Ascension Of The Villain

"Remember me, my little lamb?" Fred's voice slithered through the darkness, his head tilting with a psychotic grin.

Vyan's breath hitched, his chest tightening as he forced the words out. "You… how…"

Fred crouched in front of him with assessing eyes, similar to a predator savoring the hunt. "Oh, I am hurt." His voice dripped with mockery and malice. "I thought you would never forget my face in this lifetime." His hand clamped down on Vyan's shoulder, the grip tightening with a sickeningly slow force, like a vice. "But it seems I was too forgettable for you, wasn't I?"

Vyan clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out as Fred's sheer strength snapped his shoulder out of place. The agony was blinding, but he bit down on the scream, his body trembling with the effort to remain silent.

Fred chuckled, the sound cold and twisted. "Ah, so your pain tolerance has grown. I used to love hearing you scream. It soothed the torment in my soul."

Despite the excruciating pain, Vyan forced himself to take a few big breaths, steadying his mind.

Fred clicked his tongue. "What's this? You are no fun anymore. Where are you interesting reactions?" His hand shot out, grabbing Vyan's chin, nails digging cruelly into his flesh. "Don't you fear me?" he spat out, his face inches from Vyan's, eyes wild and burning with rage.

But Vyan didn't flinch.

His gaze remained steady, disinterested even, as if Fred were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "No, not really," he replied, his voice almost bored. He felt a bitter sting of regret—not fear—but for not being more suspicious of Father Fred in the first place. He shouldn't have waited to get back home and have Freya dig information on him.

Fred's face twisted in fury, his grip on Vyan's jaw tightening until his nails drew blood. "What did you say? How dare you!"

Vyan rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall, the pressure on his cheek almost amusing in its futility. "Please, I am not a child. Your little tantrum isn't scaring me at all. Honestly, it's kind of pathetic."

Fred's teeth ground together, his nose flaring in barely contained rage. "You—"

"On second thought," Vyan interrupted, his tone dripping with irritation, "please don't scream. My head is still pounding from whatever smelly concoction you used to knock us out."

A vein throbbed on Fred's forehead, his wrath barely held in check. "You think you are better than me because you escaped from my clutches and slapped on some fancy noble title? Did you really think I would let you live in peace?"

"Yes, yes, how could you let me be? Misery sure does love company, after all." Vyan retorted, his voice laced with biting sarcasm.

"You got some nerve, huh," Fred let out, his breaths angry.

Vyan shook his head, feigning sympathy. "You really are still the same sad, pathetic man from fifteen years ago, aren't you?" His words were laced with mock pity. "But look at me, on the other hand," he smirked, a hint of defiance in his gaze. "I don't usually brag about it, but you have no idea about the power I hold in this empire now."

Fred's laugh was sharp, filled with an edge that sent chills down the spine. "Oh, I know, alright. Don't think for a second that I haven't been keeping track of you this entire time."

Vyan tried not to be fazed by the creepy confession and chuckled, opting to be taunting and almost amused. "Seriously, how obsessed are you with me? Couldn't you find someone new to torment? I mean, hey, I am glad someone else didn't have to go through what I did, but really, all this effort was just for me? No other little lamb?"

Fred's eyes darkened, the malicious intent clear as he twisted Vyan's injured shoulder again with a sadistic smile. "No," he hissed, his voice low and menacing, "it has to be only you."

Vyan bit back the surge of pain, refusing to give Fred the satisfaction of seeing him break. His breaths were controlled, his expression smug, even as his body screamed in agony.

"Only by making you suffer can I find peace," Fred murmured, a sick sense of pleasure dripping from each word. His grin widened as he leaned closer. "Do you know why the kids at the orphanage were so cruel to you during those eight years you lived there?"

A flicker of realization crossed Vyan's eyes, the truth sinking in like a cold knife. "You… you told them to do that?"

Fred's grin twisted into something more deranged, his eyes gleaming with a sinister glee. "That's right," he purred, relishing the moment. "Little kids are so easy to scare, you know? I simply reminded them every week that if they didn't make you cry, then I would make them cry instead."

Vyan swallowed, the depth of Fred's obsession hitting him like a tidal wave. Just how far had this man gone to ensure his life remained a living nightmare?

"And when you entered House Estelle as a knight apprentice, I made sure the shadows followed you there as well," Fred's grin widened, the sinister curve of his lips deepening. "I spread all kinds of rumors, poisoned the minds around you. I isolated you—left you exactly where you deserved to be—alone."

Vyan's mind raced as the pieces of his past clicked into place. The laughter, the whispers, the cruel jokes he had always assumed were made out of thin air. They were all Fred's doing, weaving a web of torment around him.

"I was always there, lurking like a shadow," Fred continued. "I made sure you never tasted happiness. I was almost successful… until she came along." His voice darkened, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury. "That meddling girl."

"What girl?" Vyan's eyebrow arched, though a sense of dread was beginning to coil in his chest.

Fred's expression twisted with irritation, his fingers twitching as if recalling a persistent itch. "You know who I am talking about. That girl—fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. Long hair, white… whitish-golden hair." His frown deepened as he scratched his head. "Whatever! She was a thorn in my side.

As if it wasn't enough that she was also dragging you back from the edge, making you smile again. She even had the audacity to stab me. Look!"

Fred lifted his shirt just enough to reveal a scar, the jagged line a testament to the violence inflicted upon him.

"What was that girl's name again? The daughter of the marquess—"

"Iyana," Vyan breathed out, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Seriously, Iyana, when did you even get your hands on this man?

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