Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

Seraphis walked down the grand stone steps of the demon palace, her expression unreadable, her thoughts weaving together in intricate patterns. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the obsidian pavement, but she barely noticed.

Something was wrong.

It wasn't just suspicion anymore. It was certainty.

Liria Silverthorn had changed.

Seraphis had always prided herself on her ability to read people, to see beyond what was presented. It was a skill honed over centuries of dealing with the ambitious, the reckless, and the foolish. Yet Liria—who had once been predictable in her defiance, laughably stubborn but ultimately transparent—had become something else entirely.

The girl had always been a mystery. An anomaly. A human with flames darker than midnight. A fighter who adapted far too quickly. A child who wielded power that should have been far beyond her grasp.

But today, standing before her in that grand hall, Seraphis had not just seen power.

She had seen something unnatural.

Liria had always had a spark of arrogance, but today? It had been colder. Sharper. Calculated.

That was not the expression of a reckless child. That was the expression of someone who was holding back.

And Seraphis did not like unknown variables.

Her carriage awaited her at the foot of the palace steps, its sleek frame reinforced with silver runes that shimmered faintly in the dimming light. She stepped inside without hesitation, the doors sealing behind her with a subtle click.

The driver, an older demon with eyes clouded by centuries of service, waited for her command.

"To the Academy," she said smoothly, and with a flick of his wrist, the carriage began to move.

She settled into her seat, her fingers tapping absently against the polished wood of the armrest. Her mind, however, was far from still.

There were too many questions.

She had been watching Liria for some time, ever since the girl had arrived at the Academy. A human among demons, reckless but undeniably talented. The absurdity of it had been intriguing at first—an oddity, nothing more.

But that had changed.

The more she observed, the more the pieces refused to fit. The flames, the unnatural growth, the way power seemed to bend around the girl. And now, the shift in her presence, the way it felt.

It wasn't just strength. It was something deeper. Something wrong.

Seraphis had seen that kind of shift before.

Corruption.

Her lips pressed together as she stared out the window, watching the darkened landscape blur past.

If Liria was becoming something dangerous, then it was Seraphis's responsibility to find out why.

To contain it.

And if necessary to eliminate it.

The Academy loomed ahead, its towering spires cutting against the darkening sky. The runes etched into its foundations pulsed faintly, absorbing the energy of the ley lines that ran beneath the city.

As the carriage rolled to a stop, Seraphis stepped out smoothly, nodding once to the guards stationed at the entrance before disappearing into the labyrinthine halls.

She moved swiftly, her steps measured, controlled. Her destination was set before she had even arrived—the restricted archives, deep beneath the Academy.

Knowledge was power.

And right now, she needed answers.

Descending the spiral staircase that led below the main halls, Seraphis allowed herself a moment of stillness, inhaling the cool, magic-saturated air. The torches that lined the walls flickered as she passed, their enchanted flames shifting in color to recognize her presence.

The archives were silent. Few dared to enter without permission, and even fewer were granted access to the deeper vaults.

But Seraphis had spent centuries securing her position. There was no door here that would deny her.

The heavy iron gate at the end of the corridor unlocked with a simple wave of her hand, the protective sigils acknowledging her authority. Beyond it lay rows upon rows of ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts, each whispering forgotten truths.

She walked with purpose, fingers trailing over the spines of books that had not been opened in centuries, until she found what she was looking for.

A single volume, bound in cracked leather, its title nearly faded with time.

The Bloodline of the Sovereigns.

She pulled it from the shelf carefully, setting it down on the nearest table and opening it to the first marked page.

Her eyes scanned the text, each word solidifying her unease.

The Dark Sovereign had been sealed away for centuries, her name nothing more than a warning whispered among scholars and warriors alike.

And yet, there had always been rumors.

Whispers that she had not vanished completely.

That remnants of her power had been left behind.

That a successor could one day awaken.

Seraphis exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the edges of the page.

Could it really be her?

Was Liria Silverthorn…

No.

It was too soon to make that call. Too soon to assume the worst.

But she would not dismiss the possibility.

Her mind sharpened, settling into a familiar, tactical rhythm.

She needed to test Liria. Push her further. If there was something lurking beneath the surface, it would reveal itself soon enough.

Seraphis was not the type to sit and wait for threats to grow unchecked.

She would act.

And if Liria was becoming something unstoppable…

Then she would be the one to stop her.

Seraphis closed the book with a decisive snap, rising from her seat. The torches flickered violently as she stepped away, her presence shifting the very air around her.

This was no longer just a curiosity.

This was a hunt.

Seraphis moved through the dimly lit archive with measured steps, the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders. The knowledge in this place was dangerous sealed away not because it was forgotten, but because some truths were better left buried.

Yet she had no choice.

Liria Silverthorn was not an anomaly. She was a problem.

Seraphis had encountered many prodigies over the years. Young demons with talent beyond their years, warriors gifted with elemental affinities so strong they could burn a battlefield to ash before reaching adulthood. But power alone wasn't the issue.
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Power with no explanation? That was a problem.

She ran her fingers along the ancient pages, absorbing every word with the kind of focus that had made her one of the most feared women in the Academy's history.

The Sovereign's children.

The text spoke of them in cryptic fragments—whispers from old records, testimonies from long-dead scholars, each piece stitched together like a half-finished puzzle. Some believed the Dark Sovereign had never had offspring. Others were certain she had, but that none had survived. The true horror lay in the third possibility:

That one had survived, and that they would one day be the key to her return.

Seraphis clenched her jaw, turning the page. The ink had faded, but the words still held weight:

"The Sovereign's heir will not be born of love nor of fate but of design. The vessel shall be neither fully demon nor fully mortal, yet shall carry the fire of the abyss within them. They will walk among us as a shadow of what was sealed away, and should they awaken… the chains will shatter."

Seraphis's breath came slow and steady.

Liria.

It couldn't be coincidence.

From the moment that girl arrived, everything about her had defied logic. A human child raised by a former queen. A fighter with instincts that bordered on unnatural. Magic that obeyed her like a living creature. And then there were the flames—the black fire that only the royal family of demons could wield.

She had convinced herself for years that Liria was an outlier. A rare exception. But she had been wrong.

Terribly, dangerously wrong.

She exhaled, slow and deliberate, letting her pulse steady before she closed the book and tucked it under her arm. This knowledge was no longer safe gathering dust in the archives. She needed to take action.

As she left the vault, the heavy iron doors sealed shut behind her, locking away secrets that were now hers to bear. The halls of the Academy stretched ahead, silent in the dim glow of enchanted lanterns, and Seraphis moved through them with purpose.

She had always played the long game. She didn't act rashly, didn't move without strategy. If Liria truly was connected to the Dark Sovereign, she needed to be watched. Controlled. And if necessary—

Seraphis's hand twitched at her side.

Eliminated.

She didn't want to think about it. The girl was reckless, frustratingly stubborn, but… there was something about her that reminded Seraphis of herself. That same fire, that same defiance.

A shame.

The Academy's walls loomed around her, suffocating in their stillness. She had spent so long protecting this place, maintaining order. She had dedicated her life to ensuring that the mistakes of the past were not repeated.

And yet, as she climbed the staircase to her private office, an unfamiliar unease settled in her chest.

What if it was already too late?

What if the Dark Sovereign's influence had already taken root in Liria?

Seraphis ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. No. She refused to believe that. The girl still had control of herself. There was still a chance to pull her back, to contain whatever was growing inside her before it was too late.

But the longer she waited, the harder it would be.

She reached her desk, dropping the ancient tome onto its surface with a dull thud. The candlelight flickered as she pulled out a parchment and quill, her mind already crafting the first steps of her next move.

She needed to test Liria. To push her. To see how far that power had already seeped into her bones.

Seraphis was not afraid of the unknown.

But she had never feared a child before.

And that was the most dangerous part of all.