A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Upon the colossal circular table, capable of seating thirty, sat not only the ten Dukes who stood at the Empire’s pinnacle, but also nineteen others who… without exaggeration, could claim a seat among such esteemed company.

The President of the Alchemists’ Association, Pablo Celsus, accompanied by two other legendary master craftsmen; the three most formidable members of the Etheric Academy’s Supreme Nine; two of the seven founders of the Zero Explorers; the Terminus Hall, composed exclusively of extraordinary beings who traversed the abyss; the Path of Transcendence, few in number but each at least of the fourth stage; even the Chronos Guild, infamous throughout the Empire for its lethal reputation, had dispatched a representative.

Furthermore, scattered among them were solitary extraordinary beings, unaffiliated with any faction, whose names were spoken of in hushed whispers akin to legends.

Of the Empire’s hundred or so fifth-stage extraordinary beings, the cream of the crop had assembled, save for the Revolutionary Army’s legion commanders.

Indeed, not only the Dukes but also other extraordinary beings at the Empire’s zenith—all hand-picked by Ansel and swiftly summoned by the Dukes—now sat in silent anticipation, awaiting the words of the one who occupied the seat of honor.

“According to the roster, all invitees have arrived. Excellent,” declared the meeting’s orchestrator, whose youthful appearance stood in stark contrast to the gravitas of those assembled.

Fingers interlaced, he leaned back in his chair, his countenance remarkably serene despite the weighty and urgent circumstances.

“Given that each of you has managed to convene here from disparate locations in such a brief span, I trust everyone present has grasped the gravity of our situation.”

With a snap of Ansel’s fingers, a luminous screen materialized above the conference table.

It revealed a sky… awash in crimson.

Thirty-six fissures, seemingly alive, undulated slowly, each moment unleashing upon the earth the purest form of annihilation. The surreal spectacle of blood-flames gushing from the firmament was a scene one would expect to encounter only in the chaotic Zero Realm Enigma.

Even through this mere projection, the extraordinary beings found themselves rendered speechless.

Unlike the Dukes, those who belonged to independent organizations or operated alone had seldom faced the might of the Feastflames directly. Yet, their terror of the Empress was no less profound.

Even without overtly flexing her power, the Empress possessed myriad ways to bring any extraordinary being to their knees. Long before Ephesande devolved into the deranged tyrant who now cowered within the primal flames, she had already subjugated the entire Empire, much as Evora had done before her.

That power, capable of incinerating all matter, aether, elements—everything tangible and abstract—cast an inescapable shadow over the hearts of all extraordinary beings.

The mere sight of this scene rekindled their long-buried fears and tremors, shattering their composure.

Though they offered no overt reaction, Ansel effortlessly discerned the emotional turmoil afflicting most present—their fear, to him, was a fortuitous development.

While diverting their attention served one purpose, Ansel genuinely required their unwavering commitment… their utmost effort in the quest to vanquish Evora.

In the preordained future, the fate that befell Evora as she pursued Ephesande into the Lost Sea remained an enigma. Yet, Ansel was unequivocally certain that fate would not permit such a pivotal scion of the Flamefeast to perish silently in those waters. Undoubtedly, she had a more … significant role to play.

Eliminating Evora served dual purposes: thwarting even the remotest possibility of her reclaiming the throne and severing one of fate’s potential paths.

Fortuitously, this situation provided Ansel with an additional advantage—temporarily redirecting the malevolence that might have otherwise befallen him onto Evora instead.

Moreover, in convening the Dukes and summoning other elite extraordinary beings, Ansel harbored an ulterior motive of profound consequence.

The Hydral’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, concealing the depths of his malice.

He intended to orchestrate conditions that would lead to… the direct annihilation of the vast majority among these twenty-nine extraordinary beings.

The most effective strategy to prevent one’s own assassination is, naturally, to preemptively eliminate all potential threats—a plan Flamelle had initially conceived but was unable to execute due to Ephesande’s continued existence at the time.

The struggle between Hydral and the Flamefeast was beyond the purview of lower-stage extraordinary beings. Gathering such a formidable assembly of fifth-stage extraordinary beings was not merely for strategizing, but also for amassing pawns—or rather, cannon fodder.

In this climate where no one desired Evora’s return, regardless of one’s standing among fifth-stage extraordinary beings or personal inclinations, someone inevitably had to serve as a sacrifice.

Ansel’s objective was to transform this “someone” into… “most.”

“I regret to inform you all of distressing news,” the Hydral, harboring cruel and nefarious intentions, adopted a mien of sorrow.

“The former Elder Princess Evora has descended into complete madness. It appears she may intend… to annihilate the Empire.”

“No, to be precise, it’s not merely a possibility but a certainty. The current situation clearly indicates her desire for vengeance, her intent to utterly destroy the Empire.”

With Evora sequestered in her labyrinth, unable to offer any explanation, her condition and thoughts were entirely at Ansel’s discretion to portray.

However, his words were not entirely fabricated.

Ansel turned to address the Duke of Wyvern, seated second to his right, and sighed softly, “Duke of Wyvern, I believe… you witnessed her state of frenzy, albeit briefly.”

Suddenly thrust into the spotlight, the Duke of Wyvern hesitated momentarily before responding in a grave tone, under the scrutiny of the other extraordinary beings: “Indeed, Her Highness— Evora —in that state…”

The image of that woman, half her face reduced to bone, wreathed in blood-flames, with a maniacal gaze, flashed vividly in his mind, causing an involuntary twitch in his expression.

Even without further elaboration, his reaction alone spoke volumes to the other extraordinary beings about the dire state of Evora’s condition.

Ansel nodded slightly, simultaneously altering the projection. The sky, rent with thirty-six fissures, gave way to a landscape engulfed by endless blood-flames.

Plains, mountains, cities, settlements… all were consumed, corroded, and ultimately incinerated by the burning crimson.

The entire Western Land was gradually transforming into an abyss on earth.

“This is the current state of the West, six hours after the rifts opened,” Ansel declared, his own gaze fixed upon the blood-hued inferno depicted in the projection.

For a fleeting moment, as the conflagration reflected in his sea-blue eyes, his thoughts wandered—how fared Seri and Venna? How many lives had they managed to save?

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