A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

'!?!'

"S-sorry?" The Mayor from the South Province seemed to have misheard what the Marquess just said, prompting him to look towards the head of the table, narrowing his eyes in anticipation that what he heard wasn't correct—something that only he could understand.

For someone to be told to hand over all their wealth, which they had collected with their sweat and blood, was not something to be taken lightly.

"I said, bring back all of your assets outside the territory," Avendial said, his hand tapping on the table as he observed the reactions he had anticipated forming on the faces of all the mayors.

They appeared as if they could not believe what they had just heard, prompting him to repeat himself.

"You have to be joking, Marquess." Finally realizing that his words were serious, one of the mayors voiced his concern, his eyes turning cold as he expressed his dissatisfaction with such a declaration from the Marquess.

They did not understand that this wasn't a simple joke where he could just tell them to do something like that.

"Yes, pardon me, Marquess, but this seems outrageous." Hearing one of them speak out, the others found firm ground to back up their dissatisfaction with his words, which clearly indicated he wanted them to bring their entire assets, which they had stored outside, back into the Croceaus territory.

Given the government policies clearly lacking control over the nobility, nobles protected their own funds and money from taxation by the royal family by storing it in free cities.

The government could not take taxes from them, nor could the royal family do the same, even if the money was outside the royal kingdom and the kingdom of Thaloris, registered under fake names.

Naturally, in the past, there had been several bills passed by the central government regarding this issue, but those in power could suppress the voices, and due to the involvement of nobles in it, the bill was thrown into a corner without being issued, creating a proper system for nobility to store their black money.

The royal family would naturally be aware of this, but they decided to turn a blind eye, given how the nobles involved were supporting several hires in the battle for the throne. So it was a win-win situation to show favor towards the nobility by turning a blind eye.

But now, out of the blue, this man in front of them was saying that they should hand over all the money they had earned back to him?

Was he insane?

"As expected..." Avendial sighed. Not that he wasn't expecting this, but given how they all had been trembling just a few moments ago, now when he kindly asked them to hand over their money, they had all turned into snakes, clearly hissing at him, using words that displayed their clear rejection.

Not that it mattered to him, as he closed his eyes before folding his hands, propping his back against the chair. He tilted his head towards the ceiling and declared, "Cut off all of their forefingers."

"What—huh?" One of the men near him, noticing his gesture and hearing that word, seemed confused for a moment, wanting to inquire about what he meant. But before he could complete his thought, he felt a sharp pain near his right hand—to be exact, at his forefinger—causing him to glance at his hand resting on the table.

Not only he, but everyone around the round table visibly saw shadows of several fingers—all forefingers—spring into the air before falling onto the table.

"WHA—WHAAAAA!"

"AAAARGGHHHH!!!"

"ARGH! MY HAND! ARGH!"

"KUGH!—THUD"

And before their brains could register what those fingers were, the pain bombarded their minds one after another in such a way that the most their bodies could afford in that moment was to collect all the air their lungs could muster and scream until the veins near their throats were visible.

With eyes wide open, a few of them stumbled back, falling out of their chairs while some clutched their hands, groaning in pain.

There is a saying that the intensity of pain one feels depends on the individual. Even a soldier, even when shot, would feel the pain the same as a child who gets hurt by a needle.

This was evident from the pain that, for the first time in their lives, assaulted each of the nerve cells present in their minds, leading to screams that seemed to mold their vocal cords in a flowing stream with tattered veins.

"Hm... You seem to not react?" Avendial said, his head in the same position towards the ceiling, one eye revealing its blue hue as he glanced towards Aria, who stood there without moving, her gaze clearly fixed in a certain direction, wide open without any screams or expression to indicate fear due to all the blood and small events that had occurred here.

"Is she really human?" Aria heard a soft sound from him, but her mind was entirely captivated by the scene in front of her.

Fingers lay severed, and blood pooled on the round table, each piece a stark reminder of the grim count.

This horrifying tableau framed the figure at the end of the table, who kept her gaze lowered.

Long eyelashes cast shadows over the figure's amethyst eyes, which stared intently at the surface below.

The strands of the same-colored hair cascaded over her milky white skin, tracing a delicate line to a drop of blood resting near her lips, which matched the hue of her lips perfectly.

"....." For a moment, Avendial, hearing those words from Aria, recalled the number of times he had heard those very words, every time someone asking him if the people whom he ordered to kill were really humans and every time he answered the same, "Can't you see? She is following orders from the brain?"

The reason he gave this answer every time was that it had two different meanings hidden behind it. Based on the principle that following the instructions of the brain, a human functions. Given that animals don't think like humans do, it proves that these people were humans. But from a second perspective, it proves that here "brain" was referring to himself. And on his command, they were acting inhuman. So naturally, they were human, if considered him as their brain.

Now it depended on Aria which category was smarter or slightly dumb.

'!'

"I will need to become accustomed to it, right?" Aria said, slightly taken aback by his words, given that he was referring to himself as the brain, whose command had influenced that woman to cut the fingers of all of them without mercy. Instinctively, Aria clenched her fist, inquiring as she felt this wouldn't be her first time seeing such a scene.

"Don't cry like children; you are all grown men," Avendial once again, straightening his head, looked towards the men who were yelling and screaming like children, given that the pain was clearly reaching their minds, evident from their screams echoing throughout the room. Even the servants were horrified, glancing through the window, ignoring this Avendial focused on clarifying to these people that it was enough.

It was evident that due to all their lives, they had never even incurred a scratch; it was their first time going through such pain, which in itself was akin to death.

"Agh... M-marquess, w-we are h-head of Branch—" One of the mayors, biting his lips to shut his mouth, controlled his pain while holding his hand from where the blood was now slowly becoming mild but still flowing. He looked towards the man with hope that he would understand they were not normal citizens but noblemen, though not pure as him, but still belonged to a branch family.

"Cut their middle finger," Avendial said before the completion of that mayor's word, stating he was not in the mood to have a proper conversation with these people. Given that there was no one inside this territory to hear their pleas, he was free to do anything. Instead of talking to them one by one and making them understand that this world was about to be destroyed and they should follow what he said, it was better to instill fear in their bodies and souls so that whenever they even thought of going against his orders, their whole body would tremble.

"ARGHH!"

"STOP!—SCKLT"

SWISH

There was nothing but another round of a nail cutter or so, where instead of nails, fingers were rolling once again. Even though some of them tried to cover their hands and folded them, it was as if the sword of that woman was ignoring their whole bodies and just aiming for the joints between the middle fingers, cutting with precision in a way designed to cause pain.

It was as if she intentionally ignored the vital nerves, cutting in a way where they were literally plucked out, causing blood to gush out even more.

And with this, another round of screaming and vibrations resonated inside the room.

----

"Haa....Haa....M-Marquess, please, have mercy," he gasped, finally catching his breath despite the pain. They had already pushed themselves to their limits, their minds stretched to the point of nausea, and several had lost consciousness. It was clear that this was too much for them.

They were not warriors, but noblemen who had never once in their lives attempted to strengthen their bodies through exercise.

"Fine then, we will settle the deal with this," Avendial said, sitting there while going through a certain document in his hand. He turned its pages before finally declaring his decision.

He nodded as he stood from his seat, having already dealt with these mayors who would never have heard the words of Alfred or Rivia if it weren't for him. He had made it clear that there was no escape for them.

Normally, if he had simply instructed Alfred to subdue these mayors, they would most likely have died, thinking their family head could protect them.

This was why he had chosen to corner them into despair, making them fully understand that this was the only end awaiting them.

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