Villain Throne:I Build An Empire On Bones

The forest was dark, with sharp thorns scratching their skin. Zairen ran fast, his chest tight from breathing hard. His legs hurt after running for hours. Behind him, Helran and Merek tried to keep up. Helran, the leader, was tired too, but his eyes stayed sharp and alert. Merek, the other soldier, was scared and very tired. His condition was worse than Zairen's. They had escaped a wolf attack earlier, but they weren't safe yet.

Merek stopped, breathing heavily. "Why the fuck did the wolves come here?" he asked, his voice shaking. "How the fuck did they cross the river?"

Helran kept looking at the trees. "These aren't normal wolves," he said sharply. "They're from another race—lightning wolves. They're faster and more dangerous."

Merek's face turned white. "Lightning wolves? Oh God! We need to run! Now!"

Helran grabbed his arm. "Calm down. They're not after us yet. They went toward the shore."

Merek looked confused. "Why the shore?"

Zairen stepped closer, his voice cold and calm. "A boat landed there. It had nobles, soldiers, and common people. They must started fighting. Blood must been spilled everywhere. That's what's drawing the wolves."

Merek swallowed hard. "So… we're safe for now?"

"For now," Helran said. "But we can't stay here. Let's move."

Merek leaned in and whispered to Helran, "Why don't we kill the kid now? We could say he got lost in the monster attacked."

Helran glared at him. "Are you crazy? We can't kill the boy now. We need to save ourselves first, you idiot."

Merek backed away. "Sorry, boss. You're right."

Zairen heard everything. His heart beat faster, but he didn't show it. They wanted him dead, but they wouldn't do it yet.

Suddenly, a twig snapped nearby. Zairen froze. "Get up," he said. "Someone's coming."

Helran and Merek pulled out their swords. Zairen did the same. "Show yourself!" Helran shouted.

People came out of the shadows—men, women, a few kids, and some injured soldiers. They looked terrible, with torn clothes and blood on their faces.

"Who are you?" Merek asked loudly.

A man answered, his voice weak. "We're from the shore. We are survivors

Zairen stepped forward. "I'm Zairen Kaelridge, son of Baron Kaelridge."

The group whispered to each other. A noble? Here? Hearing this, the survivors got tense. Some of the soldiers among them pointed their weapons at Zairen, Helran, and Merek.

Helran half-pulled his sword out, his eyes narrow. Merek, panicking, muttered, "You fucker, I knew you came to kill us."

Everyone stared at each other, swords ready, the air heavy with tension.

Zairen raised his hands. "Calm down, everyone," he said smoothly. He turned to the survivors. "Don't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm a true noble. You've heard of my family, House Kaelridge, and our kindness, right?"

One of the survivors' soldiers nodded slowly. "Yeah… I've heard of them."

Zairen smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. "So don't worry. We're not your enemies."

The tension dropped. Swords went down.

And tell me "What happened at the shore?" Zairen asked, his voice calm and clear.

A woman stepped forward from the group of survivors they'd found. She was young, her face dirty and streaked with tears. Her clothes were ripped, and she held a small bundle tightly against her chest. Her hands shook as she spoke, and her eyes were full of fear.

"We were on a boat," she began, her voice soft and unsteady. "There were commoners like me, soldiers, and nobles. We sailed across the river, and when the boat reached the shore, everything went wrong. The nobles wanted to take the boat and leave us behind. They said it was for their own safety, that we'd slow them down."

She paused, swallowing hard as memories flooded back. "The commoners didn't agree. We didn't want to be abandoned to die. So we fought them. It turned into a battle—people yelling, hitting each other, using anything they could grab. I saw a soldier stab a noble with a sword. Blood was everywhere, spilling onto the sand, staining our hands."

Her voice cracked, and her eyes grew distant. "Then, in the middle of the fighting, we heard a howl. It was loud and awful, echoing through the air. That's when the wolves came. They were huge, their fur glowing with blue lightning. They attacked everyone—nobles, soldiers, commoners. It didn't matter who you were. They ripped people apart. I saw a man try to run, but a wolf caught him and dragged him down."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she sank to her knees, sobbing loudly. Her body shook as she clutched her bundle tighter. Another man from the group hurried over. He knelt beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her. "We don't know if anyone else survived," he said, his voice heavy with sadness. "We ran into the forest to escape. We barely made it out alive."

Zairen watched them, his face showing no emotion. Inside, his mind was working fast. These people were scared and weak, but they could still be useful. He stepped closer and spoke gently. "Don't worry," he said. "You can come with us. We're going to Viscount Draven's estate. You'll be safe there."

The woman looked up at him, her tears slowing. She wiped her face with a trembling hand. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice full of gratitude.

But Helran's mind was racing. He needed to kill Zairen before they reached Viscount Draven's lands. Now, with so many people around, he thought, "Shit, how am I supposed to do it now?"

Zairen knew what Helran was thinking. That's why he spoke up. These survivors weren't his friends—they were his protection. If the wolves attacked, they'd die first, giving him a chance to run.

An hour later, the forest thinned out. A dirt path appeared ahead. The survivors cheered, some hugging each other.

But in the shadows, something watched. Eyes glowed faintly, with blue sparks under dark fur. The lightning wolves were still there, waiting and hungry.

By morning, that path would be covered in blood.