A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

"I regret it has come to this, Lord Wyvern," the young Hydral sighed softly. "I offered you a chance. I had hoped we could deal with Evora immediately, but you've been consumed by desire and ambition."

Wielding power amidst the sea of feasting flames consumed hundreds or even thousands of times more energy than normal. Otherwise, Ansel would have long since called upon Ravenna to unleash devastation. Why else would he need such intricate calculations?

The Duke of Wyvern's realization was correct—Ansel's initial plan was to lure him, or more precisely, to entice whichever Duke had been influenced by fate to harbor hostility towards him, into attempting an assassination. Ansel couldn't know exactly which Duke fate had chosen as its pawn, though he could make an educated guess. But this uncertainty didn't affect his plan.

He relied on the ideals he had continually instilled in the order-inclined extraordinary beings, as well as his on-the-spot display of unwavering pursuit of a new order, to draw them to his side.

Even outnumbered, Ansel's strength was sufficient to bridge the power gap, especially with the mad Evora wreaking havoc.

Once Evora and those who might stand against him were defeated or eliminated, he would then... perform a certain degree of "pruning" among his own allies, retaining only those most essential. Thus, his initial objective of "eliminating the vast majority of top-tier extraordinary beings" would be achieved.

However, Evora seemed to possess some unforeseen protection, rendering her impossible to slay. More astonishingly, she had turned to him for salvation.

On the surface, this appeared to cause only minor perturbations to the plan, yet in truth... Ansel's stratagem had been utterly transformed.

Now, in this infernal crucible, the Duke of Wyvern found himself unable to isolate Ansel, robbing him of the opportunity to orchestrate an immediate, collaborative assault. Without divine aegis amidst the blood flames, their ethereal reserves would swiftly be depleted in such exorbitant expenditure.

What the Duke of Wyvern failed to comprehend was - how had they anticipated this?

Even if Ansel had foreseen an attempt on his life, how could he have possibly divined who would strike, and when?

The Duke of Wyvern, ever cautious, had deliberately gathered a faction to his side to create the illusion of unanimous support. In reality, others were dispersed, poised to launch a near-fatal offensive. Yet how could Ansel's allies… not only discern the nature of each impending attack but also mount such impeccable, targeted defenses?

...A traitor.

As this realization dawned upon the Duke of Wyvern, an azure-gold gem detonated behind him.

"Na...mo!"

His lacerated back rapidly regenerated, but Clement's fury could not be so easily quelled.

"Oh my, my apologies, Dear Clement."

Namo of Azuregold, now flickering behind Ansel, spread his hands in feigned regret. "I find I prefer... the rational order Lord Hydral envisions, rather than inheriting a realm governed by ignorant brutes such as… you."

He shook his head, sighing, "Amassing wealth meaninglessly in a chaotic wasteland pales in comparison to reveling in the splendor of riches within a vibrant paradise. They are utterly incomparable."

From the outset, Namo of Azuregold, ever the merchant, had never considered aligning himself with Clement.

This Duke, truly enamored with wealth, desired the Empire's prosperity more than anyone. He also understood... Ansel, more than any other, could bring about such flourishing.

— For he was a monster.

In his discourse with Ansel, the Duke of Azuregold recognized the true nature of this aberration and was filled with reverence.

Namo cared not whether Ansel's demeanor was genuine or facade; he only concerned himself with Ansel's capabilities. The answer was evidently affirmative.

Thus, without hesitation, he betrayed the Duke of Wyvern to Ansel, revealing who stood against him, allowing Ansel to prepare his defenses accordingly.

"You have lost, Clement," Ansel gazed at him with pity. "It is finished."

This conflict concluded in such an absurd manner.

Though preposterous and laughable, undoubtedly Hydral - who considered himself a villain and had committed countless unforgivable sins - now appeared in the eyes of those standing behind him as a paragon of virtue incarnate.

Moreover, it was through this very "righteousness" that he had turned the tables.

He resembled the hero from a bard's tale, always doing what was right, never failing to meet others' expectations, cutting a swath through adversity. When facing the final demon lord, on the brink of defeat, warriors he had once aided and hermits moved by his convictions came to his aid. Even the demon lord's own guards turned against their master.

The prayers of countless supporters became his strength, and his victory... became inevitable, the fulfillment of everyone's hopes.

All of this seemed to proclaim: The good deeds you have sown, whether intentional or not, shall ultimately bear fruit.

And now, this is your reward.

Ansel suddenly understood why people cherished tales of such kind and steadfast heroes, why the conventional was revered as the royal road.

For when such events unfold in one's own life, especially upon realizing that the root of this victory stemmed not from calculation, but from all he had genuinely done over the past decade, Ansel... truly experienced a joy welling up from the depths of his heart.

Yet this elation quickly dissipated. He did not believe this to be a time for rejoicing, and felt that... someone like him had no right to take pleasure in such matters.

What remained now was to deal with the aftermath.

The young Hydral looked towards Faust in the crowd, only to find Faust had been observing him, seemingly for quite some time.

Ansel had initially planned to exploit Evora's madness to plunge both sides into a bloody conflict, allowing him to dispatch the vast majority of extraordinary beings with minimal effort.

But the current situation... was not unfavorable either.

For his side had gained an unexpected advantage as well.

The Duke of Wyvern suddenly felt a sharp pain in his brain.

Then, his pupils contracted violently, his body convulsing involuntarily.

"You—"

His gaze was not directed at Ansel, but at the figure concealed within the crowd... Faust. Discover exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire

Not only him, but all the extraordinary beings standing with the Duke of Wyvern, those named by the Duke of Azuregold, exhibited similar symptoms.

Some convulsed, others howled in madness, ceaselessly expending their power as if deranged. The most affected charged towards Ansel in a frenzy, only to be nonchalantly swatted aside by Hydral.

The extraordinary beings on Ansel's side, as well as those who remained neutral, were stunned by this turn of events. They knew someone had planned to move against Ansel, but were unaware that... Ansel had long since prepared a countermeasure.

"Step back for now," Hydral said softly. "Those corrupted by the Abyss will remain in this frenzied state for several minutes."

"A few minutes... should suffice."

Ansel and the remaining extraordinary beings swiftly retreated. They cautiously examined the abyssal essence coating their bodies and the abyssal aura within, while simultaneously casting glances at Faust, whose countenance appeared strained.

This sudden madness was undoubtedly linked to Faust, but the question remained... How had he managed to corrupt over a dozen top-tier fifth-rank extraordinary beings without their knowledge?

Could there truly be an Abyss wielder as powerful as Hydral?

With mixed emotions, the remaining extraordinary beings watched as their inexplicably corrupted counterparts raged, recklessly expending their power.

Under these circumstances, it would indeed take only minutes for them to exhaust their ethereal reserves and be consumed by the feasting flames, leaving not even ashes behind.

"A pity," Ansel shook his head, observing from afar. "We've lost at least half the power needed to slay Evora."

"You gave them chances, Lord Hydral," the Duke of Azuregold shrugged. "Two, in fact."

"We could attempt to guide them towards... Evora," Faust, his face occasionally marred by wisps of darkness, murmured. "Don't waste this opportunity."

"..." Ansel raised an eyebrow slightly. He had intended to suggest this himself, but to maintain his current image, it would have been inappropriate to voice such a coldly pragmatic idea. He had been contemplating how best to phrase it when "Faust" spoke on his behalf.

Faust's current dangerous persona was well-suited to making such statements. Within seconds, volunteers stepped forward to attempt this guidance, quickly succeeding.

The once-visible golden shackles had all but vanished, nearly imperceptible now. Yet when the guided, frenzied extraordinary beings launched their attacks, a slender, dark golden entity suddenly extended from the throne's backrest, instantly impaling them.

The corrupted being struggled frantically against the animate-like dark golden tendril, but in their Abyss-addled state, they only wasted ethereal energy, hastening their own demise. Their body seemed to "adhere" to the dark golden appendage, as if being assimilated, before dissipating without a trace.

"What... is this?"

Pablo, a master alchemist, couldn't identify this bizarre creation. He muttered uncertainly, "This doesn't appear to be an alchemical construct... Is it something forged through secret methods during the Sky-Conquering Dynasty?"

"A throne capable of binding a Flamefeast descendant... No, that's not a throne. It's a cage, a prison for confining Bloodflame descendants. Who could possibly create such a thing?"

A prison...

Ansel gazed at the unconscious Evora, observing her pitiful state - half skeleton, half flesh. His eyes narrowed slightly.

Is this truly a prison?

The last time he saw Evora, she should have had more flames engulfing her, her condition even more wretched, and the purity of the feast flame should have been higher.

Now, the flames consuming Evora seemed to be approaching a golden hue. Moreover, Evora's initial state should have been her entire being consumed by Ephesande's flames!

Evora's condition was gradually improving, yet she still pleaded for his help.

"Perhaps, she's not being imprisoned," Ansel said softly.

"She's being... drained!"

Indeed, she was being drained!

This explained the seemingly endless blood flames - these weren't Evora's flames, but... Ephesande's!

Ephesande's flames that consumed Evora would never extinguish, never cease, while this strange throne incessantly extracted the feasting flame from Evora's body. Through this cycle, after an unknown duration in the Realm Enigmas, it had accumulated a near-infinite quantity of feast flame, albeit diluted in strength!

This explained Evora's improving condition, from initially being completely consumed to now having at least half of her body intact.

But Evora's plea for help indicated that this throne wasn't solving the problem of the Feasting flame consuming her, but rather causing her more trouble.

Without needing more information, Ansel had already guessed... what this trouble was.

The mysterious force that bestowed imperial qualities upon Suellen, and Evora being drained of something... Did that hysterical cry for help earlier need any further explanation?

If she wasn't rescued soon...

Evora Flamefeast would become nothing more than a useless husk.

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