Reincarnate as the Villainess's Husband - Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Ezekiel 25:17
The man with the pipe had a confident expression, but for a moment, it faltered. He glanced around at the people nearby, then took a deep breath. As he placed the pipe on the table, his voice was calmer and more measured than ever.

“Velmuth, my friend,” the man said, a thin smile appearing at the corner of his lips. “When have I ever failed to pay my debt to you?”

Velmuth’s brows furrowed. He clenched the fist he had placed on the table, causing the wooden surface to creak slightly. “When, you ask? Three months ago. And since then, I’ve sent you three separate messages. But you neither replied nor made a payment.”

Neonidas tilted his head slightly, noticing that despite Velmuth’s pressure, the pipe owner was still searching for a way out.

The man let out a deep sigh, then shook his head slightly. “Look, it’s not about the money, it’s just—”

Neonidas raised a hand, cutting him off. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his voice, though calm, was as sharp as a blade. “It is exactly about the money.”

A deadly silence settled over the room. The other men sitting at the table began shifting in their seats. One of them slowly moved his hand toward his belt—likely reaching for a weapon.

Neonidas noticed this and, without hesitation, formed his hand into the shape of a gun and fired a beam of light at the man.

The pure light bullet shot from Neonidas’ hand, slicing through the dim candlelight in the room like a streak of brilliance. In the blink of an eye, it found its target.

The man reaching for his weapon was hit squarely in the chest, the beam piercing his flesh and bones instantly. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the room. His eyes widened in horror, his mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came out. He stumbled for a few seconds before his lifeless body slid off the chair and collapsed onto the floor.

The entire room froze. The man with the pipe had let go of it, his face drained of all color. The others were either too shocked to move or not foolish enough to try to flee.

Neonidas, however, remained unfazed. He turned back to the pipe owner, his voice still calm but now laced with a hidden savagery.

“Now,” he said, locking eyes with him. “Will you pay your debt, or will the next beam of light find you?”

Sweat trickled down the pipe owner’s forehead. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. Finally, he took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Yes… Yes, I’ll pay immediately,” he muttered.

Neonidas smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in it. His eyes remained fixed on the pipe owner, like a predator watching its prey. The man’s hands trembled as they reached into the inner pocket of his belt. Even as he pulled out the pouch, his fingers still shook. Amid the heavy silence filling the room, the metallic clinking of gold coins echoed like a distant bell.

Velmuth slowly reached for the pouch, checking its contents without breaking eye contact with Neonidas. He seemed satisfied, though his expression still lacked complete approval. He gave a slight nod and turned to Neonidas.

“We have the pouch,” Velmuth said, his voice as cold as a judge delivering a verdict. “But we have another matter to deal with now.”

As he spoke, he glanced at the lifeless body on the floor. In the far corner of the room, one of the men held his breath, his gaze fixed in place. No one dared to confront Neonidas directly, but tension was evident on every face.

The pipe owner, still in a panic, leaned forward on the table, trying to speak. “Please… let’s not escalate this. I paid my debt, didn’t I?”

Neonidas narrowed his eyes, studying the man in silence for a few seconds. “Do you read the Bible, old man?”

The pipe owner looked around, as if trying to decipher what Neonidas meant. “The Bible? What is that?”

“I memorized a passage that fits our current situation perfectly… Ezekiel 25:17…”

He paused. For a moment, he noticed the widening eyes of everyone in the room. He could sense that some of them were expecting these words, that they found them oddly familiar. But he was a man who made his own rules. He sighed softly and shook his head.

“Ah, damn it… I forgot the line! That would’ve been such a cool scene. Fuck… Everyone just imagine I said something really badass.”

The tension in the room momentarily shifted into something different. Neonidas’ indifference had given these men, standing at the brink of death, an unexpected moment of surreal absurdity. Everyone here knew that beneath Neonidas’ jokes lurked a sharp and lethal threat.

The pipe owner was still trembling. He had paid his debt, but the hunger in Neonidas’ eyes told him this matter was far from over. He had made a mistake—a grave one.

Slowly, he began to step back, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. His fingers twitched in the air, as if preparing to pull an invisible trigger. He took a deep breath, and pure light began to gather at his fingertips. It flickered at first, like a thin thread, then suddenly intensified—like a lightning bolt piercing the darkness.

There was an explosion.

The beam of light struck the pipe owner’s chest, piercing through his flesh and bones as if they had never existed. His eyes widened in terror, his mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound emerged. His body jerked backward, toppling over with his chair, and landed on the ground like a lifeless sack of sand.

The other men in the room reacted immediately. One reached for the knife at his belt, another tried to retreat. But Neonidas had already planned his next move.

His floating hands glowed once more. As he aimed at the second man, another beam of light shot across the room, illuminating the dark space. The man staggered backward with a burning hole in his abdomen. He couldn’t even scream before collapsing onto his back, his eyes staring blankly into the void.

Neonidas then noticed the last man attempting to flee. He was running toward the door in a panic, his feet slipping, his steps unsteady as he tried to escape. But Neonidas knew he would never make it out.

He raised his right hand, closed his fingers, and light gathered once more. The last man was just about to reach the door when a bright beam pierced through his chest.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. His body arched backward slightly, his face frozen in eternal shock. Then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he collapsed onto his knees before silently falling to his side.

Neonidas listened to the silence for a brief moment. The scent of burning still lingered in the air, and the smoke left behind by light magic swirled through the room. Three bodies lay at his feet.

He took a deep breath. On the table where the man had left his pipe, a cigar was still smoldering. Neonidas walked over slowly, picked up the end of the cigar, lit it with the lingering heat in his palm, and brought it to his lips. He took a drag, exhaling the smoke slowly into the air.

“Damn it, this didn’t turn out the way I imagined. I thought this was my chance to recreate a scene from one of my favorite movies…”

While all of this was happening, Velmuth watched calmly from the corner. He had already realized that Neonidas wasn’t normal, but he hadn’t expected him to be some kind of light mage. This man was far more dangerous than he had assumed. In fact, even he wasn’t sure he could handle someone with this kind of power.

Yet, he remained composed. As a former knight, he knew exactly how to act in situations like this.

Neonidas took another deep drag from the cigar. The burning sensation in his throat reminded him of the mix of blood and fire on the battlefield. He felt no remorse for the men he had just killed. They had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And Neonidas was an expert at removing people who stood in the wrong place.

Velmuth continued watching in silence. After witnessing Neonidas’ deadly power, he knew he couldn’t judge him the same way as before. At first, he had thought Neonidas was too laid-back, too careless. But now, he knew the truth—this was a man who could take lives just for the fun of it. That fact both intrigued Velmuth and made him wary.

It was Velmuth who broke the silence first.

“Quite the spectacle.”

Neonidas turned his head slightly and looked at him. The man’s voice was calm, but there was a faint trace of mockery in it. Neonidas noticed, but didn’t care.

“Is that so?” he said, blowing smoke rings into the air. “I think it dragged on a little too long. Normally, I prefer to wrap things up faster.”

Velmuth walked toward the table. As he passed by the dead, he noticed one of them still had his eyes open. A frozen look of shock remained on his face. Velmuth reached out, closed the man’s eyes, and turned to Neonidas.

“You’re used to killing.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Neonidas shrugged slightly. “You could say that.”

Velmuth nodded, his gaze shifting to the pouch of gold on the table. “But I wasn’t expecting this much.”

Neonidas chuckled. “Everyone should have a surprise at their sleeve.”

Velmuth met his eyes. There was no fear in them, no remorse. But they weren’t empty either. There was something inside Neonidas—Velmuth just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

Finally, Velmuth nodded and took slow steps toward the table. His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t seem intent on drawing it.

“I know men like you,” he said. “You think fast, you move fast. But you’re too sure of yourself.”

Neonidas smirked. “There’s no such thing as being too confident, my friend. You either have confidence, or you don’t.”

Velmuth let out a short laugh. “Good line… but let’s get to the point. What do you want from me?”