Villain Throne:I Build An Empire On Bones

Zairen's laughter, sharp and twisted, echoed through the blood-drenched hall. His words hung like poison. The soldiers shifted, armor clinking, one stepping forward, voice trembling.

"My Lord… this boy's lost his mind."

Lord Virel, Zairen's uncle, narrowed his eyes to slits. "Stand him up," he snapped, voice a whip-crack.

Rough hands yanked Zairen to his feet. His bloodied body barely wavered, crimson eyes burning with wicked defiance, a fire no blow could douse.

Virel stepped closer, lips twisting into a cruel smirk. "What was that, boy? Say it again."

Zairen tilted his head, wiping blood from his mouth with a trembling hand. "Hmm… let's see… 'Let's begin the punishment.'" His grin revealed blood-smeared teeth, glinting with malice.

Virel's chuckle was icy. "Then let's."

Mana flared in his fist, a glowing storm, slamming into Zairen's stomach. The force hurled him back, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud. Blood sprayed from his mouth, crimson staining the floor, stench of blood and sweat choking the air.

"Say it again!" Virel roared.

Zairen spat blood, his broken-toothed grin unyielding. "I said… let's begin."

Virel snapped. He stormed forward, unleashing a brutal flurry of kicks—ribs splintering, legs buckling, face splitting. Blood pooled beneath Zairen, crimson seeping into cracks. His body twisted, a marionette of pain.

Finally, Zairen collapsed, arms twisted, legs shaking, eyes half-shut in agony's haze.

"Enjoying your punishment now, boy?" Virel sneered, wiping blood from his hand onto his silk cloak.

He sank onto his throne with a huff. Zairen lay convulsing in a scarlet pool, iron stench thick.

"You're alive only because of your sister," Virel said. "Without her, I'd feed you to the forest beasts."

He waved at the guards. "Pick him up."

The soldiers hesitated, trembling, then lifted Zairen's mangled form.

"Like your punishment now?" Virel mocked.

Zairen stayed still, blood caking his face, dripping like a slow, red river.

Virel sighed, feigning disappointment. "I gave you food, shelter, a family. And this is your gratitude?"

Zairen raised his battered head. Her smile haunted me, his pleas echoed—my dad, a Third Circle mage, begging for us. His eyes were dying embers, chest burning, nails drawing blood. "You gave me rot. You leeched off my father's legacy like a bloated tick. I remember you groveling at his gates like a dog. Without his death, you'd choke on pig slop in some piss-soaked village."

Virel's face twisted with rage. "You wretch! Think you're something? You haven't awakened your mana circle. Your sister did at nine. You? Beneath pity."

His laughter was venomous. "You're a cockroach—useless, disgusting. Even cockroaches have purpose. You're a plague."

Zairen's glare burned. "And you're a fat pig, gorging on others because you can't grow anything of your own."

A guard snorted, quickly stifling it. Virel's face blazed red.

"Silence!" he bellowed. Then, to Zairen: "Where are your parents now? Slaughtered like livestock. And you survived."

My chest burned, her dying smile cutting me. "Don't… don't speak of them."

Zairen lunged, desperate to claw, to kill—but his body was shattered, powerless.

"Throw him in the cells," Virel spat. "Let him rot until he learns silence."

Blood's taste clung as they dragged him down icy stone steps, hurling him into the dark. He hit the floor with a crack, bones grating, crimson seeping from his nose, ears, mouth.

Rats skittered. Chains clinked. The air reeked of mildew and old blood.

Zairen barely stirred. "My bones… they're broken," he whispered.

He slumped against the damp wall, trembling.

"Control your anger, Zairen," he murmured. "You're not strong enough yet… just a broken child."

His heart ached—not from pain, but rage.

He saw them again—masked faces, shrieks, slaughter. Her blood's warmth fueled my oath.

"I'll erase your bloodlines. All of them. Your children, your gods, your legacies."

He closed his eyes.

"Twenty years… the world will bleed again. And I'll wield the blade."

In the darkness, he smiled through broken teeth.

"Let this hellhole be my cradle. I'll rise from this pit, a demon reborn."

And with that, he sank into a cold, broken sleep, his heart ablaze with vengeance.