Villain Throne:I Build An Empire On Bones

The forest stood silent, a graveyard waiting for blood.

Blood seeped from my shoulder, my hand pressed tight against the wound. Gaverik grinned—a twisted, mad smirk, jagged as broken glass.

"Tricks, huh, boy? Mana coating, silent step, wind propulsion. Someone carved you sharp."

I didn't answer. Sank low, blade angled like a wolf's fang, hungry to bite.

I lunged, sword flashing. Gaverik sidestepped, his grin sharp as a blade. I attacked again, relentless—slash after slash. He twisted away, mocking me with every move. My blade aimed for his shoulder, but he slipped past. I twisted the sword mid-swing, aiming for his face.

He jerked back, too slow. The blade grazed his cheek, splitting skin. Blood trickled, a thin red line.

Gaverik stumbled, then roared, casting a wind spell. A gust slammed me, sending me crashing to the dirt. I rolled, springing back to my feet.

"You little shit," he snarled, voice thick with rage, touching his bloodied face. "You scarred my pretty face!"

I smirked. "Pretty? More like a shitty face, you fucker."

Pain burned my shoulder, but rage burned hotter. He screamed, magic exploding. Spell after spell—fireballs, water blasts, each Class D, raw and deadly. I dodged, weaving through the onslaught, heart pounding, barely alive.

This fucker's a 2-star magus? I thought, ducking another blast. He's tougher than I expected.

He was a 2-star magus. By all rights, he should've crushed me. But he didn't know my truth.I am the master of all arts in my previous life even though i don't have that much mana or class know but i have technique

His eyes burned, wild. "What are you smiling about, fucker?"

I grinned, blood dripping. "I'm laughing at your coming death."

He laughed, mocking. "You? Barely awakened, and you think you can fight me? You little shit!"

His next spell came fast—Fire Arc, a blazing crescent tearing the air.

I slid beneath it, heat singeing my hair.

"Too slow," I muttered, closing the gap.

My blade danced , slicing clean, no resistance. It carved his thigh, blood spraying as his stance faltered.

"You—!" he growled, stumbling.

He raised his hand, whispered, and the earth rumbled. Bind Earth, Class-F spell. Roots surged, clawing for my legs like hungry snakes.

I countered with Mana Step, a burst of energy at my feet, flipping me back.

He smirked, thinking he had me trapped, his hands weaving the next spell. Frost Shards—jagged ice spikes—flew at me, sloppy from his rage.

One grazed my cheek. Blood welled, warm.

I touched it. Smiled.

He charged, hands glowing. Magic swelled, heavy, suffocating. Class-C spell. Inferno Spiral.

Mana swirled at his core, forming a red sigil, his eyes glowing like embers.

No time to counter.

I slammed my palms to the ground. Mana Shield, powered by my mana pendant, flared around me.

The spiral erupted—a firestorm, a screaming tornado of flame. The forest wailed, trees charring black.

My shield shattered.

The flames hit like a god's wrath. My skin burned, armor cracked, legs buckled.

I collapsed, gasping, the world spinning.

Gaverik stalked forward, smug. "Done," he spat, drawing a curved knife. "I'll carve you slow. A body like yours… such a waste."

He leaned closer, eyes glinting with sick hunger.

I clawed the dirt, fingers sinking deep.

"Done talking?" I rasped.

He laughed. "Any Last words Pretty boy"

I flung dirt into his eyes.

He screamed, staggered, knife slipping.

I grabbed it, poured my last mana into the blade, and drove it upward—into his groin.

A wet crunch. His scream split the air. Blood gushed between his legs as he clawed at himself.

I stood, shaking, soaked in his blood, but alive.

"Didn't I say?" I whispered, leaning close. "I'd cut off your pathetic dick."

He writhed, gurgled, passed out.

I wasn't done.

I raised the knife, mana crackling along its edge. Sliced—slow, deliberate—across his throat.

Skin parted like wet cloth. Blood sprayed in ribbons, his mouth gasping for mercy that wouldn't come.

His head didn't fall clean. I sawed through, flesh and tendon.blood spraying, until it tore free, rolling into the mud, tongue out, eyes frozen in terror.

I stared at his severed head, blood pooling. "I warned you," I muttered, voice dark with frustration. "Mess with me, you die. Nobody listens." I smirked. "I'm no hero. Hope you learned your lesson, you bastard."

I stood, trembling, not from fear—but from something older, deeper. A dark, hungry satisfaction.

I wiped my blade, searched the Gaverik's corpse. Two Class F healing potions, a pouch with silver and two gold coins.then my eyes move to the bandit chieftain mutilated body and i searched his body and found

A Class E storage ring.

Class E magic scrolls.

Mana recovery potions, a handful.

Twenty gold coins.

A dagger—Fire-etched, Class D. The traitor's own weapon.

I slid it into my cloak.Luck? Fate? Didn't care.

I turned. Captain Varek stood at the treeline.

No shock. No judgment. Just… understanding.

"Take what you need, boy," he said.

I met his gaze.

"I won't touch your loot. Won't speak of this. We had a traitor. Now we don't."

A pause. "I always suspected someone was leaking our routes. Now I know."

I nodded.

"Let's go," he said.

He walked to Gaverik's headless corpse, muttered a fire incantation. Flames devoured it, leaving ash.

Back at camp, tension choked the air. The others gathered, eyes sharp.

Varek climbed onto a crate, voice like steel. "We had a traitor. One of us. He's been found. Dealt with."

His gaze flicked to me.

"Zairen uncovered him."

A beat.

"Praise him. Or don't. He doesn't need it. But know this—no more snakes among us."

Murmurs spread. Some cheered. Some nodded. A few stared at me, seeing something new.

I didn't care for their eyes.

I went to my tent. Slept.

The battle was done.

But the war inside? It burned hotter than ever.

Meanwhile, at Draven Mansion…

Elyra stared out her window, lost in thought, her eyes distant, mind tangled in shadows. A memory flashed—Zairen's small, tear-streaked face—and her chest tightened.

Knock knock.

She didn't hear.

Knock knock.

"Elyra!" a voice called.

She snapped out of it, blinking. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Seressia. Can I come in?"

"Yes," Elyra said, voice flat.

Seressia burst in, all smiles. "What're you doing, Elyra?"

"Nothing. Just… sitting."

Seressia frowned, studying her. "Lost in Zairen's shadow again, huh?"

Elyra hesitated, stumbling over her words. "Yeah…"

Seressia's smile vanished, replaced by anger. "Why do you care about him? That ungrateful boy! Because of him—because of him—your parents…" She trailed off, voice shaking.

Elyra's eyes flashed. "Stop it, Seressia!" she shouted. "Zairen was just a kid back then. He didn't know. Drop it."

Seressia froze, eyes softening, emotional. "Okay," she said quietly, sitting down. "I'm sorry, Elyra. I didn't mean…"

Elyra sighed, voice gentler. "It's fine. Just… don't be sad. Let's go out, have some fun."

Seressia grinned, mischief sparking. "Wait, change your clothes first."

Elyra raised an eyebrow. "Out there. Go."

Seressia laughed, making a playful gesture at Elyra's chest. "Oh, come on, change here! I wanna see how big those have gotten!"

Elyra smirked, swatting at her. "You little devil! Get out, or I'll beat you silly!"

"Okay, okay!" Seressia giggled, heading for the door. She paused, turning back. "Elyra, one thing… Did you really tell Zairen on his seventh birthday to never show his face again? That he'd should die in his room?"

Elyra's breath caught. Her chest tightened, eyes wide. She gasped, struggling to breathe. "I… I don't know," she whispered, voice breaking. "I don't know what I said!" She shouted, frantic, "I don't know! I don't know!"

Seressia rushed to her, grabbing her shoulders. "Okay, okay, let's drop it. We'll talk later, alright?"

Elyra nodded, still trembling, staring out the window, lost again in the dark.