Ascension Of The Villain

Lyon lay hunched over on the cold, damp stone floor of the cell, his breaths coming in ragged, pained gasps.

The frigid air bit at his skin, mingling with the sweat and blood that matted his disheveled hair to his forehead.

Towering over him, the well-built man in a gleaming knight's uniform dealt another vicious blow, his gauntleted fist connecting with a sicking thud against Lyon's ribs.

"Are you going to speak up now or what?" Vyan's voice cut through the air, as cold and sharp as a blade. He stood behind the knight, his presce a looming shadow of mace.

Lyon gasped, each breath a struggle. "What... what am I supposed to say if I don't know anything?"

"Is that so?" Vyan's face remained a mask of apathy, his eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction as he watched Lyon, bloodied and brok. "Michael, take the torture up a notch."

"Yes, Master," Michael replied with a small, defertial bow. He grabbed Lyon by the collar, lifting him effortlessly before delivering another of brutal blows.

Lyon's body slammed against the wall, and he coughed up blood, his mind racing , I won't say her name. No matter what. If he knows...

From his chair, Vyan's crimson eyes gleamed with a sinister delight. Lyon shivered, a chill running down his spine as he realized just how much Vyan was joying this tormt.

That psycho won't hesitate to torture her as well. I must protect her from him, Lyon thought desperately, just before the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him.

"Master, he has fainted. What should I do?" Michael asked, his voice steady, betraying no emotion.

"Pour boiling water on him," Vyan ordered, his voice icy. "He will speak. He has to. We need to know who dared to poison the Karloz River and croach on my territory."

"Understood, Master," Michael said, preparing to carry out the gruesome order.

As Michael sprang into action to gather the hot water, Vyan was lost in his thoughts, his expression a mask of cold calculation.

He was certain it was Marquess Estelle who had ordered the contamination of the Karloz River. But the Marquess, in his aristocratic arrogance, wouldn't have dirtied his own hands.

No, it was someone in Ashstone who had executed the plan. But who? It couldn't have be Lyon since he was rotting in this dank cell.

Michael returned, clutching the steaming pot, and looked to Vyan for permission, skepticism etched in his eyes.

Vyan gave a curt nod. Michael splashed the water, and Lyon jolted upright, gasping for breath, pain contorting his features.

"Ready for two?" Vyan asked, his voice dripping with malice. "Or are you going to spill the name and save us both some time?"

"N-no," Lyon stammered, his voice trembling.

"So much loyalty?" Vyan arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "For whom? Who could inspire such devotion in someone like you?"

Vyan was guinely curious now. From what he knew, Lyon was a selfish snake, willing to sell out anyone for the right price. So who could be worth this much pain?

"I don't know," Lyon mumbled, barely audible.

"Really?" Vyan's tone was mocking as he stood up. "You think I won't find that person out if you don't op your mouth? I will hunt that person down, one way or another."

He turned to leave, casting one last spiteful glance at the pitiful figure on the floor.

"Master, should I continue?" Michael asked.

"By all means," Vyan replied with an indiffert smirk. "Just make sure he stays alive. I want him to joy every momt that is yet to come."

As Vyan strode out, a faint smile formed on Lyon's cracked lips. Despite the agony, a twisted sse of pride filled him.

He had held on, if only for a little longer, and protected her name as much as he could.

———

Vyan stormed into the manor, each step up the grand staircase a sharp, angry punctuation mark.

"I will find that person you care about so much, Lyon, no matter what," he muttered under his breath, determination etched into every line of his face.

He didn't care who executed the marquess's plan anymore. Lyon's resistance made it clear it was someone significant, and that was ough to fuel Vyan's pettiness. He was going to uncover their idtity, by any means necessary.

Lost in his vgeful thoughts, he barely noticed Iyana standing at the top of the staircase.

"Good eving, Your Grace," she greeted him, her smile igmatic and, frankly, annoying in its ambiguity.

"Good eving," Vyan responded curtly, attempting to brush past her.

"You have be really busy," she remarked, leaning against the railing with an air of casual elegance that irked him ev more.

"All courtesy of your family," he retorted sharply, not missing a beat.

"What has my family done?" she asked, feigning offse, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

"Acting like you have no idea, huh?" He let out a mocking chuckle, stepping closer to her.

He casually rested his hands on the railings, and she backed against it further. His hands on her either side created an intimate, albeit tse, cage. His face hovered inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.

"You must have heard about the Walver village epidemic, right?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She nodded, maintaining eye contact with him.

"I know it was your family who started this."

Her eyes harded, defiance flashing through them. "There is no way."

He titled his head, amused at her confidce. "You must have forgott just how low your family can stoop."

"Who is to say you ar't just trying to provoke me against them?"

Vyan burst out laughing, a harsh, mirthless sound that echoed through the hallway as he stepped away from her.

"Geez, Iyana, you are going to kill me," he wheezed, the laughter lingering in his eyes. "Such a funny accusation."

His hand landed on her shoulder, his touch cold and electrifying. She shivered involuntarily.

"Trust me, Iyana, this is the one thing I wouldn't lie about. Your family," he squeezed her shoulder for emphasis, "is trash—utter trash."

His red eyes locked onto hers—unblinking, confidt, and disturbingly sincere. Her belief in her family began to almost waver under his intse gaze.

Gritting her teeth, she slapped his hand away, her eyes blazing. "Stop trying to poison my mind against my family. It's not going to work."

She spun a and stormed down the stairs, her steps echoing in the empty corridor. Behind her, his chuckle was low and mocking.

"Of course. But don't come crying to me wh they stab you in the back!" he called out, his voice laced with dark amusemt.

She halted, gripping the railing as she shot him a fiery glance over her shoulder. "Ev if they did, you would be the last person I would turn to!" she retorted, her words sharp as daggers.

Her heart pounded as she continued down the stairs, his laughter following her like a ghost.

She didn't need his cynicism—she had ough doubts of her own.

———

Later that night, Vyan was on the verge of ripping his hair out in frustration. He had combed through every magic book in his collection, but not a single spell could help him.

Clyde had already giv him the defeatist speech: there was no point. No witnesses, no one had be se visiting Lyon. It was a dead d.

"Seriously, Goddess Hecate, thousands of spells exist, but not a single one for this situation?" he huffed. "A spell to trace it back to that person? Is that too much to ask?"

He glared at the scattered books and faceplanted on the table, groaning. "Don't you care about the five hundred people who died from this? You are supposed to be the guardian!"

'Who are you kidding, you brat? You don't care about those people,' came a floating taunt in his head.

Vyan's head snapped up, his voice brimming with excitemt. "You actually answered me!"

'Well, you never called out to me before,' the Goddess of Magic responded, a hint of disappointmt in her ethereal tone. 'I honestly expected you to keep pestering me regularly.'

"You think I am that greedy?" he shot back, deadpan.

'Appartly not,' Hecate chuckled. 'But since you have finally asked, I will grant you a wish.'

"A spell to trace—" he started to say, but he was interrupted by her.

'No. Something ev better.'

His eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What is it?"

'I can only tell you where the incantations are stored, but you must be the one to master them.'

"I can handle that, no problem. But tell me what it is first."

'How impatit you are, my child.'

"You are dragging this out on purpose, ar't you?" he grumbled.

Her soft laughter echoed in his mind before she finally revealed, 'Why struggle through the hard route wh you can just go watch the past unfold?'

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