The Great Villain! Faces his evil past...?

(Author's Note: I'm going to add an auxiliary chapter explaining how the Dominion Codex works and the overall magic system to make this chapter hit better [And hopefully be understood better].)

Lucian stepped into the slums, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the crumbling alleys. The stench hit him first. He wrinkled his nose.

"Gods, it smells worse than an ogre's cooking."

A beggar nearby flinched, clearly assuming the well-dressed noble was about to kick him aside like the others did. Lucian only sighed.

"And here I thought ruling with an iron fist was bad. Turns out, neglect is worse." He nudged a rat aside with his boot. "This place could use a little—oh, what's the word? Ah, yes. Order."

Lucian walked through the streets, his usual smirk still lingering—until the first sight of a child curled up beside a pile of rotting trash. His eyes flicked downward, catching the hollow look in the boy's face.

Something cold and unfamiliar settled in his chest. He exhaled sharply. Not my problem.

And yet…

The Dominion Codex pulsed into existence at his side, its pages trembling as if tasting the air. But this time, it did not flip open immediately. It waited—watching.

Lucian frowned. What's your problem?

No answer, of course. Only a slow, creeping sensation slithering through his mind. A weight pressing down on him—an unspoken reminder of who he used to be.

Then, the Codex stirred. Its pages turned on their own, revealing a Dominion he had long since buried.

Cruelty.

For a moment, the mischievous glint in his eyes dulled.

The first passage, once violently scratched out, now glowed ominously.

"Lord of Cruelty (Rare)."

As the words etched themselves into reality, they slithered into Lucian's mind, subtle yet insidious. Had he been at his full strength—the Dark Lord he once was—he might have sensed the Codex's quiet manipulations.

But now?

Now, he was weaker.

And the Codex knew it.

The Dominion of Cruelty pulsed, a silent acknowledgment. It had been sealed ever since he fell. Ever since they abandoned him. Now, in his diminished state, it returned—unchecked, unrestrained, embedding itself into his thoughts.

No Dominion should return this easily. The first time, it had taken years—long, deliberate years—to carve its power into his soul. But now? It had resurfaced in an instant, tearing through the careful distance he had placed between himself and the past.

The cruelest men spent lifetimes earning this Dominion. A slow descent. A thousand small, deliberate acts of malice. But for him?

It came rushing back all at once. Unforgiving. Unfiltered.

Had this been the price of breaking the cycle? He had faked his death, let his empire rot, walked away without looking back. But the Codex had never left him. It had merely waited—biding its time.

And now, the years of cruelty had returned as if he'd never left at all.

Lucian's gaze flicked over the page, then back to the streets. His voice, usually dripping with arrogance, was quiet. Almost contemplative.

"So even after the so-called hero killed me… people still live like this?"

His fingers hovered over the Codex's page, tracing the new passage with a slow, deliberate touch. And just like that, the shift was complete.

His smirk, his easy arrogance—the mask he wore so effortlessly—was gone.

And in its place?

Something far older. Far colder.

Something that had never truly left.

Had it always been like this? Or had it gotten worse? He had never cared much for human suffering—it was simply the way of the world. Weak ruled by the strong. Yet, somehow, it felt wrong that this filth and despair had thrived under the rule of those who had so proudly slain the Dark Lord.

He had brought war, yes. Carnage. But this? This was decay. Slow, pathetic, acceptable suffering.

And somehow, that felt more cruel than anything he had ever done.

The Dominion of Cruelty pulsed in response, an acknowledgment of his thoughts.

As he strode through the muddy streets, his noble attire drew immediate attention. Hollow eyes peeked out from alleyways, some filled with awe, others with thinly veiled despair.

At first, he had intended to exploit these people, to twist their desperation into unwavering devotion.

He still planned to.

But he would treat them better than this wretched kingdom ever had.

His steps slowed, his expression hardening—serious, calculating. It was the same look he had worn when he was still a young Dark Lord, before theatrics and chaos had become his weapons of choice.

Then, amid his silent contemplation, a scene unfolded before him. A sight so vile that even a Dark Lord found it repulsive.

"You little bastard!"

A burly man hurled a malnourished child against a crumbling stone wall. The boy gasped, his frail body crumpling to the ground, coughing in agony.

"Please… I…" The child wheezed, but the man cut him off with a brutal kick to the stomach.

A pained cry tore through the air.

Lucian exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching. "Disgusting."

He had every right to be evil—he was a Dark Lord, after all. But for a mere mortal, protected by the same heroes who pranced around preaching justice, to inflict such cruelty on his own kind? The irony was suffocating. And unfortunately for this man… Lucian was human, too.

The brute reached for a wooden plank discarded at the side of the road.

"This'll teach you to steal from me again!" he snarled, raising it high.

The boy curled in on himself, trembling, arms raised in a feeble attempt to shield his head. But the strike never came.

Instead, there was a splintering crack.

Slowly, the boy opened his eyes.

Lucian stood before him, his hand wrapped around the plank mid-swing. His grip tightened, wood groaning in protest before it shattered effortlessly in his grasp.

"Hey," Lucian murmured, his voice light—too light. "Pick on someone your own size."

The man stumbled back, eyes bulging. "You—! Don't get in my way! This isn't your business, you damn noble!"

Lucian chuckled. A slow, disdainful laugh that sent a chill through the filth-strewn street. He took a single step forward, then another.

"I've been goofing off so much," Lucian mused, rolling his shoulders, "that I almost forgot what it means to be truly evil."

The words left his lips before he even thought about them. Something inside him itched, urging him forward. The Codex pulsed in his peripheral vision, its pages vibrating with unseen force. Urging. Whispering.

The man sneered. "The hell is wrong with you? Stay out of—"

Lucian's fingers moved before his mind did. One hand shot forward, clamping over the man's face. A panicked scream barely had time to form before Lucian hoisted him into the air.

He could feel it now—the weight of his own strength. The way the man struggled, kicked, whimpered. The way the Codex burned in his periphery, feeding off this moment.

Crush him.

Lucian hesitated. His grip loosened—just slightly. The Codex's hum grew louder, insistent.

Crush him.

His fingers clenched. Then—

There was a wet crack, like an eggshell crushed underfoot. Warm blood splattered across Lucian's wrist, thick and steaming in the cold air. The man's body spasmed once—then collapsed, limp and broken.

The Codex glowed brighter.

"I hope my former demon generals have fun with your soul."

His smirk was hollow. Empty.

Lucian exhaled, flicking stray crimson droplets from his glove. His gaze shifted to the child, cold and unreadable.

And without another word, the Dominion Codex beside him stirred, its pages turning on their own. Another previously sealed Dominion unlocked—the Dominion of Blood.

A passage inscribed itself across the ancient parchment:

"Lucian, the former Dark Lord, finally returns to his nature."

Lucian's eyes narrowed. A sharp, searing pain lanced through his skull as the Dominion of Cruelty's influence took root, whispering its insidious will into his mind. His thoughts twisted, his instincts sharpened—urging him to embrace what he once was.

The weight of old habits pressed against his mind like chains snapping back into place. His fingers twitched involuntarily. He knew this feeling. The rush of power, the intoxicating promise of control. But it wasn't his control. Not anymore.

"Not… again!" He gritted his teeth, agony ripping through his consciousness. A phantom pressure wrapped around his limbs, like invisible hands pulling him deeper. His fingers trembled as he forced them into motion, clawing through resistance that wasn't entirely his own.

A sharp pulse tore through his skull, his vision blurring at the edges. The Codex wasn't just influencing him—it was fighting him.

With sheer will, he snapped his fingers—

And with that single act—

The Codex vanished into the void.

Lucian staggered, his breath ragged. A cold sweat clung to his skin as the haze lifted from his mind. His knees nearly buckled. He pressed a hand to his temple, grounding himself.

The absence of the Codex left a void—a phantom itch, an ache in his thoughts where its voice had been. It wasn't just a tool anymore. It wasn't just an old relic.

It was a beast. And it had tasted blood again.

"Never thought I'd feel that again." He muttered, exhaling slowly with a breathless laugh—half amusement, half something else. Something sharp. Restless.

He flexed his fingers, still faintly shaking. Had it taken just a second longer, had he hesitated just a little more… No. He shoved the thought away.

"My Codex…" he murmured. His smirk was gone. His usual arrogance—hollow. Instead, his voice was quiet. Grim.

"It seems it has become my greatest enemy as of now."

A tiny, strangled noise made him look down.

The child stood frozen, his frail body trembling. His wide, terrified eyes darted between Lucian's bloodied hand and the now-empty air where the demonic Codex had loomed. He had just watched a man crush a skull with his bare hands, then scream in agony, fighting off something unseen.

The nobles never came here. Not unless they were looking for cheap labor, for bodies to discard.

No one fought for the slum-born. No one except him.

A monster. Yes. The boy could see it, in the flicker of unnatural power that danced around Lucian's fingertips. In the way the man's body had crumpled like wet parchment.

But monsters were strong.

And in this place, strength was survival.

Lucian exhaled slowly, watching the boy.

The Codex may have tried to control him, but it had also reminded him of something important. Something he had almost forgotten.

The power to destroy? That had never left him. But the power to choose?

That was something he would have to take back himself.

The child took a slow step forward.

Toward the blood-streaked noble.