A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Within a colossal cubic space, each dimension spanning a hundred meters, stood Ansel, leaning on his scepter, his other hand resting behind his back, gazing upward with composure at a pure white dragon whose wingspan of eighty meters nearly filled the vast enclosure.

The dragon, cautious and fearful, watched the "human" below, who seemed as insignificant as an ant, with its massive threatening body, yet it dared not descend to the ground. Even with its head brushing against the ceiling and its wings flapping with difficulty, it refused to lower its altitude.

This crystalline white dragon, a formidable threat during the dragon calamities of the West, could [crystalize] even spells with its breath, ranking among the most powerful of dragon kind.

Yet now… it behaved like a cornered, frightened huge child, attempting to appear menacing in a futile effort to intimidate some unseen beast.

In truth, the dragon's bluster was commendable; its lineage afforded it a semblance of confidence in the presence of Ansel. Any other creature would have prostrated itself in terror or fainted on the spot.

But the dragon was unaware that its true fear should not be the terrifying aspect of Hydral as a beast, but the despair, far more profound and irresistible.

The young Hydral raised his hand, his sea-blue eyes giving way to an engulfing darkness that transformed his enchanting gaze into the vertical pupils of a serpent. Simultaneously, the immense space around them—the walls, the floor, the ceiling—was rapidly overtaken by an indescribable darkness, devoid of any light. In that instant, the crystalline white dragon let out a cry of extreme terror.

"Roarrrrrr —"

It flapped its wings frantically, colliding with the ceiling and then the walls in a desperate attempt to escape. But the darkness had already consumed everything, leaving not a trace of light.

The dragon's large aquamarine eyes were also tainted by that absolute blackness. It roared in despair and anger, its body flashing with a blinding light as if to make a final, defiant stand.

However… it was too late.

Under the relentless onslaught of the dark, the light emanating from the crystalline dragon gradually faded, and the frenzied beating of its wings slowed. It descended gracefully before Ansel, its emotions unexpectedly… serene.

It was as if the dragon had returned to its nest, found a place of utmost safety… a true sense of belonging.

The fear, the madness, the deep-seated instinct to flee—all seemed like mere illusions.

The proud dragon now meekly bowed its massive head, its eyes devoid of any color, as if completely enveloped and saturated by the darkness, becoming one with it, sending shivers down one's spine.

Simultaneously, its body began to undergo a grotesque transformation that was chilling to witness—its spine bulged, tearing through flesh and scales as if the entire backbone was being extracted. The ornate scales on either side of its chest peeled away, revealing swelling lumps of flesh that pulsed as if something was about to burst forth.

Confronted with this monstrous aberration, Ansel simply smiled and caressed its massive head, murmuring, "Good boy, good boy..."

The deformed dragon exhaled a contented and submissive breath, devoid of its initial frenzy and resistance. Ansel, with narrowed eyes, remarked, "What a pity, you're a failure... End yourself."

"..."

Without any sign of resistance or confusion, the dragon tilted its head slightly as if puzzled.

Then, with a swift and almost joyful motion, it bit into its own body, its large claws digging into its chest with a decisiveness and ferocity as if it were destroying an enemy, not itself.

"Puff..."

Ansel closed his eyes, taking a gentle, measured breath.

"Has success eluded us once more?"

Flamelle's voice preceded his arrival in the space.

A nobleman of middle years, distinguished and handsome, held a pocket watch, smiling as he glanced at his son: "Even through the void, I heard your sigh, Ans."

"I harbored little expectation," Ansel shook his head, "the same as ever."

"Yet this crystaline dragon holds extraordinary potential; it has consumed the eggshell of this generation's Dragon King."

With these encouraging words, Flamelle toyed with his pocket watch, and time began to rewind upon the dragon's corpse, restoring it within seconds to its original state, untouched by darkness, suspended in midair.

The man placed his hand on the button atop the pocket watch, raising an eyebrow: "Shall we… try again?"

"There's no need."

Ansel turned to leave, apparently intending to depart: "There's no point in wasting more energy."

"Very well," Flamelle shrugged, "I shall take this little one and craft something... Your mother seems to lack a beautiful gown; she would look stunning in it—Ah, but wait, Ans, don't rush off just yet."

He snapped his fingers, and all essences around were sealed, preventing Ansel from leaving.

The young Hydral turned, gazing at Flamelle, who was brimming with mirth, and asked softly, "What is it, Father?"

"That young lady," Flamelle revealed a meaningful smile, "the one who let you truly troubled me for the first time, how is your progress with her?"

"... Nearly there," Ansel responded calmly, "Why do you ask?"

"Your pact head, I must naturally take an interest."

Flamelle spoke as if it were a matter of course: "Besides, this is Ephesande's domain, and many of your plans may not proceed as you wish."

"I never place my hopes on the absolute success of anything."

Ansel explained his principles to Flamelle: "That would be unrealistic, Father."

Flamelle watched him for a while, then said with a smile, "Confidence is good. Make haste."

"..." Ansel's eyes lowered slightly, "Why?"

"Because I'll be leaving soon," the mature Hydral stated, "I am quite busy, Ans. Regarding the potion that could change everything, I'm on the verge of a breakthrough. Soon, I'll delve into the Zero Realm Enigma, and you won't be able to reach me. It's best to secure that young lady quickly, so I can tailor a gift for her before I depart."

"I will."

Ansel replied softly: "Now, may I go, Father?"

Flamelle waved his hand with a smile: "Do your best, and aim to leave her weeping in your arms."

"By the way, Evora is waiting for you outside, what have you discussed with her?"

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