Ascension Of The Villain

The night enveloped the meadow in a blanket of darkness, broken only by the silvery light of the moon and the flicker of torches held by the small audience.

Right about this time, most of the nobles were engaged in a post-dinner feast after spending the entire day in the forest. An anticipatory silence replaced the distant cheers of the revelers. This clearing was a place for a different kind of celebration—one that would be marked by the clash of steel between generations.

Vyan stood with his sword poised, his stance relaxed yet alert, eyes locked on Eryndor. The old man mirrored his grandson, a lifetime of battles etched into the lines of his stern face. Despite his age, Eryndor's grip was steady, his eyes as sharp as his blade.

"Last chance to back down, Your Grace," Vyan called out, a smirk playing on his lips. "I wouldn't want you pulling a muscle. Or worse, your pride."

Eryndor's response was a low growl, his lips curling into a disdainful sneer. "So much arrogance for a child with no exceptional skills to speak of."

Vyan laughed at that. It wasn't that he was actually arrogant; he was only putting on the act of one. He very well knew of the reputation that preceded his grandfather.

Eryndor was, after all, the man who had trained Vyan's mother, Natalia, the first woman to achieve Aura in Haynes' history. It went without saying that underestimating him would be absolutely foolish.

Nevertheless, Vyan was confident in his skills. He might not have had the fortune to learn how to wield a sword by the hands of his mother, but he was still trained by a great swordmaster.

The said swordmaster was, in fact, the judge of this duel. Theodore Jacques was someone even Eryndor could trust to be fair, considering he learned swordsmanship under the tutelage of the duke.

"Why don't you bring it on then? I will show what this child can do," Vyan provoked.

"If you have the courage, why don't you take the first step?" Eryndor retorted.

"As your wish, Grandfather," Vyan let out and lunged at him with his sword. As expected, Eryndor reacted just in time to defend himself.

The first clash of steel was a shockwave through the clearing.

Vyan moved with his usual flair, his strikes quick and unpredictable. But Eryndor countered each one effortlessly, his movements a testament to decades of experience.

The small audience watched in tense silence.

Clyde, leaning against a tree, looked as though he was already planning all the medicinal potions and herbs he was going to give to Vyan if he sustained any injuries. Celeste stood close by, her hands clasped tightly, worry etched into her features for both her father and nephew. Ronan was just as worried of a mess as her, if not more.

While Katelyn seemed more interested in the actual duel, her eyes glinting with excitement; she loved duels like this where she couldn't predict the result.

Unbeknownst to them, Iyana crouched behind a thick bush, her Aura masking her presence. Her gaze flickered between the two duelists, ready to intervene if things took a turn for the worse.

Vyan's initial strikes began to falter as Eryndor's relentless precision pushed him back into defense only.

Celeste watched, her heart in her throat, as her nephew started to struggle. She recalled the conversation she had with her father after Vyan informed her of the duel tonight.

"Father," she called the duke from behind, and he halted without turning around. "I heard you are dueling Vyan tonight."

"Yes, what about it? Did he go crying to you about it?" came Eryndor's indifferent reply.

"As if Vee would ever," Celeste let out. "All I want to know is, why? Why are you acting like this with him? You used to adore him—"

"Used to," he emphasized, his tone hard. "At that time, little did I know that his parents would end up betraying their own nation and bring so much disgrace—"

"I am telling you, they didn't. They were framed. Why don't you believe—" Her words died in her mouth as Eryndor shot her a death glare over his shoulder.

"Are you trying to slander the emperor again? Do you not have any loyalty for your husband?"

Celeste scoffed. "Loyalty for the person who killed my sister, brother-in-law, and oldest nephew? Over my dead body."

"See, this is the reason your words aren't believable. The person who has no loyalty for her own family isn't one to be trusted."

"Fine, don't trust me," she spat out. "Let's say his parents did betray this nation. But tell me, what was that five-year-old child's fault here? All Vee did was suffer all his life. He grew up without having anybody to love him. Doesn't he now deserve some humanity at the very least from his grandfather?"

"You ask what that child's fault is? The blood in his veins. That child has Natalia and Xandres's blood flowing through him. What makes you think he is any different from them?"

Celeste let out a bitter laugh. "That's some big talk coming from the person whose blood was flowing through Natalia."

His eyes narrowed as he said, "She was misguided by Xandres."

"Right, Xandres, the man you married my sister off to because of his good reputation back then," she pointed out, even though marrying the late Grand Duke did turn out to be the best decision of her sister's life.

Her uptight, strict, never-smiling and sword-loving sister was someone Celeste used to be scared of. Not to mention, they had an age gap of nineteen years. Natalia got married late at the age of twenty-four, so Celeste had the privilege of experiencing five years of terror from her.

But that terror melted away when she first saw Natalia with Grand Duke Ashstone.

The warm and soft glow on her face was what opened the doors for Celeste to finally gather the courage to befriend her older sister. After that, she mostly spent her time at the Ashstone manor; she absolutely adored little Aster, who was more like her younger brother than her nephew.

And then, finally, Vyan was born, who actually had the perfect age to be her adorable nephew. At that time, she officially started staying at the Ashstone Manor because her father was excruciating with the sword training. He always compared her to Natalia and praised how much better she was. And yet…

"All it did ever matter to you was reputation and prestige, after all," Celeste continued, "Natalia was your favorite as long as she was perfect. As soon as she fell from grace, you abandoned her. As if you forgot every pride ever brought to you."

At that, Eryndor remained quiet. Natalia really used to be Eryndor's biggest source of pride. She was the perfect daughter who followed everything he wanted. And the one time he was deluded into thinking that she strayed from that path, he abandoned her without a second glance.

"You know what, Father?" Celeste's voice strengthened. "Just like how you abandoned Natalia, I will do the same to you if you hurt Vee, which means you can most definitely forget about Ronan becoming your heir. I will make sure there will be nobody to continue your so-called almighty legacy."

"Celestia—" As he called out, Celeste no longer stopped to listen.

Celeste knew that Vyan would be mad if he learned of what she said to Eryndor, but she didn't care. He was like her own son, and a mother could never cease to worry about her child. There was no way she could afford to lose him once again. And she had no doubt that if push came to shove, his grandfather would not even hesitate to kill Vyan during the duel.

But as she saw Eryndor's strikes grow more aggressive, she realized that her warning had meant nothing to him. In fact, it might have rather had an adverse effect.

"Please be okay, Vee," she prayed, whispering under her breath.

Ronan, like the sweet child he was, wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulders. "He will make a comeback. Don't worry, Mother."

Celeste nodded, hope gleaming in her eyes.

However, contrary to Ronan's words, it was extremely hard for Vyan to make a comeback at that stage.

Being on the defense, Vyan was barely managing to block a series of rapid blows. A particularly forceful strike sent him stumbling back, his sword slipping slightly in his grip.

"Is this all you have got, child?" Eryndor taunted, his voice a low growl. "I expected more from Natalia's son."

Vyan's breath came in heavy pants, his confidence still not shaken. "Don't worry. I have just been warming up. This is far from over."

"Is that so?" Eryndor pressed his advantage, his strikes becoming a blur.

Vyan's defensive stance cracked under the pressure, a sharp cut appearing on his arm, the blood gleaming darkly in the moonlight.

Celeste gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "No, please…"