A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Indeed… contemplating trivialities could never aid her breakthrough. Only combat, only carnage! Ansel…

“Ansel!”

She cackled maniacally in the storm, her severed vocal cords regenerating at a terrifying pace. Forgetting her mission, her obligations, all thoughts of not disrupting Ansel’s plans, Seraphina Marlowe had never felt so free, so enlightened, and so… powerful!

Landing point, trajectory, path – the sole route through hundreds of whirling blades to reach Ansel, a fleeting one-in-ten-million chance.

I… have seized it!

I have seized it!

She wrung out the last dregs of aether from her body, no… not just wrung out, but overdrew, greedily devouring herself, her flesh, transmuting it into even more potent power. An unprecedented surge of crimson-black energy erupted from her tattered form, so pure it wasn’t instantly shredded by the storm!

This momentary crimson-black wave transformed into a pack of insatiably hungry wolves, indiscriminately and frenziedly gnawing at the surrounding aether fluctuations.

Though it could only cause the slightest disturbance, unable to truly shake the legendary power, a beast fighting for its life gambles everything to let the one she loves, deeply loves, loves most, witness her growth, witness her strength!

For you… my love… my Ansel… I can definitely accomplish anything!

“Ansel! Watch me, I’m coming —”

Bang!

In the wake of a muffled thunderclap, a figure drenched entirely in blood was hurled from the tempest.

The terrifyingly potent shockwave catapulted her several hundred meters, carving a deep furrow that bore witness to the violence and brutality of the strike.

Seraphina, her limbs shattered, spine utterly crushed, and skull fragments piercing her brain, teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

She knew Ansel’s blow could have ended her life, if he ever wanted to — undoubtedly.

Yet this “battle” was never meant to be a true fight to the death, merely Ansel’s test.

Which meant… it was over.

This was her limit.

Struggling against oblivion, Seraphina’s mind replayed the recent scene.

She had pushed herself to the utmost, channeling the Head of Wind, driving her power to its zenith, finding that ephemeral path through the storm to reach Ansel.

With the resolve to transmute even her flesh into aether, the power unleashed in the face of certain death, and an overwhelming surge of ardent love and passion, she had attained her most perfect, most extreme, unrepeatable peak state, propelling herself before Ansel.

She believed she would have succeeded — a mere raising of her hand or opening of her mouth would have allowed her to tear a piece of flesh from him.

But… it was not to be.

As she reached Ansel, his hand was already raised, pressed against her face.

Through his fingers, Seraphina glimpsed Ansel’s expression and gaze.

No longer disguised as Faust, Ansel’s countenance and eyes were purely his own — Ansel of Hydral’s.

Seraphina saw the gentleness and encouragement there.

“Well done, Seri,” they seemed to say.

Then, from Ansel’s palm erupted an irresistible force.

Had Ansel wished it, that single strike would have obliterated her entirely.

Of course… How could I have forgotten?

That is only Ansel’s weapon.

Has Ansel ever truly exerted himself?

He was simply controlling his weapons. Has he ever employed his own power?

As consciousness slipped away, Seraphina’s body slowly curled inward.

Her muscles and bones were gradually mending, but her shattered spine should have prevented such movement. Yet she managed it nonetheless.

Though born of a specific emotion, it wasn’t due to some indomitable will.

Rather, it was the endless… frustration that engulfed Seraphina’s heart.

Frustration, frustration, frustrationfrustrationfrustration —

Why haven’t I reached the fourth stage yet?

Why, even now, can I only withstand a single strike from Ansel?

To achieve such heights with a third-stage body, a feat so extraordinary it could be sung by bards for centuries, was, in Seraphina Marlowe’s heart, utterly unacceptable — a colossal shame.

“I shall not… fall… down.”

From her throat emerged a distorted sound, as her shattered spine forcibly knitted itself together while her body continued to arch!

All this time, all this effort… I must prove to Ansel… that I can now aid him, that not every challenge must be his sole burden to bear!

This is not the end, not yet —

ROAR!!!

A heaven-shattering bellow utterly dispersed Seraphina’s final thoughts, painstakingly gathered with her utmost effort.

It was the roar of an apex predator.

— The dragon’s cry.

“How timely indeed.”

On the brink of oblivion, hearing these words, Seraphina forced her eyes open.

She witnessed Ansel draping a garment over her before stepping forward, his gaze fixed upon the sky.

The sky… what lies there?

“Duke of Wyvern, hm… Are you truly so fearful of who I was three years ago, as Crow claimed?”

While Seraphina’s test was undoubtedly crucial, armed with the Crow’s intelligence, Ansel knew well what would be today’s main event.

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An immense dragon of glacial blue descended from the heavens, its emotionless cyan vertical pupils surveying the frail life forms below, locking onto its target.

“Very well.”

The young Hydral exhaled slowly: “Seri has, to some extent, set my blood afire.”

ROAR!!!

The colossal dragon, now looming above Dispute Fortress, unfurled its wings to blot out the sky, once more bellowing its challenge to Ansel.

“Then let the name of Faust once again —”

Ansel, about to declare the commencement of battle, suddenly halted.

For he sensed something awakening behind him.

Frustration, frustrationfrustrationfrustration-

I am not finished. This battle, this struggle, cannot end thus.

You damned reptile, lizard, you dare to defile my Ansel, to… taint my hunt?!

“Mine…”

The wolf, whose will should have been scattered by the dragon’s roar, inexplicably rose to her feet, swaying!

She raised her head, meeting those enormous cyan vertical pupils. Her dark red eyes… had also contorted into vertical slits.

The eyes of a serpent!

“Ansel is… mine…”

All reason and humanity seemed to have been erased from those ophidian eyes, indicating that Seraphina’s consciousness had indeed succumbed to slumber. Thus, what now controlled her body could only be…

The beast within.

“My love, my… prey.”

My prey!

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