I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

The bride had arrived.

A collective gasp swept through the room as the nobles laid eyes on her.

Gwenyra Pendragon, the First Princess of the Britannia Empire. Beloved by her people, her name was synonymous with kindness. Her compassion, particularly toward the poor, had earned her the loyalty and adoration of the entire realm. She was more than just a royal figure; she was an icon of grace, empathy, and intelligence—a perfect princess in the eyes of her people.

And there she stood, a vision of beauty in her exquisite white bridal gown. The delicate fabric clung to her form with elegance, cascading in layers of shimmering silk. Her face, mostly concealed by a white veil, was still mesmerizing. Even through the fine fabric, her delicate features seemed to glow, and the subtle pink gloss on her lips was all that could be seen, hinting at the beauty beneath.

She paused for a moment, taking the attention of every noble in the room. Then, with graceful strides, Gwenyra began her walk down the long red carpet that led to the throne. Every step she took drew in the breath of those watching, as if the entire court held its breath in awe.

The train of her gown trailed elegantly behind her, the fabric gliding along the crimson carpet as she moved forward alone, until she reached the raised platform just before the throne. 

For a brief moment, she turned her gaze to the right, where her family sat. Her lips trembled, the slightest quiver betraying her emotions as she saw them.

Guinevere, already on the verge of tears, managed to smile through her emotions. "You are absolutely beautiful, my dear," she whispered softly, her voice trembling.

Arthur, gave her a warm, proud smile. "As expected of my princess."

"You're beautiful, elder sister!" Elaine called out, her voice bright with admiration.

Uther, however, remained silent, refusing to meet Gwenyra's eyes. His jaw was clenched.

Aldan, arms crossed, scoffed, his expression unreadable. His words or lack thereof didn't seem to match the emotions brewing within him. He just couldn't tell them. 

"Thank you," Gwenyra murmured gratefully. Just seeing her family there, even in these dire circumstances, filled her with strength. Their presence bolstered her courage.

She was prepared for whatever lay ahead, even if it meant marrying the incarnation of evil itself.

As long as her family remained safe, as long as her people were protected, she would endure.

"What a crowd we have for this special occasion," came a chuckle from a man striding confidently into the room, his voice laced with amusement. Dressed in black, his attire resembling that of a priest, his sharp glasses gleamed under the dim light.

It was Ludomir.

He was the celebrant chosen to officiate today's twisted union.

"His Eminence Ivan might not be too fond of this crowd of heretics, though," he added with another laugh, his dark humor falling flat among the nobles, none daring to react.

Another monster had arrived.

"Well, let's get this over with and purify these poor souls, corrupted as they are by that so-called 'Savior,'" Ludomir sighed theatrically, shaking his head as he stepped past Gwenyra without so much as a glance at her. He climbed onto the platform and took his place, preparing to begin the ceremony.

Then, for the first time, he looked at Gwenyra directly whose head was lowered, his eyes glinting with a mocking light.

"At least you might have a face a bit worthy of His Eminence," he said with a condescending scoff.

The court remained silent.

Everyone in Gevurah already knew of Ivan's decision to marry Gwenyra. It was his will, and no one dared question it. The Father had approved it without hesitation, fully trusting whatever plan Ivan had in mind.

Ludomir's presence was enough to unnerve the room, but the air grew even colder when two more figures entered behind him.

"Stop scaring everyone, Ludomir," said a smooth, playful voice as Mikhail strode in, followed closely by Dimitri. Both men were dressed in immaculate black formal wear, the gleaming Black Cross of Seraphiel dangling from their chests. 

"You're the one scaring them, Mikhail," Dimitri muttered, stifling a yawn. 

The nobles, already terrified, paled even further. Even with Mikhail and Dimitri suppressing their Stigma, the sheer force of their presence was suffocating, made worse by the bracelets the nobles wore, meant to keep them alive but vulnerable. 

Lucan, in particular, looked ghostly white.

He recognized Dimitri but the man walking beside him—Mikhail, with his grin—seemed even more terrifying.

It was almost unbearable for everyone.

Even Charlie, the cameraman, was trembling as he filmed, his hands shaking so much it seemed as though he might drop the camera at any moment. Yet, through sheer twisted passion for his job, he managed to steady himself. The fact that he was looking through the camera's screen, rather than directly at the monsters before him, was perhaps the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely.

"Lord Mikhail. Lord Dimitri," Ludomir greeted them with a smile, placing a hand on his chest in a gesture of respect.

"You're alone?" Mikhail raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I thought some of those weirdos would have shown up. It is Ivan's wedding, after all." He was referring to the other Legions and Commanders of Gevurah, each overseeing different cities throughout Britannia.

"Unfortunately, yes, Milord," Ludomir replied. "The others seem to be quite preoccupied with their own cities."

Though Britannia had been conquered, many cities were still in the process of being rebuilt, just like Camelot under Ivan's command. Each Legion was tasked with a similar mission, fortifying and restoring the major cities across the land.

Mikhail scoffed not believing a bit the excuse. "They just can't stomach Ivan's guts."

It was no secret that many of the Legion Commanders were bitter about Ivan's rise. He had been appointed Commander in charge of the Britannia campaign, and on top of that, he was given control of Camelot, the capital. Jealousy had brewed among them for some time, but Ivan seemed blissfully unaware of it—or more likely, indifferent.

And despite their resentment, none of them could deny his results. Ivan had not only conquered Camelot, but he was also rebuilding it and reinforcing its defenses faster than any of the other cities. There was no argument against his success.

Ludomir's smile carried a note of pride. "Lord Ivan's accomplishments may inspire jealousy, but the Father is pleased, and that's all that matters."

"The Father, huh?" Mikhail muttered, his tone darkening. Though he respected the Father, he held little fondness for him. Ivan's biological father had shown him little affection throughout his life. Even now, on the day of his son's wedding, he hadn't bothered to attend, despite the significance—even if the marriage was only for show. At the very least, Mikhail thought, he could have come to acknowledge Ivan's achievements.

Nor had any of Ivan's three siblings made an appearance.

He had expected his elder brother not to attend—there was no surprise there—but Mikhail had thought at least Ivan's two sisters would make an appearance. Outside of their fractured family, they were the only ones he truly cared about. Yet, as with many things in Ivan's life, his complicated nature had likely driven them away.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter if any of them show up," Mikhail shrugged, unconcerned. The absence of the other Commanders didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Do you have the Seraphiel's Wedding Cross?" Dimitri asked, turning to Ludomir.

"Of course, Lord Dimitri," Ludomir replied, producing a small designed black box.

"Then everything is ready," Dimitri confirmed.

"Yes, we just need to wait for His Eminence—oh, there he is," Ludomir cut himself off, his eyes locking onto Ivan, who had just appeared at the open doors.

All eyes followed Ludomir's gaze. Ivan entered the throne hall as if he was taking a stroll, closely followed by Ludmila. The moment he crossed the threshold, the room's atmosphere changed. The temperature plummeted dramatically, sending a chilling wave across the hall. Though Ivan had suppressed his Stigma as much as he could, it weighed heavily on the nobles present.

Unable to withstand his mere presence, many averted their gaze, gasping for air as if suffocating despite the protective bracelets they wore. Even so, the force of his suppressed power seeped through.

As Ivan strode forward in silence, a few nobles began to collapse, fainting where they sat. Their bodies slumped over their neighbors, creating a cascade of falling figures like a line of dominoes. Those who managed to remain conscious gritted their teeth so fiercely that the sound of grinding echoed through the hall.

—Thud!

Charlie fell backward in terror, the camera slipping from his trembling hands. Fortunately, the automatic cameras continued to track Ivan's every movement, but Charlie's whole body was trembling uncontrollably.

"W-What... in hell...?" Charlie stammered, shaking from head to toe.

The man walking toward them couldn't be human.

He was a monster.

Even from behind, Ivan's very presence instilled hellish fear in the onlookers.

"What a magnificent Stigma!" Ludomir dropped to his knees, his face lit with a maddened, worshipful grin.

Mikhail grimaced, disturbed by Ludomir's reaction, but his eyes remained fixed on Ivan.

"His Stigma has grown even stronger..." Dimitri muttered under his breath, speaking out the thoughts running in Mikhail, Kamila, and Ludmila's minds.