Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

"Because it's effective," Daena replied, lunging forward, a streak of flame igniting the air around her hand. Her fiery assault tore through the distance between her and the closest cursed guardian, the heat distorting the figures around them like ripples on water.

The air around the obsidian field seemed to condense, heavy and oppressive. It pulsed with the unnatural hum of latent magic, vibrating faintly against Daena's skin. Each step sent gritty shards of obsidian crunching beneath her boots, their sharp edges cutting faintly through her soles as she maneuvered with a warrior's grace.

Her fire struck true, engulfing the closest figure in a searing column of flame. Yet, as the light faded, the figure reemerged, entirely untouched. Its hollow eyes locked onto Daena with unsettling calm, as though it hadn't just walked through an inferno.

"Oh, wonderful," Daena muttered. "Fireproof."

"Didn't think you'd need a plan?" Nyssara asked coolly, dodging as two guardians rushed her from opposite sides. Her long hair flowed behind her like a silver banner, her every step deliberate and calculated. With a single elegant motion, she summoned a crescent of magic from her hands a shimmering wave of silvery-blue energy that sliced through one guardian, causing it to shatter into fragments of flickering light.

"It wasn't about having a plan," Daena shot back, her voice tight as she ducked under a swipe from another guardian. "It was about seeing if I needed one."

Nyssara snorted, her lilac eyes glinting with amusement even as she sent another wave of magic toward the oncoming swarm. "Typical."

The guardians moved like shadows come to life—silent and sinuous, their forms flickering as though they weren't entirely solid. Each step they took seemed to warp the space around them, the heat of the desert giving way to a chilling breeze.

Daena launched herself into the fray, her flames dancing along her fists as she punched and kicked with brutal efficiency. One guardian reached for her, its elongated, inky fingers stretching like tendrils. She spun, her boot slamming into its head with enough force to send it skidding across the blackened ground.

"That's for ruining my day!" she snarled, igniting the air around her in a dome of fire that forced several guardians to retreat.

Nyssara, meanwhile, was an image of calm lethality. Her magic crackled and shimmered in the air, forming sharp spikes that she hurled like javelins. Each spike struck true, pinning guardians to the ground where they disintegrated into clouds of black smoke. Yet for every one that fell, two more seemed to rise from the obsidian field, their forms emerging like wraiths from the stone.

"This isn't sustainable," Nyssara said, her voice steady but laced with tension. "They keep coming."

Daena gritted her teeth, slamming her fist into a guardian's chest and watching as it exploded into embers. "Then we just have to keep knocking them down until they stop."

The guardians shifted tactics, surrounding the pair in a loose circle. Their glowing eyes pulsed in unison, and the air grew even heavier. A low, haunting hum filled the space, like the droning of a thousand voices chanting in a language too ancient to decipher.

"They're charging something," Nyssara said, her tone sharp.

"Yeah, no kidding." Daena stepped closer to her companion, her flames flaring higher in response to the oppressive magic pressing down on them. "Any brilliant ideas?"

Nyssara smirked faintly. "Just one." She raised her hands, and the ground beneath them trembled. Thin veins of silvery light spread across the obsidian, forming intricate patterns that pulsed with energy.

"What are you doing?" Daena asked, her voice edged with both awe and suspicion.

"Giving them something to think about," Nyssara replied, her magic surging outward in a blinding flash. The light slammed into the guardians, scattering them like leaves in a storm. For a moment, the field was silent, the oppressive hum replaced by a ringing stillness.

But then the fragments of the guardians began to reassemble, their forms pulling back together like liquid shadows.

"Are you kidding me?" Daena groaned.

Marvello, who had wisely taken cover behind Beezle, peeked out. "Impressive effort, ladies! Really, top marks. But maybe we should consider retreating?"

"Retreat?" Daena snapped, sending a torrent of fire into the closest guardian. "Not my style."

Nyssara's voice was calm but firm. "This isn't about pride, Daena. These things are endless, and we're wasting energy."

Daena hesitated, her fists still glowing with heat. She hated running. But as she looked at the relentless swarm reforming around them, she knew Nyssara was right.

"Fine," she spat. "But I'm not happy about it."

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Nyssara smirked. "When are you ever?"

The two women moved in unison, their attacks shifting from offense to defense as they carved a path back toward the caravan. Daena's flames roared to life, forming a blazing barrier that forced the guardians to keep their distance. Nyssara's magic spiraled outward in sharp arcs, deflecting the few that managed to breach the wall of fire.

Marvello waved them over, his bells jingling madly. "Hurry up! Beezle can't hold this shield forever!"

The massive man stood at the edge of the caravan, his enormous hands raised as a translucent barrier shimmered around them. Beezle's face was strained, sweat dripping down his forehead as he held the shield in place.

"Move faster!" Marvello urged. "I'm too pretty to die!"

Daena rolled her eyes but picked up the pace, dragging Nyssara along with her. They reached the caravan just as the barrier began to falter, the guardians pressing against it like a tide.

"Go, go, go!" Marvello shouted, snapping the reins of his cart. The runes on the fabric flared, and the cart surged forward, leaving the field of obsidian behind.

As they sped away, Daena glanced back at the tower, her eyes narrowing. The guardians stood at the edge of the field, watching them go, their hollow eyes glowing faintly against the backdrop of the endless desert. The air in the cart was thick with tension, a silence punctuated only by the rhythmic creak of the wheels and the occasional jingle of Marvello's charms.

When the tower was finally out of sight, Daena exhaled deeply and leaned back against the side of the cart, running a hand through her disheveled hair.

"Well," she muttered, her voice rough but laced with a faint hint of amusement, "that was a load of fun."

Nyssara gave her a sidelong glance, her usual poise slightly ruffled. "If your idea of fun involves nearly getting obliterated by cursed constructs, then yes, it was delightful."

Marvello, sitting on a chest at the front of the cart, turned to face them, his cheeks already stuffed with what looked like dried fruit. "At least we're alive," he said, spraying crumbs. "I call that a win!"

"Barely," Beezle rumbled from his spot near the back, his massive arms crossed over his chest. His usual stoic demeanor was intact, though a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

The caravan rumbled to a halt beside a jagged outcrop of rock, its shadow providing much-needed relief from the relentless sun. Marvello hopped down with surprising grace, brushing his hands together. "Time for a celebratory meal, I'd say. Nearly dying works up quite the appetite."

"Is there ever a time you're not hungry?" Daena asked, arching a brow.

"Sure," Marvello replied with a grin. "When I'm eating."

Daena snorted, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile as she climbed out of the cart. Nyssara followed, smoothing her dress with practiced precision before stepping lightly onto the sand. Beezle hauled himself out last, his heavy boots sinking into the ground as he stretched, the faint pop of his joints audible in the stillness.

The group set up a small camp with practiced efficiency. Beezle lit a fire with flint and steel while Marvello laid out an assortment of provisions: hard bread, smoked meats, dried fruits, and a few mysterious bottles of liquid that gleamed amber in the fading light.

Daena plopped down beside the fire, her body aching from the battle but her stomach growling insistently. She grabbed a piece of bread and tore into it without ceremony, savoring the coarse, nutty flavor.

"Classy as always," Nyssara remarked, seating herself gracefully on a folded blanket. She picked up a piece of fruit, inspecting it delicately before taking a small, dignified bite.

Daena rolled her eyes. "Not all of us were born to sip wine and nibble on pastries, princess."

Nyssara smirked. "Clearly."

Marvello uncorked one of the bottles with a theatrical flourish. "Now, who's up for a drink? Beezle found this in the last village we passed some kind of local specialty."

Daena eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Define 'specialty.'"

Marvello shrugged. "It's strong, it's amber, and it doesn't smell like poison. What more do you need?"

"Sounds like my kind of drink," Daena said, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. The liquid burned its way down her throat, leaving a smoky, honeyed aftertaste. She coughed slightly, then grinned. "Not bad."

Nyssara took the bottle next, her movements graceful as always. She sniffed the contents cautiously before taking a small sip. Her expression remained composed, though her eyes widened slightly. "Interesting."

"That's Nyssara for 'actually good,'" Daena quipped, earning a faint glare from the demon queen.

As the fire crackled and the sun dipped below the horizon, the group relaxed into an easier rhythm. Beezle leaned back against a rock, his hulking frame illuminated by the flickering light. Marvello regaled them with exaggerated tales of his supposed past adventures, complete with wild hand gestures and over-the-top voices for every character.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"And then," he said, waving a piece of meat like a sword, "I stared the dragon down, my blade gleaming in the moonlight. It roared, but I didn't flinch. I said, 'Not today, you scaly bastard!' And with one swing, I—"

"You tripped over your own feet and fell into a pile of dragon dung?" Daena interrupted, her grin sharp.

Marvello clutched his chest theatrically. "Madam, you wound me! My bravery is unparalleled!"

Nyssara chuckled softly, her laughter like the chiming of bells. Even Beezle cracked a rare smile, his deep voice rumbling in amusement.

The night deepened, the stars emerging one by one in the vast desert sky. The oppressive weight of the day's battle began to lift, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and hard-earned relief.