NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: The Big Dawgs!

Meanwhile, in a dusty corner of the kingdom, a rickety ox cart screeched to a stop, spilling out its passengers one by one like a drunk tavern brawl gone mobile.

First, a pale and petite priestess gingerly stepped down, her delicate frame moving like a feather trying not to offend the breeze.

She looked so frail you’d think a sneeze would knock her straight into her next reincarnation.

Behind her came a hulking mass of testosterone, muscles, and misplaced enthusiasm: Sir Galore. His skin gleamed like polished mahogany, his grin stretched from ear to ear, and his fists clenched like he was about to uppercut the planet.

“Fresh kingdom, fresh foes! Someone’s getting their ass kicked today,” he boomed, flexing unnecessarily because of course he did.

The priestess sighed, her soft voice barely louder than a kitten’s meow.

“Sir Galore, please refrain from causing trouble. We are here to verify rumors, not… uh… collect heads like last time.”

She clasped her hands together, clearly praying for patience or possibly for divine intervention.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Galore muttered, already cracking his neck like a man auditioning for a brawl in the middle of a tea party.

But the gleam in his eyes said it all: this man was one insult away from turning the town square into his personal WWE ring.

“Move it, knucklehead!”

A sharp, annoyed voice snapped from inside the cart. Before Galore could process the insult, a leather-clad boot shot out like a cannonball, connecting with his overconfident ass.

The sheer force launched him into the air like a sack of overly muscled potatoes.

“Ahhhh!”

Galore’s manly groan echoed as he crash-landed several meters away in a less-than-dignified heap.

The priestess slapped her forehead, muttering something that might’ve been a prayer or possibly the ancient language for why the fuck am I here?

Out of the cart stepped the culprit: a tall, sharp-eyed woman with curves sharper than her tongue and a permanent scowl that could curdle milk.

She brushed her black leather gloves and surveyed the scene with the satisfaction of a cat who’d just knocked over a vase.

“Gods, how do you even fit all that dumb into one body?”

She sneered at Galore, who was still groaning on the ground like a wounded bear.

“Next time, don’t block the fucking exit. Some of us have things to do, you oversized meathead.”

“Why do you always have to do this, Lady Daphne?”

Aria’s soft voice wobbled like a child trying to scold a lion, clutching her chest as if the stress was physically compressing her already frail existence.

Daphne, her smirk sharper than a dagger dipped in sass, flicked her black-and-white tail. Her matching cat ears twitched as she turned, the picture of feline arrogance.

“Because, sweet Aria, men like Galore deserve it. Blocking my way and daring to breathe in my presence? A crime against femininity. And don’t even get me started on how his eyes practically suction-cup to boobs like he’s dying of thirst. You’re lucky I only kicked him this time.”

“But… Sir Galore did no such thing!”

Aria protested, clutching her pearl-like innocence—or maybe her frail dignity. The moment she saw the walking slab of muscle groaning on the ground, she scampered to him like a mother hen, her hands glowing with healing magic.

“Yada, yada.”

Daphne waved her off, jamming a finger into her ear like Aria’s protests were literal static.

“You’re cute, Aria, but you’re also painfully naïve.”

“You bitch!”

Galore roared as he shot up, brushing off Aria’s healing hands so hard she toppled over like a twig in a storm.

“I swear, one day, I’m gonna wipe that smug-ass grin right off your pretty little face!”

Daphne didn’t even bother turning around, her hips swaying as she strolled away.

“Sure, big guy. Maybe in your next life. Oh wait—nope, not even then. You’ll probably respawn as a dumbass ox who gets kicked around again.”

Her voice dripped with mockery, and her tail flicked with an almost hypnotic rhythm.

“Dream big, though!”

She added with a wink over her shoulder, clearly enjoying the vein bulging in Galore’s forehead like it was her personal comedy show.

Galore stomped his foot, his booming voice echoing across the area.

“Get back here, you damn cat bitch!”

But Daphne? She didn’t even break stride, already taking in the new surroundings like she was the queen of the fucking world.

“It hasn’t even been half an hour, and you guys are already at each other’s throats? Honestly, what should I do with you hopeless misfits, my dear princess?”

The voice drifted out from inside the cart, smooth as silk dipped in honey and laced with enough charm to make every woman in a ten-mile radius contemplate throwing themselves at him.

It was the kind of voice that made panties spontaneously combust and left lesser men like Artis grinding their teeth so hard they could chew diamonds.

And then he jumped down, the golden bastard himself, landing with all the drama of a celestial hero descending from heaven.

His armor gleamed like he’d never seen a single speck of dirt in his entire life. Every piece screamed perfection, as if the gods themselves took time off their divine schedules to polish it.

His fiery red hair cascaded in waves like a shampoo commercial come to life, his piercing blue eyes sparkled like a summer sky, and his pale skin glowed like he bathed exclusively in moonlight.

The man was, objectively, a walking thirst trap.

“Let’s just get this over with, Sir Rainer.”

came a voice so angelic it could make a choir sound like drunken cats in comparison. It was calm yet commanding, the kind of tone that could lead armies or shatter hearts.

Rainer extended his hand into the cart, and a soft, otherworldly hand landed in his, so delicate and graceful it made his golden armor seem like scrap metal in comparison.

The woman emerged slowly, like a goddess descending from the heavens, her flowing dress catching the wind dramatically—as if the breeze itself had fallen in love with her.

The rest of the team stared like a pack of horny schoolboys seeing their first porno.

Galore’s jaw hit the ground, Daphne’s tail stood stiff as a broom, and poor Aria just clutched her rosary tighter like it was the only thing keeping her from spontaneously combusting.

She was, to put it bluntly, a fucking masterpiece. Her golden blonde hair spilled down her back in silken waves that could probably cure baldness just by existing.

Her porcelain skin looked so smooth you’d swear she’d been dipped in moonlight. And her bright green eyes? They didn’t just hold secrets of the universe—they probably owned the copyright.

Then there were the pointy ears, the final touch that screamed, Yeah, I’m better than you. She wasn’t just royalty; she was the main event. A living, breathing advertisement for perfection with a healthy side of unattainable fantasy.

“Your Majesty.”

Rainer greeted her, bowing with just the right amount of reverence to make everyone else feel like they weren’t bowing low enough.

The rest of the group scrambled to follow suit.

“Enough with the greetings.”

The princess said, her smile dazzling enough to make Rainer’s armor seem dull in comparison. She waved her hand gracefully, but her emerald eyes burned with a fiery determination that could probably set mountains ablaze.

“We have a mission, and there’s no time to waste. We’re here to save my mother. If the rumors about this Eastern continent medicine are true, then I can finally heal her.”