Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

The clash of steel rang through the training grounds like a song of violence.

Enara exhaled sharply as she twisted her blade, deflecting the oncoming strike with practiced ease. The force of the impact sent a shudder through her arms, but she barely felt it anymore. Her muscles burned, her breath came short, but she refused to falter.

Her opponent a seasoned demon warrior twice her size grinned as he pressed forward. "You're getting better, Princess."

"I was always better," she shot back, sidestepping and countering with a sharp upward slash.

The demon barely managed to block in time. His grin widened. "Cocky today, aren't we?"

Enara didn't answer. She didn't have to. Her sword spoke for her.

She surged forward, her darkfire-imbued blade cutting through the air in a blur. Sparks erupted as steel met steel, the force behind her attack forcing her opponent to take a step back.

That was all she needed.

She spun low, sweeping his legs out from under him before driving the tip of her sword straight to his throat.

Silence.

Then—

The soldier let out a low chuckle from the ground. "Damn. You're not holding back today."

Enara lifted her blade, stepping away. "I don't have the luxury of holding back."

She extended a hand to help him up. He took it, groaning as he got to his feet.

"All due respect, Princess," he said, dusting himself off, "but you train harder than most warriors twice your age. You trying to kill us before we make it to war?"

She ignored the teasing. Instead, she turned away, casting a glance toward the watching crowd.

Her mother stood at the far edge of the training grounds, her expression unreadable.

Queen Verida was a formidable presence, even when she wasn't speaking. Her golden eyes were sharp, assessing every movement Enara had made during that fight. She wasn't one for unnecessary praise, nor did she tolerate weakness.

Enara had learned that the hard way.

She stepped forward, sheathing her sword. "Mother."

Verida tilted her head. "Better."

The single word should have satisfied her. It was rare to receive direct praise from the Queen. But Enara found herself wanting more.

She wanted needed to prove herself.

She wasn't a child anymore.

She wasn't the same girl who had once needed protection.

She was stronger now. Fiercer.

Because she had to be.

Because if she wasn't, she would never bring Liria back.

"Again," she said, turning back to the sparring grounds. "I want to go again."

Verida raised a brow. "You're already pushing your limits."

"I can push them further."

For a long moment, her mother studied her, as if searching for something. Then, finally, she nodded. "Very well."

Another opponent stepped forward. This one was faster, more experienced. Enara tightened her grip on her sword.

This one was faster, more experienced.

Enara tightened her grip on her sword, eyes narrowing as her opponent shifted into a stance that screamed precision. No wasted movement, no unnecessary flair. This was someone who knew exactly how to kill.

Fine.

So did she.

The moment their gazes locked, the fight began.

A blur of motion—steel clashed against steel, sending a sharp, ringing echo through the air. Enara gritted her teeth, adjusting her grip as the force of the impact sent a jolt up her arms.

Her opponent moved fast. Too fast.

He was already pivoting, blade sweeping low toward her legs. She barely managed to leap back, the edge of his sword grazing the air where her knee had been a second earlier.

No hesitation. No wasted time.

He pressed forward, relentless.

Enara raised her sword to block the next strike, but he twisted mid-motion, flipping the angle at the last second. The sudden change in direction caught her off guard she felt the sharp sting of metal grazing her shoulder before she could twist away.

Not deep, not enough to slow her down. But enough to remind her:

He's better than the others.

She exhaled sharply and lunged, not giving him a second to recover. If she played defensive, she'd lose. That much was obvious.

Their blades met again in a violent clash. Sparks erupted from the friction as Enara pushed forward, forcing her opponent to take a step back. She aimed a sharp downward cut—only for him to twist his wrist, redirecting the momentum, and counter with an upward slice.

Damn it!

She barely dodged in time, rolling to the side. The moment her boots touched the ground, she sprang back up, using the momentum to launch a quick series of precise thrusts.

Left. Right. Feint. Twist.

Each strike was met with equal resistance, their movements blurring into a deadly dance of steel.

He wasn't just defending. He was reading her.

Every time she changed tactics, he adapted before she could get an advantage. It was frustrating. Infuriating.

And exhilarating.

The next clash sent a shockwave up her arms, their swords locked together. For a brief moment, their eyes met gold against dark crimson.

Then he smirked.

Enara's blood boiled.

She shoved forward with all her strength, breaking the deadlock. He staggered back slightly, just enough for her to seize the opening she surged forward, feinting a downward strike. He raised his sword to block :

Wrong move.

At the last second, she twisted her wrist, redirecting the blade sideways, aiming for his exposed ribs.

Got you—!

But before her sword could land, he did something unexpected.

Instead of dodging, instead of blocking he stepped into the attack.

Enara's eyes widened as he caught her wrist mid-swing, using her own momentum against her. She barely had a second to react before he twisted sharply, forcing her into a vulnerable position.

With a swift motion, he swept her legs out from under her.

She hit the ground hard, her sword knocked from her grip.

The tip of his blade pressed lightly against her throat.

For the first time, she tasted defeat.

A slow smirk spread across his lips. "Not bad."

Enara scowled, her pride stinging more than the bruises she'd no doubt have tomorrow.

"Again," she growled.

He chuckled but stepped back, offering his hand.

She didn't take it.

Instead, she grabbed her sword and stood on her own.

The weight of it felt heavier than usual, like it carried something more than just steel. Maybe it did. Maybe it carried the weight of everything that had been lost, everything that had changed.

Liria was out there. And she wasn't the same.

And that terrified Enara more than she wanted to admit.

Her mind kept replaying the last time they had faced each other—the sheer force of Liria's attacks, the cold detachment in her eyes, the way she had moved, not just like an enemy, but like a predator.

That wasn't the girl she had grown up with. That wasn't her Liria.

But then… maybe Liria had never truly belonged to her in the first place.

Before she could take another step, a firm hand grabbed her wrist.

"Enough."

Enara turned, met her mother's unyielding golden gaze, and felt her stomach tighten. Queen Verida didn't look angry. She looked… final.

"You're not going after her," Verida said, voice low but absolute.

Enara clenched her jaw. "She's out there."

"And she chose to leave."

Those words landed sharper than a blade, cutting through whatever argument Enara had been about to throw back.

She had chosen.

Liria had chosen.

To fight against them. To attack them without hesitation. To stand beside the Dark Sovereign as if she had never belonged anywhere else.

Enara hated it.

But she couldn't deny it.

She ripped her arm away. "So that's it? We just do nothing?" Continue your journey on My Virtual Library Empire

Verida's golden eyes narrowed, her expression betraying none of the storm brewing beneath the surface. "We wait."

Enara scoffed, pacing like a caged beast. "Wait for what? For her to kill more people? For her to sink even deeper into—" She stopped herself, jaw clenching hard enough that she thought she might break her teeth.

Into what? Darkness? Corruption? Liria had already fallen. That much was clear.

And yet.

Some stubborn, unreasonable part of her refused to believe it was over.

"She's too far gone," Verida said, watching her carefully. "And you know that."

"No, I don't," Enara snapped. "What I know is that she's alive. That she's still out there. And you think I can just ? Pretend she never existed? Forget she ever—"

Her voice cracked.

She hated that.

Verida sighed, crossing her arms. "I never said forget."

Enara swallowed the lump in her throat, glaring at the floor. "Then what are you saying?"

"That sometimes," Verida said softly, "people don't want to be saved."

Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating.

Enara clenched her fists.

Liria had to want to be saved.

Because if she didn't…

Then Enara truly didn't know who she was anymore.