A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Clement of Wyvern returned to his residence.

He now stood in the grand hall of the Wyvern family manor, a legacy spanning seven centuries, his gaze fixed upon the portrait adorning the spacious staircase entrance.

The Wyvern family’s glory originated from an ancestor seven hundred years ago who, unprecedented in human history… forged a pact with dragonkind.

This covenant ensured that each generation of the Wyvern lineage would bear one individual endowed with a mark granting the power to command dragons and partially embody their characteristics, while also offering protection from draconic assaults during the Dragon Calamity—akin to the inheritance of the Flamefeast.

The price paid by the first Duke of Wyvern remains a mystery known only to the Empress and Hydral. Nonetheless, it bestowed upon him the might to dominate the Western lands, allowing his family’s legacy to endure for over seven centuries to this day.

“Ansel… of Hydral,” Clement murmured, his eyes transfixed on the ancestral portrait.

Though maintaining a composed and dignified facade, Clement could sense the underlying nonchalance and disdain… emanating from the very core of that young monster.

He seemed utterly indifferent to the implications of the Flamefeast’s reemergence in the mortal realm, or perhaps, even if aware, he regarded it as no threat whatsoever.

Astonishingly… he held neither Evora nor Ephesande in any esteem.

Hydral and the Flamefeast were undoubtedly equals, with neither divine species capable of overpowering the other. However, the crux of the matter lay in the current absence of so-called divine species.

Hydral’s disregard for the Dukes was inconsequential, but his dismissal of both the Empress and the heir apparent was abnormal.

—He possessed merely three pact heads, or strictly speaking, only two.

Clement was certain that the young Hydral was no ignorant being; rather, beneath this arrogance lay an unparalleled confidence in his own capabilities.

Hydral’s power stemmed from the completeness of his pact heads. Not only did bestowing his original “heads” upon others grant him independent, formidable combat prowess, more crucially, it allowed him to extract feedback from the pact heads through a connection transcending the boundaries of life and death.

The Head of Strength, while possessing terrifying physical prowess and the ability to manipulate Hydral’s body projection, bore the responsibility of enduring harm on Hydral’s behalf… Although not mandatory, Hydral typically activated this function.

Simultaneously, a portion of the Head of Strength’s physical power was transmitted to Hydral himself.

The Head of Wind’s raw strength was negligible, and as for the remaining pact head… Ravenna Zeigler, without the support of sufficiently vast elements, could never construct the power known as God from the Machine. Thus, she was likely Hydral’s Head of Abyss.

The Head of Abyss was tasked with organizing Hydral’s complex elements, far beyond mortal comprehension, and could, to some extent, invoke Hydral’s cognition and understanding of these elements—even if personally ignorant of them, achieving Hydral’s level of mastery.

The feedback from the Head of Abyss was simpler; with the Head of Abyss handling the organization, Hydral’s flexible application of elements naturally saw a quantum leap in improvement.

But could this truly propel Hydral’s might to such heights in a mere year, elevating him to a station where even the Flamefeast… was deemed insignificant at all?

In the heart of the desolate grand hall, Clement gazed intently at the dragon portrayed in the portrait. Through the gossamer veil of paint, those dark golden, vertical pupils, seemingly alive, conveyed with unmistakable clarity the dragon’s contemptuous regard for all creation.

“…”

Wordlessly, the man lowered his gaze, studying the diamond-shaped scales on his wrist with a contemplative mien.

“He harbors yet deeper machinations…” murmured Clement, he whom the Duke of Azuregold christened a “pure ambitionalist.” “Abyss… abyss, Faust…”

“Might this be your preemptively positioned piece in the Western lands, Hydral?”

A profound loathing and trepidation flashed in his eyes, swiftly suppressed.

The battle from three years past remained Clement’s lifelong shame and taboo. Far from allowing others to speak of it, he himself dared not revisit those memories—recollections of his own wretchedness, terror, trembling, and… despair.

After a prolonged silence, Clement turned and strode towards the manor’s exit.

“Hector,” he called to his servant, “prepare a gift of the highest caliber and dispatch it to Hydral’s domain forthwith.”

The servant, standing silently at the manor’s entrance, his form entirely sheathed in obsidian scales with fleshy wings sprouting from his waist, bowed low. “Understood, my lord. I shall see to it at once.”

At this juncture, focus ought to be directed towards the matter of the Regent. Should Ephesande and Evora truly meet their demise, the insights gleaned from this contention would undoubtedly prove invaluable in future rivalries.

Barring the Duke of Azuregold, the Western lands’ three Dukes had temporarily set aside their grievances, uniting in support of Diana… Though their original aim had been the sweet, easily manipulated Suellen, the Eastern Port’s swift action had thwarted their designs.

Nevertheless, it mattered little. This struggle for the Regent’s seat, ostensibly a test of the two Flamefeast scions’ governance capabilities, was fundamentally a clandestine contest among the Dukes.

Victory was not imperative; the Duke of Wyvern had never aspired to sate his ambitions through mere puppet mastery. Acquiring sufficient intelligence and even trump cards from the Eastern Port during this confrontation would secure an advantage in future, more crucial engagements.

At this moment, to challenge Hydral, who held even the Empress in contempt, would be the utterly foolish choice—

Clement’s steps abruptly faltered.

A sudden thought flashed through his mind:

Was this truly such an utterly foolish choice?

If Hydral’s strength truly reached such unfathomable heights, if he indeed possessed such formidable power with merely three pact heads that even the return of the Flamefeast clan failed to perturb him, allowing his unimpeded growth…

The fragile equilibrium between the Dukes and Hydral stemmed from three sources: firstly, Ansel’s meticulously crafted, impeccable public image; secondly, his undeniable capacity to effortlessly replace at least half the Dukes; and lastly… the presumption that he could not possibly grow significantly stronger.

Lacking inheritable power, unable to devour Framelle, incapable of reaching the sixth stage… and more likely unwilling to ascend to the sixth stage to avoid entanglement with Hydral’s accursed bloodline and curse, he would never wield the Empress’s absolute might.

But what if that monster had discovered a novel path? A route that could shatter the divine species’ legacy and even liberate him from the divine curse… What then?

A terrifying notion suddenly blazed through the man’s mind.

He still had… other pact heads!

Not merely his own strength, but that catastrophic Marlowe, capable of tearing apart a fifth-stage dragon with fourth-stage power, and that mechanically nerdy Zeigler, possessing extraordinary talent in alchemy and sorcery… As Hydral’s power ceaselessly grew, as the number of his pact heads gradually increased, even if unable to recreate the absolute might of the divine species, what of it?

When that time came, would anyone in the Empire dare defy his will?

“Faust… yes, that Faust, likely a pact head he had long since chosen! That abyssal power, far beyond mortal control… the Head of Souls or the Head of Darkness! He may well have made preparations far earlier.”

“…How could I have forgotten this crucial point? How could I have been so blind?”

The flash of insight in his mind instantly led the Duke of Wyvern to further realizations. He recalled the Regent affair, orchestrated and manipulated by Ansel, Hydral’s seemingly normal yet oddly unyielding stance in the Flamefeast palace, and finally, his recent arrogance towards the Flamefeast clan, apparently dismissive…

The manipulated pawn, in a daze, murmured:

“He’s bluffing, he’s… buying time!”

While the Empire’s nobility engaged in overt and covert struggles for the Regent’s position, vying for supreme authority, Hydral, who had instigated this affair, had already detached himself. With an entirely harmless and seemingly desireless demeanor, he watched their absurd conflicts with amusement, all the while secretly amassing his own power…

until he possessed strength that, while perhaps not comparable to the divine species, was nonetheless sufficient to dominate the Empire!

“Hector!”

Clement suddenly bellowed. The servant, who had gone to prepare the gift, returned, asking with a mix of alarm and confusion, “What is it, my lord?”

The Duke of Wyvern exhaled slowly, then spoke in a grave tone, “Cancel the gift to Hydral’s domain. Instead, send it to…”

He suddenly gave a cold laugh, his normal eyes seeming to distort momentarily into draconic vertical pupils.

“Send it to Edward Sapphire, to the Duke of Sapphire.”

“Inform him that there is a matter of far greater importance than the Regent dispute. We must converse most urgently.”

Though perplexed, Hector would never question his master’s decision. He immediately bowed respectfully and departed once more.

Clement recognized a colossal error, and he was immensely grateful for this realization.

Ansel of Hydral had positioned himself impeccably.

He projected an image of ferocity not to be trifled with, backed by overwhelming might that deterred any rash action. Simultaneously, his inability to ascend to the sixth stage and decades of cultivating a benevolent image had crafted a persona that seemed harmless if left undisturbed.

This monster… could never truly be harmless. Any notion of viewing him as such, of believing his current strength to be limited, or even the idea of recruiting him to counterbalance other Dukes, was utter folly.

Moreover, if Evora still lived, it could only mean… Ephesande was doomed!

Thus, even in the most optimistic scenario, even if Hydral hadn’t orchestrated the schemes Clement imagined, he absolutely could not be allowed to develop unimpeded! The next to be dealt with must be Hydral himself!

Only now, only at this moment—

Was the optimal time to extinguish his threat!

With this realization, the Duke of Wyvern forcibly suppressed the urge to contact more Dukes. Ansel must not discover his murderous intent, lest that silver-tongued monster somehow twist the situation from an unexpected angle.

He must wait for Hydral’s weakness, for the perfect opportunity. At the very least, he needed to secure the support of six or more Dukes before he could—

“My lord, my lord! Something terrible happens!!”

A terrified shriek pierced the air from outside, causing the Duke of Wyvern to furrow his brow slightly.

His governance of subordinates was stringent, never allowing such undignified behavior. Just as he was about to reprimand the offender, a half-dragon man with brown scales burst through the main door, shouting: Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire

“The sky… the sky!”

*