Ascension Of The Villain

"No way in hell am I letting my best friend walk into that demonic pit. I strictly forbid it!" Clyde announced, holding onto Vyan's arm tightly as if warding off a curse.

"You forbid it?" Vyan shot him a blank stare, not bothering to shake off his eccentric aide.

Althea tilted her head and placed a hand on her hip, amused. "What is your issue with the prestigious Tower of Magic?"

Clyde straightened dramatically, as though he were about to deliver a tragedy. "They work you like a dog. Day in, day out. No breaks. No holidays. You start seeing illusions, Athy. Did you know I was engineering mana circuits in my dreams?"

Both Vyan and Althea groaned, shaking their heads at the dramatics.

Clyde jabbed a finger in the air. "I know you guys don't trust me, but trust me on this! That place drains souls. I swear, by the third month, you forget what sunlight is. Your brain goes numb. You start naming your artifacts like they're your kids."

Althea blinked. "Wait… did you—?"

"His name was Flint," Clyde muttered solemnly. "He was a three-phase mana conductor. We bonded."

Vyan blinked slowly. "Poor choice of name, but okay."

"I couldn't even recognize my own face by the end of my project,s" Clyde went on, utterly unbothered by their exasperation. "My poor, beautiful face—sullen, dark, with wild hair and an unwanted beard. I looked like a tortured slave who hadn't been fed for weeks, which now that I think about it, was true. I was a slave there, indeed."

"You care way too much about appearances," Vyan muttered with a sigh, slipping the access card into his coat.

Althea chuckled, resting her cheek against her knuckles. "Well, we've always known he loves his appearance a little too much."

Clyde turned to her, eyes wide and wounded. "Wait—are you saying I'm not handsome enough to be proud of my looks?"

She grinned sweetly. "Of course you are. You're the most handsome man in the empire."

Vyan made a face, gagging. "Alright, I'll leave you two to your romantic interlude. I have better things to do."

As he headed for the door, Clyde called after him, "Take your time! Just don't pretend to forget the way and end up in Lady Iyana's office."

Vyan raised a hand in a lazy wave without turning around. "Now that's a rare good idea that came out of your mouth. I might follow through with it."

The door shut softly behind him, leaving Clyde and Althea in warm silence, her soft laughter still echoing faintly through the room.

"Ah," she suddenly recalled and murmured, "I forgot to ask Vyan… if he noticed anything strange with Easton."

———

The path to the Imperial Library stretched longer than usual today, winding past silver fountains and corridors flanked by silent marble sentinels. Vyan walked briskly, his cape whispering behind him as the crisp afternoon air stirred the hem. It was far from the bustle of the central palaces—tucked away like a forgotten relic, fitting for a place that housed knowledge too dangerous for memory and too precious to be spoken aloud.

He paused for a moment near the arched garden wall, catching sight of the distant rooftops of the Crystal Palace. A strange ache twisted in his chest.

Ronan… Katelyn… it's been a while.

There was a flicker of hesitation. Perhaps he should've dropped by, just to see how they were faring. He has been so busy lately. It would be relaxing to see the two of them.

Katelyn would've greeted him with her usual over-the-top dramatics, throwing a spunky insult or two in his face before dragging him into a room full of noise and life. And Ronan would've probably been reading something for academic purposes before reluctantly joining in.

And Tia…

His footsteps slowed.

A shadow crept into his chest—not sharp, but dull, lingering. Celeste had tried. She had truly tried to make up for what she did, for the things she let happen to him and his brother. But still… the cracks didn't mend so easily. Especially not when she looked so heartbreakingly like their mother.

He tilted his head up to the vast, cerulean sky above, cloudy and endlessly open. It seemed like it was going to rain soon. It was the monsoon season, after all. The weather could get upset at any moment. As a dark cloud floated into his vision, his heart squeezed, trembling like a thread in the wind.

"Mother…" he whispered, voice fragile enough to break. "Everything will go okay, right?"

No answer came from the heavens, only the distant rustle of leaves and the quiet beat of his own breath. And yet, strangely, the pressure in his chest lessened, his pulse steadied. Her absence still hurt, but in this silence, there was peace. Just enough to keep walking.

The ivory steps of the library building welcomed him in stoic silence, its double doors opening like a secret finally unlocked. A tall guard at the entrance nodded.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace. May I see your library card, please?"

Vyan handed it over with a casual flick of his wrist. The guard checked it, bowed, and stepped aside.

Inside, the scent of ancient parchment and aged wood greeted him like an old friend. A bespectacled librarian stood up from behind his desk.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace. It's been a while since you dropped by. Do you require any assistance?"

Vyan gave a small, nonchalant shake of his head. "No, thank you. Just looking around."

The librarian didn't press. He knew this routine. The Grand Duke always preferred to be left alone, browsing through shelves with a quiet intensity, like he was searching for something only he could recognize. But today, the fire in Vyan's eyes was different. Focused. Heavy.

As the librarian returned to his chair and began scribbling something, Vyan took a slow breath and whispered a tiny command under it. A small snap of his fingers followed—and the librarian's pen slipped from his grasp mid-sentence. His head drooped. A soft snore replaced the scratching of ink.

Vyan exhaled, half-annoyed, half-satisfied. "Sorry, old man," he muttered. "Nothing personal."

He slipped through the iron gate that marked the boundary of the restricted section. His boots clicked faintly on the black marble floor as he entered the heart of what should have been off-limits. Dim orbs lit up overhead, flickering gently like dying stars, illuminating the titles that lined the high shelves.

The Forbidden Magic Section.

It wasn't his first time here—not exactly. But this was the first time he came with intent. Not for idle curiosity. Not for the thrill of disobedience. But because something inside him demanded answers… something ancient, clawing, and alive.

He scanned the titles—Chronicles of Elemental Dismemberment, Binding the Soul: A Study of Necrofire, The Crimson Law…

His fingers hovered near a crimson-bound tome, its title nearly faded from time itself.

Just as he reached out to pull it—

Crack!

There was a deafening thunderclap.

He froze.

A prickling sensation crawled down his spine as the pitter-patter of rain started outside. He wasn't alone.

His breath caught in his throat as he turned his head slowly over his shoulder—and locked eyes with her.

Jade.

The empress stood barely an arm's length away, cloaked in scarlet silks that shimmered like serpent scales under the dim light. Her gaze was razor-sharp, her presence suffocating. And worse—he hadn't sensed her. Not even a flicker. No ripple in the air. No sound. Nothing.

How…? His pulse spiked.