Ascension Of The Villain

The heat of Preaton was relentless, a far cry from the cool, shadowed woods of Ashstone, wrapped in the dense mystery of the Forest of Beasts.

The sun blazed down on Vyan and Clyde as they wound through the bustling streets, their strides sluggish under the intensity of the midday warmth. Vyan, who was in the appearance of a common-looking man, found himself unbottoning the top buttons of his shirt, which now clung to him like a second, unwelcome layer.

Clyde, fanning himself with exaggerated motions, cast a half-hearted glare toward Vyan. "I have to hand it to you, my lord, picking Preaton for a field trip? Genius idea. Why not choose somewhere with a roasting pit and get it over with?"

Vyan snorted, wiping his forehead. "It's called 'commitment to a cause,' Clyde. Though I admit, I didn't expect to find us in the heart of a desert masquerading as a city."

He glanced around, but the narrow streets offered little shade, just waves of heat rising from the cobblestones and the distant clamor of market stalls, alive with vendors hawking colorful wares.

"If we keep at this, we will be fried by sundown," he muttered under his breath.

Clyde let out a dramatic sigh. "Remind me again why we are here? Searching for some mythical healer with no name, no address, and, apparently, no existence?"

"Iyana mentioned an acupuncturist," Vyan replied. "She is the one who found out about him from one of her subordinates, remember? She said he was 'famous' or something."

"Yes, famous," Clyde echoed, rolling his eyes, "but apparently so famous no one here has a clue who he is."

They had already approached countless townsfolk with the same query: an acupuncturist skilled in the ancient arts of the mind, one rumored to possess an uncanny ability to heal the fractured minds. And each time, they received only shrugs or blank stares, the name itself as elusive as smoke in the sun-soaked air.

"Are we sure Lady Iyana didn't just make this person up to get rid of you for a few days?" Clyde added with a smirk. "I wouldn't put it past her, considering how overbearing you can get sometimes."

Vyan stifled a grin. "She is a lot of things, but I doubt she would be that sadistic. At least, not regarding my brother."

They continued down a winding alley, dodging street performers and food vendors while trying to keep their cool. Vyan scanned the faces around them, hoping for a glimmer of recognition at the mention of an acupuncturist, but to no avail.

After another hour, Clyde came to an abrupt halt, leaning against a building and dramatically clutching his chest. "I think I am going to dissolve right here, my lord. Just… melt into the cobblestones. Tell Athy I was a martyr to the cause of my boss."

"Oh, please," Vyan scoffed, though he felt a pang of sympathy. "I will make sure your epitaph reads, 'Here lies Clyde Jayce Magnus, who used to annoy the shit out of his boss on a daily basis.'"

They shared a chuckle before Vyan's gaze turned serious. He looked down the endless street of Preaton, the energy sapped from its usually vibrant streets by the heatwave.

This was for Aster. For his brother. And somehow, amid the sweat and exasperation, he felt the pulse of that purpose steadying him.

"Come on, Clyde. We are not leaving until we find this so-called miracle worker. If we have to ransack every corner of Preaton to track this person down, then that's exactly what we will do." With that determination, he began walking again.

Clyde groaned but followed, his steps dragging. "Fine, lead the way, oh fearless one. But if we end up in an actual roasting pit next, you are on your own."

Alongside a healthy dose of stubborn banter, they continued, clinging to the faint hope that somewhere in Preaton's sprawling maze, the acupuncturist was waiting to be found.

As they trudged forward, Vyan suddenly felt Clyde go rigid beside him.

"Uh, Vyan," Clyde said, his eyes flickering to a spot across the street.

Vyan followed Clyde's gaze and immediately felt a familiar surge of anger tighten in his chest.

There, gliding through the crowded thoroughfare as if the world itself was bending to his presence, was Eryndor—the Duke of Preaton. The man who had made his family's life hell while they were alive and was not by their side even in their final moments.

Clyde made a quick, nervous gesture, trying to steer him into a side street, but Vyan held his ground, his jaw clenching. "Are you out of your mind, Clyde?" he muttered, voice dripping with barely contained venom. "Do you really think I am going to let him pass by without at least one good glare?" Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire

"Oh, I absolutely believe that you would," Clyde replied, exasperated. "But let's save the righteous fury for another day, hmm? Good thing your metamorphosis is already active. So, how about we just skip the family reunion and just blend in?" He leaned closer, dropping his voice further.

Vyan groaned but knew Clyde had a point. He couldn't risk Eryndor marking him; it would be more than a mere headache to deal with if his grandfather decided to ruin their mission. "Fine," he bit out.

They edged closer to the side, attempting to blend in with the respectful crowd parting for Eryndor's passage. As the duke approached, a wave of murmurs spread through the street, and Vyan felt the shift in the atmosphere—the hush, the subtle, reverent bows.

Even the oppressive heat seemed to simmer in deference. Reluctantly, Vyan inclined his head as well, hoping to not stick out.

Yet, as Eryndor neared, he halted. Vyan stiffened, sensing his grandfather's gaze on him. His heart pounded, but his face remained impassive, save for the glint of loathing that sparkled in his dulled eyes.

"Raise your head," Eryndor commanded.

With a slow motion, Vyan did as he was told, meeting Eryndor's gaze with the cool intensity of ice meeting fire. His eyes were devoid of warmth, the look in them brimming with an utter lack of respect, a daring challenge etched into every unspoken word.

A faint, unnatural chuckle slipped from Eryndor's lips, as though the very idea of laughter was foreign to him. "Curious," he murmured, a faint hint of amusement breaking through his stern facade. "For some reason, you remind me of my grandson."

The words twisted inside Vyan, and for a brief, raw moment, his fists clenched at his sides, barely resisting the urge to spit out a scathing reply. "Which one?" He was most likely talking about Ronan—the only one he considered his grandson.

"The middle one," he answered without hesitation. "He is the one who has this stubborn, unyielding look in his eyes, like you do."

"Is that so?" Vyan replied coolly, the calm in his voice masking the storm roiling beneath his calm exterior.

Eryndor's gaze lingered a second longer, his mouth curving into a faint, knowing smile. He continued on his way, leaving Vyan in his wake.

Only when Eryndor was far down the street did Vyan release a slow, trembling breath. His fists unclenched as he flexed his fingers, as though to shake away the lingering disdain he felt.

Clyde let out a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. "You didn't explode," he murmured, though there was genuine relief in his tone. "Honestly, I thought you might set him on fire right there."

Vyan's lips twitched, the trace of a bitter smile pulling at his mouth. "Believe me, I thought about it."

Clyde let out a low whistle, clapping Vyan on the shoulder with a wry grin. "Restraint looks good on you, my lord. I almost didn't recognize you."

Vyan scoffed, shrugging off Clyde's hand. "Don't get used to it. Next time, it might not be an illusion hiding my face."

"Well, then, let's hope we don't have to see him again."

Unfortunately, Clyde's hope didn't come true.

As they finally found some news on the acupuncturist, they also learned that he didn't interact with unknown people.

"Master Jin has gotten old. These days, he is very selective about the people he meets. Unless someone close to him vouches for them, he never meets them," said the vendor.

"So, are you close to him? Can you vouch for us?" Clyde asked, flashing him a charming smile.

The vendor rolled his eyes. "First of all, does it look like someone like me can be friends with someone of that caliber? Secondly, why would I vouch for you? Do I know you or what?"

Vyan huffed and shoved Clyde to the side. "Then, how about you tell us about someone who is actually close to Master Jin?"

"Huh, how would I know about every contact that caveman has?" the vendor scoffed. "So, unless you are related to Duke Preaton, start heading back to your home because you will just be wasting time with him."

Vyan's eyes widened. "Are you saying that the duke is… close to Master Jin?"

"Of course! They have known each other for decades," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Clyde glanced at Vyan nervously and asked, already knowing what it meant, "What are you going to do about it?"