A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

“Her progress is evident to both of us, isn’t it?” Ansel turned, smiling broadly.

“If you mean in more efficiently turning people into corpses or cripples,” Ravenna closed her book with a cold laugh, “then yes, I have indeed witnessed her ‘progress’ extensively.”

While Ansel and Marlina were off completing a commission, Ravenna and Seraphina set out together to liberate the slaves in the lower city. The process, to put it mildly, was excessively brutal—even from the perspective of a righteous individual.

Ravenna was indeed astounded by Seraphina’s growth in strength. It wasn’t merely an increase in raw power but an all-encompassing improvement—balance, control, and technique… No, Seraphina’s combat skills couldn’t be described as mere technique. They were more akin to an innate instinct and gift. Searᴄh the Nôvelƒire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

A talent so ludicrous and enviable that it could drive one to madness, a kind of “I just do what feels right, though I can’t explain why” ability.

“Give her a bit of positive feedback, dear Venna,” Ansel said with a helpless smile.

Ravenna lifted her eyes listlessly. “Feeling sorry for her?”

“If you and she argue frequently, it puts me in a difficult position.”

“This is the price you pay for toying with multiple women,” Miss scholar retorted with a snort. “Do you wish to monopolize all the good things?”

“Speaking purely of character,” Ansel mused, rubbing his chin, “whether it’s you or Seri, you both are a bit of—”

“A bit of what?” Ravenna nonchalantly raised her hand, and iron-gray particles quickly formed a pistol.

“From a general perspective, you both don’t quite fit the standard of a ‘good girl.'”

Bang!

A point of purple light appeared on Ansel’s forehead.

Ravenna put away the gun, jumped off the bed, and walked over to Ansel with a displeased look, standing on tiptoe to wipe his forehead.

“I’m not a good girl, isn’t that just unfortunate for you?” She poked Ansel’s waist forcefully…with what she thought was force.

“I said, that’s from a general perspective. From an outsider’s view, you and Seri—one is cold and aloof, devoid of any warmth; the other is irritable and always causing trouble. Clearly not… I said it’s from an outsider’s view.”

Ansel, whose cheek was pinched by the expressionless Ravenna, couldn’t suppress his laugh. “But to me, it’s not like that.”

“Then out with it.”

The cold and aloof Miss Ravenna urged Ansel to say something nice.

“To me, Ravenna is adorably —”

Ansel felt like explaining the word “tsundere” he learned from that world.

“Stop!”

Ravenna immediately covered Ansel’s mouth, her eyes wide with innocence. “That’s too gross. You are forbidden from saying that again.”

Saying this, Ravenna withdrew her hand, turned her head slightly, and tucked the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

“Actually, Seri loves listening to me speak this way.”

“She’s a fool. Am I?”

The adorably tsundere Ravenna remarked coldly as she headed outside. “Your secretary is now going to entertain your puppy. For the next few days, I’ll be accompanying you on missions. Show some gratitude, will you?”

Ansel matched her small strides, struggling to suppress his laughter. “May I ask why Miss Ravenna is choosing to accompany me?”

“I’m in a good mood.”

“And why are you in a good mood?”

“You’re so annoying.”

The petite and charming scholar turned her head, a delicate blush spreading across her face. “Do you really have to force me to say such nauseating things?”

Ansel finally couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“What’s so funny? You’re not sleeping with me tonight!”

“Aren’t you quite adept at saying such things yourself, my dear Venna?”

Ravenna always found herself defeated when faced with Ansel.

Yet, after each defeat, she would invariably reach out to hold Ansel’s hand, perhaps secretly relishing these moments of surrender.

Maybe, given their mutual understanding… she wasn’t always forced into these defeats.

*

Perched on Ansel’s shoulder, Ravenna frowned as she looked down at the bustling crowd. “So noisy.”

“Think of it as lively. Don’t always harbor negative views of the world, Venna.”

“…Since when did you become so cheerful?” Ravenna poked Ansel.

“Well…” Ansel tilted his head slightly, “since you started saying those nauseating things to me?”

“Stop playing around… never mind.”

Ravenna sighed in resignation, then propped her chin with her hand and asked, “What exactly is this selection tournament about?”

The Dispute Fortress “Selection Tournament” is a renowned event across the Western Lands, under the rule of the Duke of Azuregold.

Originally, it was a test created by Bryce Palmer Leo, the leader of the Whistling Legion, to recruit new blood. However, as his brother Milo took over the affairs of the Dispute Fortress, this talented young man gradually transformed it int…o a competition for adventurers.

Adventurers in the Western Lands enjoy a great deal of freedom.

They are not directly controlled by nobility and can freely trade treasures unearthed from the Zero Realm Enigma or other places for wealth, indulging in life’s pleasures. Among them, there are naturally those who pursue strength, for stepping onto the path of the extraordinary means an insatiable thirst for ascension.

But what does “strength” truly mean?

Is it the ability to venture deeper into the perilous Zero Realm Enigma? To unearth more valuable treasures? To become mightier… and then what?

Adventurers are like hyenas, driven by insatiable desires, never pure seekers of truth.

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For them, strength…must be something that can be exchanged for more tangible rewards.

Yet, this world is ironically “stable.” The Empress’s absolute dominion has eradicated the possibility for the extraordinary beings to unleash their full might in battle, leaving their power—violence—with no outlet for expression.

Consequently, many extraordinary beings have established their own domains, using their dominance over mortals to manifest the significance and value of their “strength”.

Humans inherently crave violence; all extraordinary beings possess, to some extent, the essence known as [Beast]. This is an ancient impulse, a desire etched into the very essence of life.

Milo astutely recognized this, transforming the Whistling Legion’s selection tournament into a gladiatorial event where extraordinary beings, like caged beasts, could battle each other to vent their power.

And… it was a resounding success.

Under the auspices of the Duke of Azuregold, the [Dispute Selection Tournament] has become the most sought-after event in the Western Lands. Although other adventurers, inspired by Milo, have held similar contests, none have matched his level. Beyond the Duke’s support, Milo’s own abilities have been crucial.

Each tournament features unique formats, an increasingly sophisticated system, and his masterful orchestration keeps his events far ahead of any competitors.

And yet, despite his formidable prowess, he inexplicably met his demise at Ansel’s hands due to an unpalatable commission.

Yes… he died at Ansel’s hands.

So, who is the person now standing at the highest point of the grandstand, overlooking the thronging masses, loudly declaring the commencement of the selection tournament?

*