Ascension Of The Villain

As the carriage rolled to a halt in front of some crumbling white fences, Vyan stepped out first, his polished boots sinking slightly into the gravel beneath. Clyde followed, his eyes scanning the area warily.

Before them stood a crumbling house, its paint peeling in long strips, revealing the gray, weathered wood beneath. The windows were opaque with grime, the glass cracked like spiderwebs. To the side, a barn loomed—its roof sagging under years of neglect, the doors hanging crookedly from rusted hinges.

"This place really is the perfect place to commit a crime. There literally are no houses in the one-kilometer radius," Clyde commented.

Vyan didn't respond as his eyes were locked onto the barn, his breath hitching for a fraction of a second. The memories washed over him, unbidden and vivid.

He could almost hear the distant echo of his own painful screams, wrecking sobs, whispered secrets shared with the horses that had been his only companions in that dark year. They had nuzzled him with warm, comforting noses. Their large, soft eyes understood in a way that person never had.

Maybe this was why Vyan really loved and adored horses even now. His love for them must have taken place in this place, credits to the fact that this person was a horse trainer.

"Hey, do you think someone even lives here?" Clyde questioned. "Father Fred did give this address, but it looks to have been abandoned for years."

"Perhaps, he moved somewhere else. Father Fred only knows the address of the place that Father Klaus had found me fifteen years ago," Vyan replied.

Clyde glanced at Vyan cautiously. "Are you sure about this, Vyan?" he asked, his voice low and uneasy. "This guy—he's not exactly mentally stable. What if he still lives there and makes it look like he doesn't? I wouldn't put it past him to do something… like this."

Vyan turned to Clyde with a smile more confident than he actually felt. "If he is in there, that would be for the best. I have some scores to settle with him, after all," he replied, a trace of dark humor in his tone.

"Yes, but what if you get a panic attack or something like that?" Clyde murmured.

"Hey, don't underestimate me. I am not that weak. I will be fine. He might have seemed like an unbeatable monster back then, but I am not a terrified six-year-old anymore. I am older, wiser, and definitely better at handling monsters. I mean, please, I have taken on literal monsters."

"That's true…"

"Besides, if he tries anything, we will handle him together," Vyan assured, and Clyde nodded, albeit hesitantly.

The unease lingered in the air between them as they made their way through the overgrown weeds that choked the path to the house.

Vyan's gaze drifted back to the barn, and for a moment, fear flickered in his chest, only to be replaced by determination the next moment. He had come a long way since those days, and he wasn't about to let an old ghost haunt him any longer.

Meanwhile, Clyde approached the door with a frown, his hand hovering just above the rough wood. He glanced at Vyan, who gave him a subtle nod. With a quick motion, Clyde raised his hand, and a pulse of energy surged from his fingertips.

The door shuddered before it was blown inward, splinters flying as it crashed against the wall inside. Dust billowed up from the impact.

Vyan stepped over the threshold first, his eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through the grime-caked windows. The house was like a tomb with a thick layer of dust coating every surface. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the stale air, and the furniture was draped in filthy sheets.

As they moved deeper into the house, memories clawed their way to the surface. Vyan could almost see his younger self, small and frightened, cowering in the corner as the man towered over him, a sneer on his unclear face.

He vividly remembered the cold floor against his cheek, the taste of blood in his mouth after a blow, the overwhelming helplessness that had nearly consumed him. The smell of the place hadn't changed, a mix of mold, rot, and something metallic—something that made his stomach turn.

His breath hitched, but he forced himself to keep moving. Each step felt like a battle against the flood of memories.

"It doesn't seem like anybody has been living here," Vyan stated. "I think we will have to ask around more to find out where this man lives now."

Clyde nodded, his eyes still scanning for any sign of danger. As they ventured further into the house, his nose wrinkled in distaste. "Doesn't the air smell weird in here?"

Vyan paused, taking in a deep breath. The smell was odd, thicker than just the dust and decay of an abandoned house. But then again, this house always smelled like death. So, he dismissed it with a shrug and suggested, "Maybe it's just the smell of some dead rodents or something."

Clyde didn't seem convinced, but he let it go, his attention shifting to a closed door at the end of the hall.

Vyan followed, but as he did, a strange sensation crept over him. "Ah, Clyde, you might have been… right." His head began to feel heavy, as if blood was rushing to his brain. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the edges of his sight blurred.

"Vyan?" Clyde's voice was distant and distorted, as if coming from underwater.

Vyan tried to respond, but his tongue felt heavy and uncooperative. His legs buckled beneath him, and the world tilted, spinning out of control.

The last thing he saw before everything went black was Clyde also falling to the floor.

———

A searing splash of hot water jolted Vyan from the depths of unconsciousness. He sputtered, gasping as his senses slowly clawed their way back to reality.

His vision was a blur, the world spinning around him as he struggled to make sense of what had happened. The smell of damp hay and something far more bitter filled his nose, and it took him a moment to realize where he was.

The barn.

The very place that had haunted his nightmares. He blinked hard, forcing his eyes to focus on the wooden beams overhead. He had spent countless hours in this barn as a child, though the memories were far from fond. But now, those memories felt disturbingly close, as if they were happening all over again.

Panic surged as he tried to move, only to find his hands and legs bound tightly. His stress got worse as he turned his head.

Clyde lay on the ground a few feet away, his face pale and his eyes closed. His feet were tied with ropes and his wrists were shackled with cuffs that glimmered faintly until they became clear—mana-restraining handcuffs.

"Clyde…" Vyan whispered, his voice hoarse, but there was no response. "Hey—" He paused as a shadow moved into his line of sight, pulling his focus away from his friend.

The man who had splashed him with water stood over him, his perfectly smiling face now replaced with a cold, merciless look. Vyan's breath caught in his throat as recognition struck him like a blow to the chest.

"Father Fred...?"

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