Villain Throne:I Build An Empire On Bones

The battlefield reeked of death, crimson pools under a cold moon's glare. A white-haired boy's voice cut the slaughter, sharp as a blade, raw with fury.

"Your evil ends now!" His shout shook, fierce, unyielding.

A boy lay sprawled in the blood-wet earth, a sword buried in his chest. The blade's hilt gleamed, cruel, mocking his fading pulse. His gasps rasped, each breath a war, but his crimson eyes burned—defiant, alive, a fire no death could snuff.

His name, Zairen, once sung with love, now spat like poison.

He glared at the hero looming above. Three figures flanked the boy, their faces aglow in moonlight's harsh veil. To the world, saviors. To Zairen, daggers in his soul.

Elyra, his sister, gripped a glowing staff and a worn spellbook, her black hair a mirror of his. She'd once held him, whispering, "You're my brother, not a monster."

Liora, his best friend, clutched a nun's cross, pink robes stained with filth. She'd prayed for him when the world cursed his name.

Aria, his fiancée, golden hair tangled, a cracked crown glinting. She'd begged him to dance under starlight, vowing forever.

Now, their eyes seared with hate. No brother, no friend, no lover—just a plague to burn away.

Elyra stepped closer, staff flaring, tears streaking her face. Her voice held steady, cracking only at the edges. "Zairen, do you regret it? All you've done?"

His chest tightened, the sword's sting drowned by her words. Memories slashed him—the day they betrayed him, when he roared for justice and they turned to stone.

They forged this monster, he thought, rage a blade in his gut. They'll choke on their lies.

He laughed—a raw, choking roar, soaked in madness and pain. It tore the night, freezing the hero and girls in its echo.

"Regret?" he spat, red streaking his chin. "Don't make me laugh."

His laughter swelled, wild, a beast's howl shredding the dark.

"I regret nothing."

His voice cut like steel, eyes locked on them. "Another chance? I'd burn it all again. Your peace, your kingdom—I'd grind it to ash to feel alive!"

Venom dripped from his words, his eyes a storm of anguish and wrath.

The hero sneered, stepping forward. "A soulless monster. Save your tears."

Aria, Liora, and Elyra turned, shadows sharp in moonlight's grip. Each threw a final, hateful glance. Then they vanished.

Zairen was alone.

The wind screamed, carrying cheers from the kingdom he'd razed. His blood soaked the earth, a curse on a world that despised him.

He stared at the sky. Stars glared, cold as knives.

"They cheer…" he rasped, voice fading. "Their hero… their lies…"

A single tear traced his face, swallowed by blood.

"What a life…"

"A hollow, cursed life."

Memories clawed—cities burned, friends betrayed, love crushed to dust.

He smirked, bitter, venomous. "I'd still choose ruin."

His laugh returned, cracked, bloody, defiant to the end.

"I'd do it all again. Rip this world apart. Damn me to hell, I'd revel in it."

His coughs racked him, blood spraying, soaking the dirt as his body slumped, vision fading, death's claws tightening.

Then—a white feather drifted down, pure against the filth. Beside it, a necklace, its chain snaring moonlight.

His trembling fingers clutched it, nails biting skin, drawing blood. Her face surged—black hair, a smile like lost warmth, a voice pleading, "Promise you'll come back…"

His jaw clenched, a growl stifling grief.

"I failed you…" he hissed, voice low, venomous.

Regret burned, sharp as a blade, but his eyes stayed hard, unyielding.

"Another chance…" he whispered.

"I'd find you…"

"I'd break the world for you…"

His chest heaved once.

Then stilled.

No breath. No words.

Silence.

The world would damn Zairen as a monster. A villain.

But in death, he hissed her name.

A regret sharper than steel.

Beyond the mortal realm, where gods turned blind—

The necklace pulsed.

Stars dimmed, as if cursed.