I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 20: A Road Paved with Bad Decisions

Darin's problems had only just begun.

The village was long behind them, its misguided cheering fading into the distance, but the damage had already been done. The words still echoed in his head.

"Long live the Overlord!"

He slumped forward in the saddle. "I will never recover from this."

"Clearly," Vincent said, far too amused.

Darin shot him a glare but didn't have the energy to argue. His focus was already split between the three major problems currently riding with him.

Problem one: Steve, who was no longer a small baby dragon. His recent growth spurt had pushed him from cat-sized to dog-sized, making it significantly harder for Darin to ignore the fact that he was now saddled with a very noticeable and very illegal companion.

Steve, unaware of his own very illegal status, was currently trotting alongside Darin's horse, his wings tucked against his back and his tail flicking excitedly as he took in the new sights. His frills twitched every few moments, picking up new sounds, and occasionally, he would stop to investigate something with his snout before bounding forward to catch up.

Problem two: The sorceress.

She had insisted on coming along, not that Darin had been able to stop her. Now she rode just ahead of him, her dark cloak flowing behind her, exuding the same effortless control that had made training with her absolute hell.

She hadn't spoken much since they left, but Darin knew her well enough by now to tell that she was thinking.

Which meant she was planning something.

Which meant he should probably start worrying.

And finally, problem three: Vincent.

Who was, unfortunately, still Vincent.

The noble was riding beside Darin, far too comfortable in the saddle, wearing that same smug expression he always did when he thought Darin was being ridiculous.

"You keep frowning," Vincent noted. "Regretting your choices already?"

"My choices?" Darin scoffed. "I had exactly zero choices in any of this."

Vincent shrugged. "You could have tried running."

Darin groaned. "I did try running. It failed. Miserably."

"You should work on that."

"I hate you."

Vincent chuckled.

Ahead of them, the sorceress let out a dramatic sigh. "Are you two always like this?"

"Yes," they both said at the same time.

She groaned. "Gods help me."

Steve barked—an actual bark, which was a bit concerning considering he was not a dog.

Darin glanced down at him. "You're way too happy about all this."

Steve wagged his tail, pleased with himself.

Grumble, meanwhile, had sprawled lazily across the saddle in front of Darin, his shadowy form half-melting into the leather. His glowing eyes flicked open for a moment, regarded Darin with vague disinterest, then closed again.

Darin sighed. "At least one of us is relaxed."

The sorceress slowed her horse until she was riding next to them. She gave Steve a once-over before turning to Darin.

The sorceress crossed her arms. "You do realize this is going to be a problem, right?"

Darin frowned. "What is?"

She gestured at Steve. "That."

Darin looked at his dragon, then back at her. "Steve?"

"Yes, Steve."

"What about Steve?"

The sorceress let out an exasperated sigh. "He's huge now, Darin. And dragons aren't exactly common."

Darin blinked. "Oh."

Vincent gave him an incredulous look. "Oh?"

Darin groaned. "Look, I didn't think the whole 'fetch me a dragon egg' challenge was actually going to work!"

The sorceress gave him a very flat stare.

Vincent choked on a laugh. "Wait. That's how you got him?"

Darin threw up his hands. "I thought they'd fail! Like they were supposed to!"

The sorceress pinched the bridge of her nose. "You literally ordered them to find a dragon egg, and you're shocked that they actually did it?"

Darin scowled. "Yes, because it was supposed to be impossible!"

Steve, unaware of the absolute mess that his existence had caused, let out a happy chirp and puffed a little smoke into the air.

Vincent was barely holding in his laughter. "You really are the worst Overlord ever."

Darin groaned.

The sorceress shook her head. "Then maybe don't make stupid challenges that result in you collecting highly illegal magical creatures next time."

Darin muttered, "Fine. Lesson learned."

Steve, as if to remind everyone that he was, in fact, very real, wagged his tail and let out a deep, contented huff of smoke.

Grumble stretched, let out a lazy sigh, and flicked his tail over Darin's face.

And ahead of them, the capital loomed ever closer.

By the time the sun started to set, they had covered a lot of ground. The road stretched long and empty before them, winding through thick forests and open plains, the capital still days away. The cool evening air should have been refreshing, but Darin couldn't shake the creeping sense of unease that had been nagging at him for the past hour.

At first, he thought he was just being paranoid.

Then Steve growled.

It was low and rumbling—not one of his usual playful huffs, but something deeper, something that sent a shiver crawling up Darin's spine.

Darin tensed. "What?"

Steve's frills twitched, his snout lifting as he sniffed at the wind. His long tail swished once, then twice.

Grumble, sprawled lazily across the saddle in front of Darin, suddenly went very still. His glowing eyes flicked open, and his ears flattened slightly, his body shifting from relaxed to alert.

The sorceress noticed immediately.

She didn't say anything—she didn't need to. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes narrowing as she let her magic stretch outward, feeling for anything wrong.

Vincent, who had been lost in thought for most of the ride, finally caught on. He glanced between them, then straightened in his saddle.

"Something wrong?"

The sorceress didn't answer right away. She was listening—not with her ears, but with that strange, otherworldly sense that all powerful mages seemed to have.

Darin, on the other hand, wasn't magical. He was just a guy with really bad luck.

And his luck told him that something was definitely off.

Steve let out another low growl.

Grumble's tail flicked once. Twice.

Then, in the distance, a twig snapped.

It was faint—barely audible over the rustling trees—but it was there.

And it wasn't an animal.

Darin's stomach dropped.

The sorceress's voice was barely above a whisper. "We're being followed."

Vincent's expression darkened instantly. His hand drifted toward his sword, his entire body shifting into something more rigid, prepared.

"How long?" he asked.

The sorceress exhaled through her nose. "Since before sunset."

Darin's eye twitched. "You're telling me we've had stalkers for hours and you're just now bringing it up?"

"They were keeping their distance," she muttered. "I wasn't sure if they were waiting for something or just observing."

"Fantastic," Darin deadpanned. "Love that. Love that for us."

Vincent's gaze flicked to the trees. "How many?"

The sorceress was silent for a moment, then: "Four. Maybe five. But there could be more further back."

Darin fought the urge to turn around and look. He had seen enough bad plays in the village square to know that turning to check was the surest way to make it obvious they were aware of their pursuers.

Instead, he forced himself to think.

"Okay," he said, keeping his voice low. "Bandits?"

The sorceress frowned. "No. Too disciplined."

Darin's stomach churned. "Oh, great. That's so much worse."

Vincent's expression hardened. "Mercenaries?"

"Possibly," the sorceress admitted. "Or bounty hunters."

Darin let out a weak chuckle. "Oh, awesome, yeah, let's just throw that onto my list of things to worry about."

Vincent ignored him. "We keep moving. Act like we don't know. If they make a move—"

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

The sound was distant, but deliberate.

A signal.

And then—

Figures emerged from the trees.

First one. Then another. Then another.

By the time the seventh figure stepped onto the road, Darin was officially out of patience.

Vincent's horse reared slightly, sensing the tension in the air. The sorceress pulled hers to a stop, one hand already glowing with latent magic.

Steve bristled, his wings half-spreading in warning.

Grumble flicked his tail and yawned lazily—but Darin knew better. The shadowy cat only acted uninterested when he was very interested.

Darin's heart pounded as he took in the newcomers.

They were armed.

Not with rusted, patchwork weapons like most bandits, but with well-maintained steel. Their armor was practical, not flashy—mostly leathers, reinforced with bits of metal, perfect for mobility. These weren't common thugs.

These were professionals.

Vincent swore under his breath.

Darin swallowed hard. "Okay. Maybe they just want to say hi."

The tallest of the men stepped forward, resting his sword lazily on his shoulder.

His armor was more decorated than the others—a leader, then.

"Well," the man said, his voice smooth, too confident.

"Look what we have here."

Darin forced a very unimpressed expression. "Yeah, hi. Can we help you?"

The man's lips curled into something almost a smile. "Depends."

Vincent's voice was low, sharp. "On what?"

The leader tilted his head. "On whether or not you make this easy."

Darin hated that sentence.

Steve let out a low growl, his claws digging into the dirt. His frills twitched. Smoke curled from his nostrils.

The leader's eyes flicked to him. "That," he said, "is a dragon."

Darin, without thinking: "No, it isn't."

A beat of silence.

Then Vincent slowly turned his head toward him, giving him a look that could only be described as deep, profound disappointment.

The sorceress sighed. "Darin—"

"Nope, not a dragon," Darin said, doubling down. "Weird-looking dog."

The leader arched a brow. "A dog."

"Yeah," Darin said. "Rare breed."

Steve, who was very much a dragon, puffed out another cloud of very illegal smoke.

The leader's smirk widened. "Right. A dog."

Darin gritted his teeth. "Glad we cleared that up. So, uh, if you'll just move aside, we'll be on our way—"

The leader lifted a hand.

The men behind him drew their weapons.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Darin immediately regretted all of his life choices.

Vincent sighed, rolling his shoulders like he was already exhausted by whatever was about to happen. "I assume this isn't a friendly conversation."

The leader smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Sorry," he said. "Orders."

Darin narrowed his eyes. "Whose orders?"

The leader didn't answer.

Instead, he flicked his fingers.

And his men charged.

Vincent drew his sword.

The sorceress raised a hand.

Steve roared.

Grumble stretched, sighed, and vanished into the shadows.

And Darin, cursing every god he could think of, barely had time to react before the fight began.