Villain Throne:I Build An Empire On Bones

The battlefield was a slaughterhouse of blood and ash. Flames roared, smoke choked the air, the stench of burned flesh, spilled guts, and spent mana burning the lungs. Broken wood and skulls rattled in the heat. The war raged under a shadowed moon, the ground shaking with every spell and scream.

Varek's longsword, buzzing with lightning mana, clashed against the chieftain's dark-mana axe, sparks flying. Their duel ripped the earth apart, each strike a vow of death.

Zairen and Edna had just cut down the red-haired two-star magi, her body split by Zairen's Heaven's Severance, cooling in the mud, eyes dead. Of the six bandit two-star magi, four were gone—two burned to ash, one pierced by ice spears, blood frozen, and the red-haired woman. The machinery group was bleeding bad. Of their five two-star magi, three were dead—two crushed by a boulder, ribs shattered; the other with her throat slit, blood pooling. Xyzon, the old man, was barely holding on, his left arm mangled, mana fading. Lirien, the fifth magi, fought one of the remaining bandit magi, her mana weak, body breaking. Xyzon, despite his wounds, raised crumbling stone walls against the other bandit magi, frost creeping up his legs as the enemy's ice daggers chipped away.

The remaining bandit magi were monsters. Zairen and Edna targeted one—a massive giant, all muscle, veins bulging. His bald head shone, black eyes gleaming with sick joy. His huge double-headed axe glowed red with fire mana. The other, a lean man with a shaved head and a twisted smirk, fought Lirien, his ice daggers flashing. Xyzon held him off with shaky earth barriers, buying time.

The giant roared, his axe smashing the ground, fire mana bursting out, cracking the earth. Zairen and Edna dodged, heat burning their skin, rocks flying. Zairen's sword, carved with runes, glowed with wind mana, slicing the giant's leg, but it barely bled—his skin was like steel. The giant grinned, swinging again, eyes wild. Edna's water mana whip struck, but the giant's fire turned it to steam. Their one-star skills were no match for his two-star power.

The giant's next swing was a fiery wave. Zairen dodged, but Edna didn't. A rock shard from the blast ripped into her chest, blood spraying as she fell, screaming. Flames from the axe burned her arm, charring it black. She hit the ground, gasping, blood pooling, eyes fading. Zairen was alone, rage and fear tearing at his heart.

Lirien launched an ice spear, but the giant smashed her into a pile of wood, her body breaking with a sick crunch. Zairen saw her fall, his stomach twisting. "Ohh fuck, you had to die too, know," he muttered, voice raw. His mind raced—Let's hope this works—as he gripped his sword tighter.

The giant laughed, a nasty sound, and charged, axe trailing fire. Zairen ran, dodging through debris as the ground split. He saw the cracked earth from the giant's swings—a trap he could use. He grabbed a broken spear, its tip still sharp. "Hey, bald bastard!" he shouted. The giant turned, eyes locked, and charged, axe raised. Zairen sprinted toward a pile of jagged rocks, pretending to trip. The axe came down, fire bursting, but Zairen rolled away, the blast missing him.

He jumped up, spear ready. The giant, roaring, didn't see the uneven ground. Zairen darted behind a wrecked cart, baiting another swing. The axe hit the cart, wood flying, and the giant's foot caught in a molten crack. He stumbled, cursing. Zairen threw the spear with wind mana, hitting the giant's right eye. Blood and fluid sprayed, the giant screaming, clawing his face, half-blind.

Zairen moved fast, grabbing a rope tied to a stake in the debris. He looped it around the giant's ankle, dodging a wild swing. The giant, too mad to notice, kept charging. Zairen yanked the rope, and the giant crashed face-first, his axe sliding away. Zairen jumped on his back, sword glowing with wind mana. "Die!" he growled, stabbing the giant's neck. The blade stuck—his flesh was too tough. The giant thrashed, but Zairen held on, knees digging in. He pulled his mana pendant, a glowing blue crystal, and poured its power into his sword. The blade flared, and with a yell, Zairen cut through muscle and bone, blood spraying, soaking him red. The giant's head rolled, body crashing down.

Zairen staggered back, gasping, blood and ash stinging his eyes. He turned to Edna, lying in a pool of blood, chest torn, arm charred. He was the one she sworn to protect, but here he was, letting her slip away. Zairen looked at her, his eyes were cold, no pity, not one bit of guilt. Her eyes, full of pleading horror, rage, and pain, locked onto his. He had a mana potion—a blue vial—but he froze. Why save her? She was just a fighter he barely knew. Her gaze burned into him, but he stood still, doubt choking him. Her breath stopped, eyes dimming as she died.

Xyzon limped over, shoving a green Class D potion into Zairen's hand, his voice cracking with rage. "Give it to her!" Zairen sighed, pouring the liquid into Edna's mouth, but her eyes didn't open. He stared, muttering, "What a waste of a Class D potion." Xyzon collapsed beside Edna, trembling, tears falling. "Sorry, Edna, I couldn't save you," he sobbed, his voice breaking with grief. Zairen turned away,walked off without any guilt or remorse .

Xyzon had killed his opponent, the ice-dagger magi frozen in blood. Lirien was dead, her body broken. The battlefield was a graveyard. Varek's duel raged on, but he was winning. His lightning mana overwhelmed the chieftain, and with a final strike, he cut off both the chieftain's arms, blood spraying as the dark mana core in his chest shattered. The chieftain cast a hiding spell, his body fading as he fled into the shadows. Zairen moved to chase, but Varek stopped him. "Let him go. He's nothing now. Gather everyone—status report."

"Aye, Captain," Zairen said, his voice heavy with loss. The battle was won, but the cost was carved in blood and broken souls.

Meanwhile in the Draven mansion

The Draven mansion was a storm of chaos. Maids darted back and forth, clutching linens and trays, their footsteps clattering on marble floors. Dust swirled as they scrambled to prepare. Mara, the head maid, her voice sharp as a blade, shouted orders. "Hurry up! The room's a disgrace!" She zeroed in on Elina, a pale-faced, sharp-eyed maid fumbling with a curtain. "Elina, I told you to set this room right! I gave you one job, didn't I? This is a mess!"

Elina's hands shook, her voice small. "Madam Mara, I did it! I had the others help, it's done right!"

"Done right?" Mara snapped, her face flushed with anger. "You don't get it, do you? Elyra Kaelridge is coming—Seressia's best friend, like her sister. If Seressia sees we gave Elyra a shoddy room, we're finished! Elyra's the youngest prodigy, turned down a duke's son for marriage. She's a big deal, so everything better be perfect, understood?"

Elina nodded, sweat beading on her forehead, heart pounding. "Yes, madam! We'll fix it!" The maids rushed faster, fear pushing them.

Meanwhile, a grand carriage rolled into the viscount's fief, wheels rumbling on cobblestone. The town buzzed with life—shops lined the streets, their awnings bright with reds and blues, vendors shouting about fresh bread and trinkets, flowers blooming in neat rows. Laughter and chatter filled the air, the scent of roasted meat mingling with dust. In the distance, the Draven mansion loomed, its spires piercing the sky, windows glinting like fire in the sunlight, a majestic fortress of stone and pride.

The carriage slowed as it approached the mansion, its golden trim catching the light. A soldier knocked on the door. "Princess Elyra, we've arrived." Elyra lowered the window, nodded, and stepped out, boots clicking on the stone path. The mansion's heavy doors swung open, and she moved forward—then stumbled back with a thud, nearly falling. Warm arms caught her, pulling her into a tight hug. Elyra smiled, her hand gently brushing the head of the person holding her. "Seressia, how are you?"

Seressia pulled back, her smile bright but eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Elyra!" she said, voice cracking. "Two years, not one word! Do you know how much I worried? You didn't even think of me!"

Elyra's smile faltered, guilt twisting her heart. "My sister, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I was caught up in training. But I'm here now, Seressia. I'm not leaving again, I swear."

Seressia's eyes softened, her hand squeezing Elyra's. "You better not, sis. Promise?"

"Promise," Elyra said, her voice warm but heavy with the pain of their time apart.

Viscount Elravon Draven approached, laughing lightly. "If you two are done reuniting, how about dinner?"

Seressia nodded, smiling, and tugged Elyra's hand. "Come on, let's go!"

But Elyra stopped mid-step, her face darkening with worry. "Seressia… did Zairen make it back from the raid?"

The air froze, everyone's breath catching. Seressia's smile vanished, her eyes blazing with anger. "No, he didn't," she snapped. "I told him not to go, Elyra. I said you'd worry yourself sick, but he wouldn't listen. That stubborn fool!"

Elyra's chest tightened, guilt and fear choking her as she nodded, Zairen's absence a heavy stone in her heart.

Elravon raised a hand, his voice calm. "Wait, Elyra. I just got a message—the raid's over. Zairen's safe. They're heading back."

Elyra exhaled, relief washing over her like cool water, a shaky smile breaking through. "That's… good news," she said, voice trembling with hope. "Let's pray he's home soon."

Seressia sighed, her anger fading to exhaustion. "Stop worrying for now. He'll come back. Let's go inside."

Elyra nodded, her heart still heavy but lifted by hope. She gripped Seressia's hand, and they stepped into the mansion together, the shadow of the battlefield lingering but their reunion a flicker of light in the dark.