, the words ringing with absolute certainty. "This battle was decided before it began. You are destined to lose here."

Bruce stared at the three of them – a wounded ice mage, an exhausted protagonist, and a saintess holding no weapon. He was burned, his feints had been read, and his strategy had been countered by a tool he could not comprehend. For the first time, he looked wary.

And Luca realized Grace was not just reacting to this battle.

She had planned for it.

—

Grace looked down at Bruce’s burned body, her expression glacial. The holy light from her grenade had seared his flesh, and the lingering divine energy made it impossible for his demonic nature to heal quickly. He was cornered. Wounded. Beaten.

On the inside, she was screaming.

It was a bluff!

She had no idea Bruce was going to attack today. She hadn’t prepared for him at all. The holy grenades were a last-minute addition to her kit, something she wanted to test would even work. The artifact that countered illusion magic? She had requested that from the church weeks ago, not for Bruce, but for Ronan Ashbourne. The thought that another transmigrator might be running around with unknown abilities had unsettled her, and Ronan’s impossible behaviour during the Inter-Class War was the final push. The artifact was her trump card against him, if she needed it.

But Bruce didn’t know that. From the fear and confusion in his eyes, he was buying it completely. He actually believed she was some grand strategist who had predicted his every move.

He’s actually falling for it!

She remembered a quote from one of the military history books she had read for research back in her old life. Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak. She was doing the second part masterfully. She felt weak, exhausted, and was running on fumes and pure adrenaline, but to him, she must look like a strategic genius.

She had to press the advantage.

Grace raised a hand, and a shimmering arrow of pure white light formed, its tip aimed directly at Bruce’s throat. Luca and Iris shifted behind her, ready to act, but she kept her focus entirely on him.

"Surrender," she commanded, her voice devoid of its usual warmth. "You have been defeated. You cannot use your illusions to escape, because I will see right through them. There is no path to victory for you here."

Bruce coughed, a pained, rattling sound. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his glare filled with a mixture of hatred and disbelief. He spat a wad of blood onto the scorched earth.

"Surrender?" he scoffed, the sound rough. "Not kill? Don’t play dumb, Saintess. You know what I possess. Ravenous Soul. Kill me here, and you can take the power for yourself. Isn’t that what you heroes do? Claim power from the fallen?"

He was testing her. He wanted to see if her ambition matched her apparent ruthlessness. If she went for the kill, it would confirm his view of the world – a place where the strong devour the weak.

Grace’s heart ached.

Kill him? How could she? She had written him. She had crafted his tragic backstory with her own hands, had shed tears for the abandoned boy he once was. She knew the names of the sisters who had tormented him, the reason behind his families desision, the crushing isolation of Algara. Bruce wasn’t just a villain to her. He was one of her children. All of them were. Luca, Iris. Even Ronan, the anomaly she couldn’t figure out. Well, maybe not. He was different, a transmigrator. Either way, she had been sent here to save them, to give them the happier endings she could never quite write.

Killing them was unthinkable.

But she couldn’t show that. Not now.

She shook her head, her expression unyielding. "I have no interest in your power. And I am not so foolish as to kill you while you are thinking of Mesmer or one of his other lackeys. The risk of the power transferring to them is not one I am willing to take."

It was the perfect excuse. Cold, logical, and strategically sound. It framed her mercy as a calculated move, not a weakness.

Bruce stared at her, searching her face for any sign of deception. He found none. Only the unwavering certainty of a person who had accounted for every variable. His shoulders slumped. The fire in his eyes flickered and died, leaving behind only a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. He had been outplayed from the very beginning, at least from his point of view.

He sighed, the sound less like a breath and more like the collapse of a soul.

He stammered, his voice barely a whisper, the fight gone from him. "I... I surrender."