I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 58: Morning Chaos and Brotherly Destruction

Darin was blissfully asleep, wrapped in the rare embrace of peace. His dream was even somewhat pleasant, something about an endless feast.

Then—

BOOM!

A thunderous crash shook the ground, jolting Darin awake.

For a second, he just lay there, groggy and disoriented. Maybe it was part of his dream? Maybe he hadn’t woken up at all?

Then came another BOOM—followed by what sounded suspiciously like cheering.

Darin’s eye twitched.

"…Those damn cultists," he muttered.

With an angry growl, he kicked off his blanket and strode outside, ready to unleash the wrath of a sleep-deprived man.

Only to see—

A massive boulder flying straight at his face at terrifying speed.

Darin’s soul nearly left his body.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

He flailed backward, bracing for impact, mentally preparing for the very stupid way he was about to die.

And then—

CRACK!

The rock shattered an inch from his face, breaking apart into harmless dust.

Darin blinked. He was… not dead?

He turned his head slightly, spotting the Sorceress casually standing by the tent’s entrance, arms crossed. She barely spared him a glance. "You’re welcome."

Darin swallowed thickly. "Was I… Was I being assassinated again?"

"No," the Sorceress said dryly, jerking her chin toward the clearing. "It’s just those two idiots."

Darin followed her gaze.

And that’s when he saw the absolute disaster happening next to his tent.

In the large open clearing, Vincent and Alvin were dueling.

And by dueling, that meant actively destroying the entire area with reckless abandon.

Vincent, glowing with both aura and magic, grinned wildly as he blinked forward in a flash of speed, slamming his sword down with force. Alvin, just as fast, dodged and spun his weapon, a sword that seamlessly shifted into a spear—deflecting the attack before seamlessly morphing it into a scythe in a fluid motion.

A shockwave erupted from the clash, tearing up dirt and leaving scorch marks on the ground.

"You’re getting slow, Alvin!" Vincent taunted, jumping back and releasing a burst of fire magic mid-air.

Alvin twisted, deflecting the flames with a flick of his weapon before lunging forward, his blade shifting back into a sword as he struck with a series of rapid slashes. "And you still fight like an idiot!"

The ground cracked beneath them as their attacks sent shockwaves through the air.

Darin’s brain refused to process this.

"Why is this happening next to my tent?!"

"Brotherly bonding, apparently," the Sorceress said, watching as Vincent sent out an arc of lightning, only for Alvin to slam the ground and send a pillar of ice upward in retaliation.

"They could’ve bonded literally anywhere else!"

"Yes, but they said that wouldn’t be as entertaining."

Darin was about to yell at them to stop when he noticed something even worse.

Thousands of people, cultists, mercenaries, ex-soldiers—had gathered around in a massive crowd.

And they were cheering.

"KILL HIM, LORD VINCENT!"

"SLICE HIS HEAD OFF, YOUNG MASTER ALVIN!"

"THIS IS AMAZING!"

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"LOOK AT THEM GO!"

Someone was even selling food, a retired soldier stood behind a makeshift stall, flipping skewers of meat like this was a festival.

Darin’s eye twitched so hard he thought he might go blind.

The Overlord in his head cackled in delight.

"Ah! The thrill of battle! The destruction! The sheer power on display! This is the way of warriors—"

"Shut. Up."

"And look! They even have snacks!"

Darin pinched the bridge of his nose.

As the duel intensified, more people joined the cheering crowd. It had become a full-blown spectacle, with bets being placed, drinks being shared, and someone had even pulled out a drum.

And then, from one of the tents, Steve emerged.

Steve blinked sleepily, tilting his head at the commotion. On his back, Grumble lay sprawled out like a sack of potatoes, lazily clinging to Steve’s back as if refusing to get up fully.

Steve yawned, his tiny wings stretching. Then he slowly waddled over to Darin and stopped beside him, staring at the ongoing chaos with half-lidded, judgmental eyes.

Grumble’s head slowly turned to Darin, his fur bristling slightly before he flopped back down on Steve’s back like this was all too much to process.

Darin crossed his arms. "Yeah, I know. I hate this too."

Steve gave a slow, exhausted blink.

Then he laid down right then and there.

Grumble, still clinging onto his back, just rolled off like a dead fish, landing in a soft heap beside him.

Darin sighed, turning his attention back to the duel.

Vincent and Alvin were moving faster and faster, their blades clashing in rapid, fluid movements. Sparks flew as Vincent’s lightning-infused sword clashed against Alvin’s transforming blade.

Vincent was grinning wildly. "You can’t defeat me, lil’ bro!"

Alvin’s expression twisted into frustration. "Shut up and just fight, Vincent!"

The younger Ravenshire lunged, his sword shifting into a scythe mid-motion, swinging with terrifying force.

Vincent barely dodged, flipping back and landing smoothly. "Oooooh, scary! You’re finally getting serious, huh?"

Alvin snarled, adjusting his grip.

Then—he disappeared.

Darin’s eyes widened as Alvin reappeared in mid-air, his scythe arcing down toward Vincent’s head.

Vincent, instead of dodging—

—laughed.

And with perfect timing, he raised his free hand, snapping his fingers.

A gust of wind exploded around him, catching Alvin mid-swing and throwing off his balance.

"CHEAP TRICKS!" Alvin shouted as he flipped mid-air, barely managing to land on his feet.

"Strategy!" Vincent corrected cheerfully. "You should try it sometime!"

Alvin cursed and charged again.

Darin, still watching, found himself unable to look away.

The way they moved, their speed, their reflexes, it was… impressive.

It was like watching art in motion.

And it reminded him of something.

A memory flickered in his mind—his duel with Duke Varian. The way the duke had overpowered him. How he had been forced to think, adapt, and push himself.

Darin clenched his fists.

"When I finally arrive in the north… I’ll train seriously."

That thought settled in his chest like a firm decision.

He wasn’t just going to keep winging it anymore.

Watching Vincent and Alvin move, seeing how they fought—it made him realize how far behind he was.

If he wanted to survive the mess he was heading into, if he wanted to lead properly, he needed to become stronger.

The duel reached its peak.

Vincent blurred forward, his blade glowing with crackling energy as he vanished in a streak of movement.

Alvin barely had a second to react—his instincts kicked in, and he twisted his sword, shifting it into a spear just in time to meet Vincent’s assault. Their weapons clashed, sending out a violent shockwave that rattled the ground beneath them.

The force of their attacks sent dust spiraling into the air, blinding the cheering crowd for a moment.

But then, they were moving again.

Vincent twisted midair, using the impact of their previous clash to propel himself up and over Alvin. He landed behind his brother, aiming a quick slash at his exposed side.

But Alvin was faster than expected.

His spear vanished in a flicker of light, reforming into a scythe just as he spun around, using the length of the weapon to parry Vincent’s strike with ease.

"Nice try!" Alvin growled, pushing forward.

Vincent grinned, side-stepping effortlessly as lightning crackled around his form. "You’re getting better, little brother!"

Alvin didn’t waste his breath on a reply—he lunged, pressing the attack.

Their movements were blindingly fast, too quick for the untrained eye to follow. Sparks erupted with every parry, every dodge, every strike. The ground beneath them cracked as their aura and magic collided in waves of energy.

The spectators were losing their minds.

"GET HIM, ALVIN!"

"END HIM, VINCENT!"

"MAKE HIM REGRET BEING YOUR BROTHER!"*

Some of the cultists, completely misunderstanding the situation, began chanting in unison.

"OVERLORD’S CHAMPIONS! OVERLORD’S CHAMPIONS!"

Darin, still watching from a safe distance, buried his face in his hands.

Beside him, Steve lay motionless, giving the fight the slowest, most unimpressed stare possible.

Grumble had somehow rolled onto his back, paws twitching slightly.

Then—

A violent gust of wind exploded between Vincent and Alvin.

Both brothers were blasted apart, their feet skidding back across the battlefield as an unseen force interrupted their fight.

The energy dispersed.

The dust settled.

And then, everyone turned.

The Sorceress stood there, her hand raised, expression calm but firm. The air around her crackled slightly, as if she had barely used a fraction of her power to stop them.

"That’s enough," she said, her voice carrying over the entire clearing. "It’s time to move."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"BOOOOOOO!"

A chorus of disappointed voices erupted from the crowd.

"LET THEM FIGHT!"

"WE WANT BLOOD!"

"AT LEAST LET THEM FINISH IT!"

A particularly enthusiastic cultist shouted, "OUR OVERLORD WILL DECIDE WHO LIVES AND WHO DIES!"

Darin immediately shot him a look. "No. No more fighting. We’re already behind schedule."

The cultist lowered his head in shame. "Apologies, my lord. Your divine judgment is absolute."

Darin rubbed his temples harder. "That’s not what I—Never mind."

Meanwhile, Vincent, breathing hard, wiped some sweat from his brow and grinned. "Tch. Guess that means I win, huh?"

Alvin scoffed, rolling his shoulder. "Like hell. You barely held up."

"Ooooh, salty. You wanna cry about it?"

"I will stab you in your sleep."

"Oh noooo, I’m soooo scared!" Vincent laughed, tossing an arm around his brother’s shoulder.

Alvin immediately shoved him off with force, nearly making Vincent fall on his face.

Vincent caught himself and just laughed harder. "Admit it. You missed me."

"I did not."

"You totally did."

Darin, already done with all of this, sighed and turned to the Sorceress. "Let’s go before they start another duel."

She gave a small nod. "Agreed."

And with that, the camp was forced back into order, and the journey continued.