A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

The half-dragons in the Duke of Wyvern’s domain were not offspring of dragons and humans, but rather beings that emerged after the ascension of the current Duke, Clement. Possessing intellect and empathy surpassing dragons, coupled with extraordinary talent far exceeding normal extraordinary beings, they were Clement’s most formidable asset after the colossal dragons themselves.

Their creation was inextricably linked to the mad Duke, Blatcher Bloodust, who was obsessed with biological alchemy and viewed his subjects as mere materials, even establishing blood banks, bone banks, and organ banks… to categorize them.

Odelia’s raid on one of Bloodust’s largest blood banks had incensed Blatcher, forcing her subordinates to resort to desperate measures, attracting attention through near-suicidal means at Dispute Fortress.

The half-dragons were Bloodust’s masterpiece, but such creations often necessitated countless failures.

The final modification before the half-dragons’ genesis, a [Life Usurpation Ritual] that was tantamount to success rather than failure, involved fusing the ultra-rare magical beast known as the shadow crow with humans. Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire

The sole successful case was the current master of Crow’s Nest, the Shadow of Annihilation, Fafnir.

Now, another stood before them.

Indeed, Nine’s newfound power stemmed from that cruel, horrifying… insane ritual that melded human and magical beast into one.

Given sufficiently rare materials, even an ordinary person devoid of any extraordinary aptitude could be elevated to an extraordinary being.

Fafnir’s intense benevolence towards Nine wasn’t due to discovering a fellow “victim,” but because the dominant consciousness in this half-beast body wasn’t human.

It was a pitiful shadow crow, possessing a strong sense of kinship, viewing itself as the last of its kind.

It saw Nine as… the only remaining kin in this world.

Nine glanced furtively at Ansel. Seeing him remain silent, she understood her role.

Her words as a “kindred” would carry far more weight than Faust’s.

“I… I was rescued by Mr. Faust. Before meeting him, I was held captive by the Duke of Bloodust,” the girl’s raspy voice carried an innate bewilderment.

“Earlier… I was captured by the Duke of Bloodust, and he… he placed me in a container.”

[Are you prepared? This isn’t merely flesh remodeling. Your consciousness will be forcibly kept awake until the ritual’s completion.]

[Yes, Lord Crow.]

“I felt… my body being pulverized.”

Skin, bones, muscles, meridians… bit by bit, compressed, crushed, forcibly kneaded into a mass by terrifying forces from all directions.

Even with my brain completely pulverized, no longer classifiable as a living being, just a writhing mass of rotten flesh, consciousness persisted. That indescribable sensation, beyond “pain,” had become a despair etched into my soul, washing over me every moment… every single moment.

“Then…” Nine’s voice began to quaver, “Then, something was forced in, it was eating me, it was… becoming me.”

I could sense an indescribable substance brutally tearing apart my already pulverized flesh. It felt as if thousands of steel needles pierced me from every angle, their tips exploding into hundreds of barbs upon entering my flesh, spreading through my body, taking root in… my very soul.

Thud—

Nine, no longer able to stand, collapsed to her knees. Fafnir, unable to bear the sight, reached out to catch her:

“Enough, child. That’s sufficient, please don’t…”

But Nine gently brushed away its hand.

“Please… let me continue.”

“I must remember… why I’m alive.”

Beneath her mask, Nine forced a strained smile, seemingly addressing both Fafnir and… herself.

“It was devouring me, I was devouring it…”

It replaced parts of my soul, parts of my pulverized flesh. My body, my entirety was being reshaped more cruelly than before. This reconstruction was more harrowing than being crushed into pulp, for I could feel the alien presence growing within my soul and flesh. As it occupied more and more, did I become it, or… did it become me?

No… it became me!

It must be me, only me, who can devote myself without hesitation, cast aside all superfluities, sacrifice everything. It couldn’t be anyone but me!

It’s Marlina Marlowe, me, this incompetent mediocrity, who solely dedicates everything to Mr. Ansel. This alone, this one thing… I absolutely cannot, will not be replaced by any other being!

I… devoured it.

I succeeded.

In the shadow-shrouded room, only Nine’s deep breaths could be heard.

At this moment, Ansel’s voice finally broke the silence.

“Are you aware of the recent meeting?”

Fafnir, filled with sympathy, still gazed at Nine, seemingly wanting to comfort her but unsure how. After about half a minute, as Nine’s condition gradually improved, it slowly turned to Ansel, its tone considerably softened:

“The meeting of dignitaries to address this calamity? You attended?”

“No,” “Faust” rested his cheek on his hand. “I took advantage of this opportunity to rescue her.”

As Fafnir was about to express gratitude, the dark-haired youth continued: “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s be clear, I have neither the interest nor the ability to protect her.”

“…She doesn’t need your protection. I’ll do it.”

Ansel scoffed: “Fafnir, if even I lack confidence in protecting her, why do you think you can?”

Fafnir seemed to sense an issue, their voice deepening slightly: “What exactly is going on?”

Mr. Faust briefly informed Fafnir about the Duke of Bloodust’s “Nine Million Plan,” then calmly stated: “If this plan succeeds, the Duke of Bloodust will be one of the greatest contributors to defeating Evora, and his influence will undoubtedly increase significantly.”

“You can sense it too, can’t you? Even though she’s still weak. She’s not a flawed product like you. She’s… more perfect. The Duke of Bloodust won’t disregard her as he did you.”

The half-dragon transformation, a pinnacle achievement in biological alchemy, primarily utilized materials provided by the Duke of Wyvern, with the Duke of Bloodust offering technical support.

Upon realizing the technique’s complexity was not as insurmountable as initially believed, merely arduous to develop, the Duke of Wyvern also discerned that the Duke of Bloodust had been exploiting this opportunity to extract significant resources.

Consequently, the Duke of Wyvern purloined the technology and terminated their collaboration.

This discord between potential allies led to an acrimonious parting. Given the unsavory aspects on both sides, their current relationship, while not lethal, remains strained and frigid.

As Fafnir’s transformation was deemed imperfect, the Duke of Bloodust paid little heed, allowing an opportunity for escape. However, through sheer will and ability, Fafnir clawed its way to the fifth stage. Once it had garnered reputation and influence, the Duke of Wyvern, to spite the Duke of Bloodust, offered a semblance of protection, enabling the Crow’s Nest to flourish.

Ansel’s words rendered Fafnir silent. Indeed, it sensed Nine’s condition was more stable than its own. Though perplexed by the Duke of Bloodust’s decision to revive the shadow crow fusion project… Fafnir knew that madman would never willingly release its kin.

Nine, having regained composure, gazed at Fafnir with a voice laden with exhaustion and sorrow:

“I believed I was… the last.”

“They… my friends, perished one by one.”

“?!”

Fafnir, momentarily paralyzed, swiftly materialized before Nine, gripping her shoulders with urgent intensity: “Are there other kin? Any survivors—”

“None remain,” Ansel stated dispassionately. “Regrettably, Fafnir, the Duke of Bloodust procured more shadow crows from an unknown source. Those crows were likely… the last of the kind, and they’ve all perished.”

“The being before you is your sole remaining kin.”

—This, of course, was a falsehood.

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