I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

The car screeched to a halt moments later, its driver breathing a sigh of relief. But the real shock was etched on the faces of Irisdina, Luke, and Agatha. They stood frozen, wide-eyed, utterly dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed. It was as if they had just seen a scene ripped straight from an action movie.

It wasn't the sheer improbability of the move that left Irisdina and the others speechless—someone with the right training and preparation could manage such a feat if they saw the car coming in time. What stunned them was how Ivan had been caught off guard, with the car barely less than meter away before he even noticed it. Most people would have instinctively leapt to the side in a panic, but Ivan? He executed that audacious leap over the car with a scary precision no sane person would attempt when staring death in the face.

The more Irisdina thought about it, the more it baffled her. In that situation, with the car hurtling toward her at such speed, she would have tried to jump away or perhaps use her mana to stop it. But what Ivan had done—it was so reckless, so bold, it bordered on arrogance.

Yet, as if he had merely completed a casual warm-up exercise, Ivan walked away without so much as a backward glance. Unfortunately, not everyone was as nonchalant about the incident.

The driver, furious and red-faced, slammed his car door and stormed toward Ivan. "You little brat! Are you insane?!" 

Ivan didn't acknowledge him, continuing his path without even a flicker of interest.

Had any of his former companions from Britannia heard the driver's outburst, the man would have likely met a brutal end. Ludomir, especially, would have made sure he suffered before he died. But Ivan wasn't interested in wasting his energy on such trivialities.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Do you even realize what car you just stepped on?" The driver growled, finally catching up and blocking Ivan's path.

Ivan stopped, tilting his head slightly to glance at the man. His indifferent gaze was enough to silence any lingering outrage the driver had. A chill ran down the man's spine as cold sweat began to trickle down his forehead. His words faltered, fear tightening around his throat. For a moment, the driver was rendered speechless.

"Bastian!" Irisdina's voice rang out, snapping the driver from his paralysis as she hurried toward them.

The driver—Bastian, as it seemed—was quick to recover, recognizing Irisdina's approach. "Milady! This man—"

"He didn't mean any harm, Bastian," Irisdina interrupted. "He was only saving himself. You can't blame him for that. And why were you driving like a maniac?"

Bastian looked flustered, struggling to find an excuse. "I... I didn't want to be late, Milady."

Irisdina sighed, shaking her head. "I've already told you before, there's no need to rush on my behalf. I don't care about arriving exactly on time, no matter what my family thinks."

"Yes…" Bastian nodded meekly.

"And you should—huh?" Irisdina began to turn toward Ivan, preparing to scold him, but he was already walking away.

'What's gotten into him?' 

"Something's definitely off with your neighbor, Lady Irisdina," Agatha said with a soft chuckle.

Irisdina couldn't disagree. She watched Ivan's figure retreating into the distance, her brow slightly furrowed.

Shaking her head, she turned back to Bastian, who was also staring after Ivan, though his expression was pale and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Concerned that she might have intimidated him, Irisdina softened her tone.

"Come along, Bastian," she said gently.

"Y–Yes, Milady…"

***

["This is nothing short of sensational news, Ms. Fog."]

["I completely agree. A marriage between the conqueror and the conquered, and between two people of entirely different faiths—it's truly astonishing."]

["'Astonishing' might be putting it lightly. The entire Holy Continent is in an uproar. I've heard the Holy Empire of Lumiera is absolutely outraged, describing it as a 'blasphemous wedding.'"]

["You're not wrong. Sources from within the church tell us that the Pope himself has officially denounced Britannia, labeling it as an Evil Empire, corrupted by the Fallen Goddess."]

["What will happen to its people, then? The royals seem to be alive and well, don't they?"]

["Yes, they are, too well even. But it may be too late for them."]

Ivan sat inside the Thunder, his eyes fixed on one of the screens. The news of his wedding to Gwenyra had taken over every broadcast since the previous night.

The media had clearly refrained from showing too many images of the ceremony, likely due to the political and religious implications. The union of someone who worshipped the Savior with someone devoted to Seraphiel had proven to be too much—sparking both shock and outrage across the continent.

The atmosphere inside the Thunder was really silencious. 

Even the younger like of his age, who would normally be talking and laughing among themselves, were silent, their attention fixed on the ongoing reports.

"..." Ivan's gaze darkened as the Holy Empire of Lumiera was mentioned. It was the most sacred place on the continent, where the Faith of the Savior held the strongest sway. Gevurah had long considered it the hardest and vital stronghold to conquer.

Ivan listened for a moment longer before turning his gaze away.

'As expected, they've abandoned Britannia.'

He had anticipated this outcome. In fact, it was one of the reasons he insisted on broadcasting his wedding across the Holy Continent. Ivan wanted the Pope to publicly sever ties with Britannia—not only to prevent any future attempts by the Church to reclaim the land, but also to force the people of Britannia to realize they had been forsaken. He wanted them to feel that isolation deep in their bones, to feel that the very institution they had trusted had turned its back on them. Eventually, they would have no choice but to rely on Gevurah, their conquerors.

'They're just simple people,' Ivan thought. 'First, they'll feel despair, pain, sadness. Then the shock will set in. But slowly, anger will rise—anger toward the Pope, who abandoned them for no reason when they were the victims.'

But the Pope did have a reason.

Arthur Pendragon, the very man the Pope had once journeyed to Camelot to bless, sat quietly at the wedding of his own daughter—Gwenyra—who was now married to Ivan, a tyrant steeped in the faith of Seraphiel. To the Pope, it was nothing short of a betrayal, a slap in the face not just to him personally but to the entire Holy Empire.

In the original timeline, Ivan had killed Gwenyra, and without her presence, his rule over Britannia was quite brutal and tyrannical. The Pope, rather than abandoning the kingdom, had fanned the flames of hatred across the Holy Continent, rallying everyone against Gevurah. But this time, things were different. Now, the people were more bewildered and confused than filled with righteous anger.

Ivan's lips twisted into a smirk—an expression that would have been right at home on the face of James Arnold Grayling, the pirate antagonist from Zenon's story who present somewhere within him. If Arnold had been in control, he would've laughed out loud, mocking the Pope openly without a care for his surroundings. But Ivan merely let the satisfaction simmer beneath the surface.

'This feels good,'  he admitted to himself.

Sparing Gwenyra had been the most strategic decision he'd made since regaining his memories. It was a move that altered the course of everything.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. After all, the entire plan had been his idea—the Siver King's idea.

'Queen would be surprised. She'd never believe I did something without the usual motive of trying to touch a woman.' 

Ivan mused with a touch of fondness, thinking about his wife as Siver King. 

But he feared she might really kill him if he told her that he held quite affections for Ludmila, Kamila and a few others from each of his lives.

The more he thought about the people of each of his worlds, the more Ivan understood that he was quite screwed.

He didn't want to imagine the disaster if each of 'his' women of each world met.

Ludmila and Queen were already pretty unstable themselves but there were others as well…

'Whatever. Not like it's possible in the first place. They are in different worlds…'

Brainwashing himself to preserve his mental health, Ivan spent the remaining time thinking about something else, pushing away the absurd mental image of all these women coming face to face.