A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

“Ah, the ravages of war…”

The empress, perched upon her throne, gazed upon the spectacle of two iron torrents clashing on the screen, chuckling softly, “On a battlefield where transcendence reign supreme, mere mortals are compelled to charge to the forefront with their paltry strength, engaging in desperate combat… My daughter, I now begin to comprehend your childish predilection.”

Her fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, “If this drama were solely a clash between the extraordinary, a mere exchange of spells and incantations, it would indeed be dreadfully dull.”

“Only when all beings are cast into this colossal crucible…”

The madness twinkling in the aged empress’s eyes was chilling, “Can a masterpiece be forged… one that satisfies me!”

The courtiers remained silent, their thoughts no longer on the war at hand.

Undoubtedly, Ephesande’s behavior signified her life’s twilight; she could no longer control herself, nor resist the chaos that devoured and tainted her soul. The curse of power was close to claiming her completely, and her current appearance… might well be her final frenzy.

On one hand, it was imperative not to provoke Her Majesty in the slightest; on the other… it was time to curry favor with the Elder Princess.

Those who based their stance towards the Elder Princess on the outcome of this war were fools; everyone knew that the tyrannical and capricious empress was bound to triumph — they already possessed ample information on the Black Knight, which the Etheric Academy had generously released, a display not just of confidence, but of power.

Although the Black Knight differed from a typical fifth-stage being, being almost useless outside of combat and unable to match the majority of genuine, flexible-minded, and experienced fifth-tier extraordinaries, but, power is power. Despite its flaws, this iron behemoth’s sheer output still met the standard of “mastering a certain essence” worthy of a crown.

Perhaps the Etheric Academy too sensed something amiss with the empress, hence their ostentatious promotion of this remarkable achievement.

Despite the Black Knight’s strength being a result of the empress’s indiscriminate resource allocation, anyone with a modicum of alchemical knowledge would be astounded by the weapon’s… revolutionary design concept.

Firstly, to wield extraordinary power, one must possess the requisite aptitude, which is typically innate but not necessarily unattainable through later modification.

The essence of alchemical devices is to endow ordinary materials and objects with the capacity for extraordinariness through etheric circuits. By designing and constructing these circuits and experimenting with various essences, they elevate them to the realm of the extraordinary.

The complexity and intricacy of the construction alone of these mechanical armors are enough to deter countless mediocrities from the genius realm of alchemy, not to mention the terrifyingly intricate etheric circuits that only true monstrosities could conceive.

No one knows how Duke Luminaris managed to create such a device; a fifth-stage being crowned through the element of light, where did such alchemical talent come from?

The power of the Black Knight is evident; a fifth-stage combatant on a battlefield where the highest strength barely exceeds the fourth is nothing short of a massacre.

And that is precisely why this iron monstrosity has not yet entered the fray.

*

Ravenna, levitated high above by Hendrik’s flying spell, surveyed the battlefield below with a cool detachment.

“The Black Knight has yet to make an entrance? Ha, the opposition is indeed trying their best to perform.”

The war between two great territories was unfolding like a play, where the high-stage extraordinaries had yet to take the lead, instead allowing the seemingly well-armed and formidable mortals and ordinary first/second-stage extraordinaries to launch their legion assaults and engage in slaughter.

The furious roars and piercing screams echoed to the heavens, while blood spurted and limbs scattered. From above, the vast plain was stained with a deep crimson spreading from the center of the conflict, seeping into the earth.

Wherever the tyrannical empress cast her gaze from a corner of the empire, that land bore an indelible scarlet wound.

Even Hendrik could faintly detect the pervasive scent of blood.

Yet Ravenna merely looked down indifferently at the broken blades, shattered armor, and corpses below, as if all were merely a natural part of the world. The death and despair that permeated the land seemed nothing more than the ordinary course of things.

As inevitable as the rising and setting of the sun, what war could occur without casualties? What was there to be moved by?

She knew this war began because of her, and for that reason, she found any pity or remorse to be utterly ludicrous and meaningless pretense.

Thus, she was indeed not hypocritical, but rather, had become almost inhumanly cold and still.

“The first phase is nearing its end,” Ravenna murmured, “When the mortal legions have suffered grievous losses, the extraordinaries will take over the war.”

Soon enough, the battle unfolded just as she had predicted, shifting in another direction.

“Is it time for the extraordinaries to enter the fray?”

The empress, growing weary of the mortal skirmish, brightened, “Do not disappoint me.”

On the screen, the Spirity Lake territory established a sorcerer’s position, and with the raising of the etheric domain, sorcerers began to channel ether, bestowing various enhancement spells on the extraordinaries about to charge into battle, while those whose power leaned towards destruction commenced chanting high-level spells of great lethality.

Though large-scale battles were rare, this simple coordination posed no issue.

“Gentlemen!”

Count of Spirity Lake, Ferdinand, proclaimed from the front lines, “Victory in this war will allow us to relocate our territory to the equally fertile lands of Watson! We shall reclaim our future!”

The impact of the Duke of Arboro’s experiment on Spirity Lake was far greater than his verbal assurances suggested. The etheric ley lines had a critical influence on the ecological energy and the extraordinary environment of a region. Ferdinand was well aware that without addressing this pollution, the grand duke’s so-called “aid” was but a drop in the bucket.

And now, Ansel had presented him with an excellent opportunity.

One… he could not afford to miss, yet fraught with immense risk.

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