Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 295: Flutters in Battle

The sky cracked with a low, ominous rumble, and the air was thick with the hiss of malevolent wings. Ten demons, their forms shifting between shadow and smoke, circled around the high ceilings like vultures scenting blood. Their eyes burned golden, mouths twisted in cruel anticipation.

But Vyan's eyes were on Jade—

Until the sight was blocked. By silky platinum hair flying in his vision. By the back of a woman who looked every bit of the valiant soldier that she was in her heart, even in her insanely gorgeous gown.

Iyana planted herself squarely in front of Vyan, her back to him, shoulders squared. Her sword gleamed in its blue light, its edge catching the flicker of demonic fire above.

"Let me take care of these ugly things." With a single hand, she smoothly tied her hair in a messy yet steady bun as he watched, mesmerized, the scent of her hair wash inhibiting his senses.

For a moment, Vyan just stared, at a loss of words.

In the middle of what could only be described as a hellish ambush, with a host of demons itching to rip them limb from limb, his heart... fluttered.

Because there she was—shorter than him despite her five-inches heel, in a cumbersome, traditional feminine attire, with a bun she put on only with a sword in her hand. Fierce and unyielding. A one-woman army standing between him and his weakness.

Her stance was resolute, chin high, sword pointed to the heavens like she was ready to carve the sky open.

He couldn't even see her face, but he knew—oh, he knew—her expression must've been the kind that made lesser creatures piss themselves. That look that said, "You'll have to crawl over my dead body to even breathe near him."

Vyan felt... touched. Inconveniently so.

What is this? Gah, stop it. You're supposed to play the role of a cool, enigmatic villain today, not a wide-eyed, lovestruck idiot. You've your entire life to be an idiot.

He straightened his spine, rolled his shoulders, and summoned the most reassuring voice he could muster.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he let out, "Don't worry, my lady. I got this. It will only take me five minutes."

Iyana didn't flinch. She just tilted her head slightly, enough that he could catch the gleam of her eye from the corner.

"No," she said, calmly. "It's still dangerous. Let me handle them."

Vyan huffed, affronted. He had already told her that he would be okay with dark magic and explained to her, but she had just hummed half-heartedly. Maybe she had been meaning to pull this stunt from the beginning.

"Iyana, trust me, there's no need for you to dirty your precious hands with these... flying disappointments." While he did feel happy with her intentions to protect him, still, he was the man. How could he let his to-be wife be near anything that wasn't beautiful? It was his job to treat her like a queen. She shouldn't have to deal with such pesky creatures.

Overhead, a demon snarled.

Apparently, being called a 'flying disappointment' offended it.

One of them lunged, its jagged mouth stretched wide, screeching in rage as it dove toward Vyan from behind.

"Behind you—!" Iyana shouted, turning sharply at her instinct, alarm in her voice.

But Vyan didn't even glance back.

Still staring at her—only her—he reached a hand behind him with the casualness of someone brushing dust off his suit and grabbed the lunging demon mid-air by the face.

The creature gagged mid-screech, its claws flailing in the air.

Vyan smiled at Iyana. Soft. Smug. So very pleased with himself.

"I told you," he said, "I got this."

The demon squirmed in his grip, letting out a wet, angry gurgle, and promptly drooled a glob of something mushy and sticky onto Vyan's palm.

His smile froze.

He glanced at his hand, glanced at the demon, then back at his hand. Something green-ish covered his skin—over his favorite rings, all of them stolen from his father's collection.

"Ew," he reacted. "Perish."

The demon's eyes bulged as Vyan retreated his hand, leaving the destructive power from his touch in its wake.

And then—poof.

Ash and silence.

Vyan stood there, a disgusted twist on his face, holding his palm up like it had contracted a contagious disease. Which it probably did.

With a flick of his fingers, he conjured a pristine white handkerchief and delicately wiped his hand, muttering under his breath about "demonic bodily fluids" and "where is the dignity these days?"

Iyana didn't say anything. Probably thinking about how she didn't want to be touched by Vyan's right hand for a few days.

He could feel the tiniest shake of her shoulders—just a twitch, as if she were holding in a laugh.

And somehow, despite everything, he smiled wider.

Vyan flicked the last remains of demon dust from his fingers with a sigh that could only be described as elegantly annoyed.

"My lady," he said, glancing at Iyana as if they were discussing afternoon tea and not standing in the middle of a supernatural battlefield, "why don't you handle that guy over there?"

He pointed lazily at the chaos to their left, where Wyatt was soundlessly carving through imperial knights like they were paper dolls. Blood streaked his blade, his expression unchanging—cold and terrifyingly efficient.

The moment Iyana had stepped in front of Vyan, Wyatt had taken it as his cue to break free, moving with the speed of someone who'd been waiting for this opening.

Iyana followed Vyan's finger, groaned, and muttered, "Dear goddess, I didn't think he'd be such a big nuisance. I swear, his loyalty to Emperor Edgar is almost... admirable."

"No joke," Vyan said solemnly, nodding. "But seriously. You handle him. He's strong—someone only you can handle. I told Raith to guard Tia and Ash."

She sighed again, twirled her sword once in her grip, with an annoyed expression on her face that said she didn't want to leave Vyan's side. "All right," she said begrudgingly. "Try not to die while I'm gone."

"Promise," Vyan replied with a smile—a blank, practiced, sweet empty-nothing.

And then, she vanished, a blur of movement so fast the air trembled in her wake.

One heartbeat, Wyatt was raising his sword to finish off another knight; the next, Iyana stood before him, blocking his blade with a clang that echoed like thunder.

She stared him down. "It's actually astonishing," she said, her tone like ice wrapped in fire, "how blind one person can be. How do you still not see that the man you work for is not just evil, but completely powerless and embarrassingly useless?"

Wyatt didn't answer. Because, of course, words were beneath him. Pfft.

Instead, he flared his Aura—sickly gold, like sunlight soured and corrupted. It poured out of him in waves, rattling the bones of the injured knights nearby.

Iyana raised a brow.

"Hah," she scoffed, amused. "So that's how you want to play?"

Her own Aura exploded to life, silver and blue, wild and burning like moonfire. The marble floor cracked beneath their feet.

"Fine by me."