A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

While coordinating with other extraordinary beings, he had instructed Crow and Rhine to provide whatever assistance possible to Seraphina and Ravenna. Faced with a force that even Ansel himself had to temporarily retreat from, their rescue efforts would undoubtedly prove arduous.

This concern flashed briefly through Ansel’s mind before he swiftly refocused on the task at hand. Outwardly, he barely paused before continuing, “This is what Evora is capable of now. Imagine, if you will, should she gain the acceptance of the Source Flames and truly master that power…”

“The day the Empire burns to ashes would surely be upon us.”

First and foremost, Ansel had to extinguish any notion the Dukes and other extraordinary beings might harbor of aligning themselves with Evora.

He had already made considerable preparations for this task, but fate had presented him with an even more opportune moment—though he wondered when the price for such fortune would come due.

Leveraging their fear and the reality of Evora’s current madness, Ansel sought to imprint upon their minds the idea that “Evora must be eliminated, or all is lost.” While not a simple task, it was far from insurmountable.

After all, it was likely that every individual present fervently wished for the lineage of the Flamefeast to be severed.

And then…

“Lord Hydral,” interjected a mysterious figure shrouded entirely in a black robe, seated midway around the circular table. His voice was harsh and grating.

This extraordinary being hailed from the Terminus Hall, an organization whose members all traversed the Abyss. They viewed the Path of Heaven as one for the weak, believing true transcendence could only be attained within the depths of the abyss. Consequently, they held great reverence for the Hydral clan… who were practically embodiments of the abyss itself.

“Evora… must perish. But how are we to accomplish her demise?”

Or rather, what were their odds of victory against an Evora now imbued with unfathomable power?

The question was crucial. While all desired Evora’s death, among these extraordinary beings with their disparate interests, none wished to be the first sacrifice.

Much like after the Empress’s “death,” when logic dictated that the most advantageous move for the extraordinary beings would have been to immediately band together and eliminate Ansel, yet ultimately, no one had taken action.

In this moment, Ansel’s task was clear.

He needed to instill… confidence in them.

“I comprehend the hesitation that may arise among you due to the formidable power Evora now displays. Rest assured, I’m acutely aware that none present harbors a death wish,” declared the young Hydral as he rose to his feet.

His handsome visage, shedding the last vestiges of boyish innocence, exuded an inherently persuasive confidence and conviction.

“However, a crucial point must first be grasped. If Evora truly possessed an overwhelmingly insurmountable power, would she not refrain from sequestering herself behind labyrinthine spatial barriers?”

Ansel gently tapped the table, prompting the projection to shift to a frontal view of the rift in the enigma realm. The jagged fissure, ceaselessly spewing blood-hued flames, undulated like a living entity, contracting and dilating subtly. The projection offered no glimpse beyond the threshold.

“Even in her madness…” Ansel remarked with a wry smile, “she’s cognizant that returning here would spell her certain doom.”

“Yet, the power to simultaneously rend thirty-six gates of the enigma, coupled with this magnitude of Flamefeasts…”

Barns Keithanat, one of the nine supreme seats of the Ethereal Institute and a Phase Traveler, interjected, “By my reckoning, Evora’s current power… must have ascended to the brink of the sixth stage.”

As one of the rare extraordinary beings who had mastered spatial elements to the fifth stage, his opinion carried substantial weight.

“This isn’t a fleeting gate opening, but forcibly torn asunder and maintained as a stable rift,” Barns observed grimly, his gaze fixed on the projected fissure. “Such mastery over space is… simply inconceivable.”

Ansel merely offered a knowing smile. “This brings us to our next crucial point. Prior to this catastrophe’s onset, you Dukes witnessed, alongside me, the harbingers of this calamity, did you not?”

His gaze swept across the Dukes, their expressions varied. As they nodded in succession, he continued:

“The gates that opened then, due to their highly active fire elements, attracted numerous adventurers. Most surmised that beyond lay some relic of the Sky-Conquering Dynasty within the maze realm. Adventurers have contributed immensely to our understanding of the enigmas, their experience unparalleled. In this regard, I believe we can trust their judgment.”

“Thus, I formulated a hypothesis then – that Evora, during her drift through enigmas… may have fortuitously received a boon and power from some dynastic relic.”

“After all,” Hydral shrugged, “as a fully qualified heir of the Flamefeast bloodline, capable of inheriting the crown, it wouldn’t be surprising if she triggered some form of legacy, would it?”

“This supposition was confirmed shortly after Evora tore open the rift,” Ansel turned to the Duke of Wyvern, slightly raising his chin.

“The Duke of Wyvern can attest to this. Together, we witnessed Evora… seated upon a dilapidated throne in a ruined palace.”

“…Indeed,” the Duke of Wyvern concurred, sensing a vague incongruity yet unable to refute Ansel’s words, particularly given the inopportune timing for such objections.

“Lord Hydral forcibly breached the labyrinth Evora had constructed. For a fleeting moment, through the rift, I glimpsed Evora seated upon the throne.”

This declaration swiftly quashed the faint glimmer of morale that had been kindled by their shared loathing and fear of the Flamefeasts. While it could indeed elucidate Evora’s current unfathomable power, it simultaneously seemed to… render her an insurmountable adversary.

However, Ansel’s response was a smile and a light applause. When he spoke, his voice resonated with an echo-like quality, imbued with arcane energy that instantly jolted the extraordinary beings from their stupor.

“Calm yourselves, esteemed friends. I’ve yet to conclude my discourse. How curious that you, standing at the pinnacle of power, should lose your capacity for rational thought merely due to the presence of the Flamefeasts.”

This blunt provocation, though crude, proved remarkably effective on these formidable beings who had long chafed under the dominion of the Empress and Flamefeasts.

“Lord Wyvern,” Ansel addressed Clement once more, “In that fleeting moment, beyond sensing Evora’s madness, what else did you perceive?”

What else? What else could there be besides terror?

The Duke of Wyvern naturally couldn’t voice such thoughts. Moreover, he was reluctant to engage with Ansel’s leading questions, sensing how Ansel was manipulating him to guide the other extraordinary beings’ mindset… Nevertheless, the gravity of the situation demanded a response.

“Danger, horror, uncontrollability, and—”

Clement wracked his brain for appropriate terms, but before he could continue, Ansel interjected with a smile, “Precisely. Uncontrollability. You maintained remarkable composure, Duke of Wyvern, to discern Evora’s instability in such a brief instant.”

The young Hydral faced the assemblage of extraordinary beings, his tone gradually rising: “Let us engage in a simple deduction.”

“If Evora indeed acquired the legacy of a bygone dynasty within the realm of enigmas, attaining the zenith of power below the sixth stage, why did she not return directly? Instead, she inexplicably rent numerous rifts in the realms, maniacally unleashing the feasting flames while sequestering herself within a labyrinth.”

“If she lacks sufficient strength, such catastrophic destruction would be beyond her means. Conversely, if she truly possesses such might, why would she conceal herself within a maze that even I struggle to penetrate? This presents an evident contradiction.”

“But let us not forget, esteemed all,” Ansel intoned, a staff materializing in his hand, its gentle tap on the ground resonating with a deep, muffled sound.

“Let us not forget that Evora has descended into madness.”

“We know not how long she was immolated by Ephesande’s flames in the realms, nor what power she employed to survive such an inevitably fatal predicament. Even so, her psyche has undoubtedly been incinerated to mere cinders—a fact both the Duke of Wyvern and I have confirmed.”

“Consider, then, a person on the brink of death, their very essence depleted and shattered, their will entirely collapsed. Even if granted that one-in-a-million miracle, stumbling upon a power that could salvage them from the abyss of oblivion—”

The young Hydral tilted his head slightly. “Would they truly possess the capacity to harness such power?” Find adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

Under his meticulous guidance, the apex extraordinary beings once again glimpsed hope amidst their despair.

“Your implication is… heh,” chuckled the enigmatic extraordinary being from the Chronos Guild. “As the Duke of Wyvern suggested—she’s lost control.”

Indeed, Evora had lost control.

This singular explanation perfectly reconciled the previous contradictions.

— Her madness and loss of control explained her frenzied unleashing of calamity upon the Western Lands; Unable to properly harness her newfound power, she was compelled to sequester herself within the labyrinth, preserving her existence while striving to assimilate this overwhelming force.

This deduction brought clarity to the extraordinary beings. Though some harbored doubts about the simplicity of Ansel’s reasoning and the speculative nature of his supporting information, no other conclusion carried the same persuasive weight.

Evora, driven to insanity by Ephesande’s flames during her drift through the realms, miraculously encountered a relic of the Sky-Conquering Dynasty. There, she received the blessings and power of the ancient Flamefeast clan. However, unable to control this power, she went berserk.

Her final recourse… was to employ her mastery over spatial elements to seal off all paths, desperately attempting to assimilate and control this overwhelming force.

— Of course, this narrative was entirely Ansel’s fabrication.

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