Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 273: Died Like A Fool

There was a beat of silence.

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Then Vyan laughed—quiet at first, a dry exhale from his nose, but it bloomed into something darker. Not amused, but amused enough. "A curse?" he echoed, voice like velvet stretched over a blade. "That's rich."

He leaned back into his seat, eyes glinting with quiet thought. It was possible, he mused. But only in theory. At least in my case.

A soul left broken after so much failure, so much loss—wasn't it natural for despair to cling to its remains like fog? He imagined it: his soul, tattered and ravaged after all that loss, screaming out in a final moment of despair. Maybe the remnants of who he'd once been had cracked under the weight of betrayal, grief, and hopelessness.

Maybe the darkness had answered—not because he summoned it, but because he no longer had the strength to keep it out.

But then again, he wasn't just any sorcerer. If he had truly wished to drag the empire into oblivion, he wouldn't have needed dark magic or whispered incantations.

He had something far worse.

Destruction magic.

Raw, unchecked, absolute. A power so immense that, if unleashed to its full potential, could wipe the entire imperial capital into dust and silence in a single breath.

It was not a curse.

It was the death of possibility itself.

So why—why—would someone like him, armed with that kind of power, ever turn to the unstable, corrosive force of dark magic? His body couldn't tolerate its very presence. It made his skin crawl. His soul rejected it like poison.

And if he was sensitive to it now, it was likely he had been the same in that other version of reality. Because Sienna must have possessed him there as well, otherwise, the novel wouldn't even begin. In that case, the darkness would've devoured him before he could even whisper a curse.

No. The sequel must have portrayed it wrong. That wasn't how it all happened. Vyan wasn't responsible for it. They just needed someone to blame. And a dead villain always made for a convenient scapegoat.

"Hate to break it to you, Lady Leila," he said, voice smooth as silk, a dry smile displaying, "but I'm quite literally incapable of casting a curse. I can barely stand the stench of dark magic without gagging. Using it? Over my dead—well. Deader—body."

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm just repeating the tea, erm, stuff I heard about the novel while doing my cuticles."

He gave her a slow nod, lips twitching. "It's starting to make sense," he murmured, voice quiet and distant. "Those calamities you mentioned… war, plague, disasters… they weren't random. They were the empire's punishment from the Goddess."

Leila blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Punishment?"

He nodded slowly, crimson eyes narrowing as he put the pieces together like fractured glass being reassembled in his mind. "In that world, Easton inherited the crown, didn't he?"

"Yeah?"

"And Princess Althea didn't."

"Not that I know of."

"Then he must've been the blight," Vyan said, more to himself than to her. "The one the prophecy warned about… The empire's ruin."

Leila tilted her head, curious. "What prophecy?"

Vyan glanced at her, lips twitching. "Right… you wouldn't know. It was never made public here either. Only the council nobles know about it so far. But if it existed in this life, it must've existed in that one too. They just never mentioned it in your novel."

A deep sigh escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. He took a sip of his tea, bitterness lingering.

"I can't believe I was painted as a great evil villain dude," he said dryly. "A cursed existence that haunted the empire even after death. All I did was die like a fool and leave my subordinates to rot in chains and misery."

He looked down at his reflection in the tea—distorted, tired, and a little bitter.

"How did I even die in that novel? I don't think there's anyone in this empire capable of taking me down."

"Power of love, obviously," she stated like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Vyan blinked. "Come again?"

"You were defeated by Easton and Iyana. Together." Her lips twitched into a teasing smile. "Very wholesome. Very romantic."

Vyan looked personally offended. "What? That's… absurd. Iyana didn't even have aura in that story, and Easton—Easton's mana doesn't even hold a candle compared to mine. Even now, in this life. He doesn't have aura in either of them. How in the world would those two defeat me? That's complete bullshit."

"That's how it goes in novels," Leila said with a shrug, grinning as she took bites of her chocolate cake. "The OP, as in overpowered, villain always gets taken down by the power of love and friendship. Bonus points if there's a cheesy monologue involved."

Vyan groaned into his hand. "Oh, come on. If I had to be taken down, at least make it a worthy battle. They should have thrown in some elite troops there. Use strategy. Exploit my weakness. Something. Anything."

They didn't even use dark magic… His mind ticked angrily. They didn't exploit the one thing I couldn't fight. The author just snapped their fingers and poof—the main villain, gone. No sense, no logic. Just narrative convenience.

Leila chuckled again, shaking her head. "Yeah, don't worry. Readers agreed. The climax scene? Straight-up garbage. Even the fan forums were flaming with 'What was that ending?' rage."

Vyan's face twisted into a grimace of disbelief and artistic betrayal.

Silence fell for a moment.

Then he turned to her again, eyes sharp despite the exasperation. "Anything else you remember? Just tell me. I want to know how much worse it gets," he groaned, sipping his tea.

To calm his mind, he started to think that he wanted to see Iyana. Maybe he would go pick her up from her office today. She would surely be surprised. That thought got him to feel slightly better.

No, scratch that, just the thought of seeing her in a few hours was enough to make him all giddy.

Leila tapped her chin, thinking. "Hmm… Oh. Yeah. I think… Easton and Iyana had three kids in the end—"

Crack.

The porcelain teacup in Vyan's hand splintered apart with a sharp, clean snap.

Leila flinched in shock as she stared at the tea dripping onto the floor like blood from a wound.