I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist-Chapter 177: [Flashback] [Isaac Crawford] [3]

Cateran was never a city of great significance within the Empire. It was just another ordinary settlement, one of many scattered across the vast lands. That was precisely why no one—least of all Isaac—could understand why Nimue had chosen to take it.

What was the reason?

Why this city, of all places?

No one had an answer.

Standing a hundred meters from the city's gates, now under the control of the Charentra rebels, Isaac looked at the city. From the outside, everything seemed deceptively normal—buildings stood intact, the streets were quiet—but the truth was undeniable. The city belonged to Charentra now.

The gates were shut tight. No one was allowed in. No one was allowed out.

"Lord Crawford."

A knight of the Empire approached him.

"We can't say for certain, but our best estimate is that at least a thousand Charentra rebels are inside. They've taken the residents hostage, yet… strangely, none of them have made demands. Not a single word. Even though they must have known we were here for some time now…"

His voice trailed off. It made no sense. Why seize an entire city only to remain silent? What were they waiting for?

Isaac didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the city. Then, without another word, he stepped forward.

He walked until he was only a dozen meters from the entrance.

The walls weren't particularly tall—not enough to obscure the movements within. He didn't even need his eyes to count the figures lurking beyond the stone barriers. He could feel them.

"This is my only warning."

Isaac spoke up with his voice devoid of any emotions.

"Come out now, and I will grant you a swift, painless death." His gaze narrowed. "Stay hidden like cowards, and I promise your suffering will be long and excruciating."

The silence deepened.

"I'll give you ten seconds. Have your leader step forward."

Then, he simply stood there, waiting.

The seconds stretched. The wind howled against the walls, dust curling in the air. And yet, no one emerged. No voice called out.

Not even at the very last moment.

When the countdown reached zero, a violent surge of mana erupted from Isaac's body, rippling outward in powerful waves. Even his own men, seasoned warriors who had witnessed this spectacle before, instinctively recoiled in fear. It didn't matter how many times they had seen it—his mana was always overwhelming, suffocating in its sheer intensity. Yet, despite its terrifying nature, it remained completely under his control.

Isaac's grey eyes gleamed with a cold light as he surveyed the city before him. Then, with a slow motion, he stretched out his hand. In an instant, a long rifle materialized from thin air, its sleek, silver form pulsing with his energy. He gripped it firmly, leveling the barrel toward the city's front gates.

A hush fell over the battlefield. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Then—

-BOOM!

The rifle discharged with a thunderous roar, and a silver bullet shot forward at an incredible speed, a streak of pure destruction cutting through the air. It slammed into the city's defenses, but instead of shattering the gates, it struck something unseen—an invisible barrier of mana.

A deep tension filled the air as the bullet struggled against the shield, its force pressing violently into the shimmering energy field. For a moment, it seemed like it might pierce through. But then, with an abrupt recoil, the bullet was repelled, all its power dissipating into nothing.

Isaac narrowed his eyes.

This wasn't an ordinary barrier.

He didn't need to be a genius to figure out who was responsible. Nimue.

He had heard the stories, the whispers of her sorcery. So this was her work?

Why was she hiding behind it?

Did she truly believe this barrier would be enough to keep him out?

Isaac raised his rifle again. This time, the mana surging through him intensified—a raging storm of mana crackling in the air around him. His black hair was swept back by the force of it, the rifle in his hands glowing even brighter, humming with barely contained destruction.

If the first bullet wasn't enough—then he would simply break through.

He took a moment, charging his mana. The bullet he chose this time wasn't just stronger—it was built for resilience, designed to tear through anything standing in its way. The ground trembled beneath him as mana coiled around his body like a hurricane.

Then—

-BOOOOM!!!

The second shot tore through the air, the force behind it so great that the very earth cracked in its wake. The bullet struck the barrier, and this time, resistance was nonexistent. The shield shattered instantly, splintering like fragile glass.

But Isaac wasn't foolish enough to believe it would be that easy.

As expected, another barrier flickered into existence behind the first, hidden in plain sight.

A smirk tugged at Isaac's lips.

He had anticipated this.

Even before the first barrier collapsed, two more bullets had been released, following in the wake of the first like shadows in a hunt. The moment the second shield revealed itself—

-BOOOM!

Both bullets struck at once, obliterating it in a heartbeat.

And yet, a third barrier stood beyond it.

But it didn't matter.

Because when all three bullets collided at the same point, their combined energy created a devastating gravitational collapse—

And the third barrier didn't just break.

It ceased to exist.

The moment the third barrier collapsed, the walls behind it vanished—not crumbled, not fell, but simply ceased to exist. In their place was a massive, gaping hole, its edges jagged and raw, the force of the destruction leaving nothing but obliteration in its wake.

A stunned silence followed.

Mouths hung open in disbelief. Those unfortunate enough to have stood behind the walls had been erased from existence—nothing remained of them.

Isaac stood tall amidst the destruction, his rifle still humming with residual mana.

"Are you going to come out? Or will you hide like a coward, just like the lowly scum of Charentra?" He asked with a sneer.

They were clearly words of provocation.

And they seemed to have worked.

High above, the fabric of the void rippled. A spark of fire crackled into existence, swirling outward in a mesmerizing dance of purple. The flames spiraled, growing, shaping themselves into a magnificent whirl of purple energy before, finally, they parted.

And she stepped forth.

A woman, draped in a flowing, sleeveless black gown, the fabric wrapping elegantly around a perfectly sculpted figure. Her long, dark hair cascaded freely, gathered just enough to reveal a pointed hat resting atop her head—a witch's mark.

She floated in the sky, arms crossed.

Deep purple eyes met Isaac's, rich with amusement. A slow smile curved her glossy purple lips as she gazed down at him.

"Called for me, Lord Crawford?" Nimue asked with a playful tone.

Isaac's grip on his rifle tightened, but his expression remained calm. "Surrender yourself, and I will spare your life."

The words were spoken with restraint—he refused to let her mockery pull him into a reckless reaction.

Nimue tilted her head, tapping a slender finger against her chin in feigned contemplation. "Surrender myself?" Her gaze never moved away from his. "I've heard plenty about the great Isaac Crawford. Yet, never once have I heard of him 'sparing' anyone from Charentra. Was that a lie, Lord Crawford?"

Isaac's expression darkened. "Watch your tongue, miserable woman."

The corners of Nimue's lips curled, her amusement only deepening at his obvious irritation.

"Won't you even ask why I took the town?" She asked, raising a brow.

Isaac scoffed. "I'll ask once you're in my custody." His tone was tinged with a promise—one that spoke of far worse than mere imprisonment.

Nimue giggling, placed a hand dramatically over her chest as if trying to shield herself. "Lord Crawford! I never took you for a man who violates women."

-BANG!

The air cracked as a bullet whizzed past her neck.

A blink.

Nimue's expression didn't change, but she knew—if she had been just a fraction slower, that bullet would have torn through her throat.

Her eyes flickered back to Isaac.

He stood with his revolver raised, the smoke still curling from the barrel. His expression was even colder than before. He was clearly not in the mood to joke around.

"I don't like people who talk too much," he said as he channeled mana through his revolver once more. "Get on your knees. Now."