I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

Chapter 3 [Prologue]: Ivan Zakharovic Kozlow [2]

"These six are the royals, then?"

The voice came from a young man who couldn't have been older than twenty. He moved silently like a predator eyeing his prey, his presence suffused with the same dangerous aura that surrounded Ivan, Ludmila, and Dimitri.

With dark brown hair and pitch black eyes, the young man circled the kneeling royals, each step sending a shiver down their spines. His eyes, filled with a cold, bloodthirsty menace, lingered on each trembling figure. Only the King managed to meet his stare without wavering, though even he seemed burdened by the weight of the young man's presence.

"Mikhail," Ivan called out with a stare.

Mikhail glanced back with a smirk, a soundless chuckle escaping his lips. He stepped away, leaning against the window with a casual air, crossing his arms as though disinterested in the scene unfolding before him.

—Thud!

A sudden crash resounded from the far side of the throne room, drawing everyone's attention.

"Y–Your Majesty?!"

A figure burst through the doorway, staggering into the hall. It was an old man, his once-brilliant white armor now tarnished with blood and battle scars. His face, weathered and lined, was twisted in pain and fury. In his grasp, he held a massive sword, gleaming despite the crimson streaks marring its surface.

But most striking of all was his missing arm—severed at the shoulder, fresh blood still oozing from the grievous wound.

"S–Sir Bedivere!" The Emperor's voice wavered, eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of his most loyal knight, bloodied and broken.

"Your Majesty!" Bedivere's voice was a roar, thick with anguish and rage. His eyes blazed as he took in the pitiful sight of his Emperor, the Queen, and the royal children, all on their knees before these strangers. His gaze fixed on Ivan whose presence eclipsed everyone else.

"You will pay for this, Heretic!" Bedivere snarled, his voice trembling with fury. With a powerful swing, he brought his massive sword down in a deadly arc, aiming to cleave Ivan's head from his shoulders. The blade hummed with mana, a weapon forged to crush any foe.

-BOOOOM!

The impact was thunderous, a shockwave tearing through the throne hall, shaking its very foundations. It was an attack meant to obliterate, a blow that would have felled even the mightiest of enemies.

But when the dust settled...

"Is that really the strongest knight of Britannia?" Mikhail scoffed.

"No... I heard about...Lancelot, Merlin, Gawain, and Percival?" Dimitri replied in a low voice, scratching his head as if struggling to remember the names.

"Gawain? I'm pretty sure I beat someone calling himself Gawain on my way here," Mikhail said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"...!"

"And I dealt with someone who called himself Lancelot," Ludmila added indifferently.

Arthur's face went ashen, mirroring the shock that gripped the rest of his family.

"I–Impossible... even Lancelot and Gawain..." He stammered, his voice trembling with disbelief. Lancelot, the strongest Knight of the Round Table, and Gawain, renowned for his exceptional strength, were both leagues above Bedivere. For them to have fallen so easily...

"What? Really?" Mikhail's interest waned instantly, the gravity of the knights' defeat barely registering to him.

Ivan paid no attention to the conversation or the names that held so much weight for others. His focus was solely on the task ahead as he strode forward. But before he could advance further, Bedivere, battered and barely conscious, crawled forward, dragging his wounded body to block Ivan's path.

For the first time, Ivan's eyes flicked down to meet the knight's. Bedivere's face was twisted with pain, blood streaking his features, but his determination remained unbroken. Despite his grievous injuries, he positioned himself as a human shield, desperate to protect his king and the royal family from these invaders.

But what Bedivere saw in Ivan's eyes was nothing—no anger, no pity, not even the satisfaction of victory. Ivan looked at him as one might regard a piece of debris in their path—an insignificant obstacle.

-BAM!

"What a nuisance."

Kamila moved with blinding speed, delivering a light yet forceful kick to Bedivere's broad back. The impact sent the knight hurtling through the air, his body crashing through the far wall of the palace with the velocity of a bullet propelled out of the palace.

Kamila allowed herself a small smile, savoring the proximity to Ivan's presence.

With Bedivere now disposed of, Ivan resumed his advance, his eyes fixed on the Emperor.