Ascension Of The Villain

Fourteen months ago.

The battlefield camp in Ganlop was cloaked in a suffocating silence, the air heavy with the bitterness of defeat. Soldiers moved like shadows, avoiding their vice-commander like the plague, whose reckless charge into battle had sealed their fate. Their loss hung over them, but none felt it as keenly as Iyana.

She sat, hunched over on a cold stone, the dying embers of a campfire flickering weakly before her. Her gaze was hollow, empty, as though the very light had been drained from her life. The world around her was distant, muted—an unbreathable haze of grief that pressed down on her chest.

She had thought that throwing herself into the chaos of war might distract her, might silence the storm inside her. But even here, amidst the carnage, her soul screamed for him and only him.

His words echoed in her mind like a broken record that she couldn't stop, no matter how hard she tried.

"Do you even have to ask that? Of course, I hate you. I hate you! I fucking hate you so much!"

"I don't belong to you anymore, Iyana. And I never will."

The sound of his harsh, poisonous voice was like a blade twisting, his hatred sinking deeper with every breath she took.

She dug her nails into her forearms, trying to dull the pain that gnawed at her insides, but nothing could touch it. It was like drowning in fire. The agony was relentless. It was burning through her chest, her bones, her soul.

How did it come to this? She had always been able to separate her feelings from the battlefield, to lock away her heart and function as a soldier. But now… now, it was as though her very heart had been ripped from her chest and she was bleeding all over the battleground. That was affecting not only her but also her team.

But what choice did she have?

She had nowhere to go.

If she returned home, she would only find herself surrounded by memories—memories of him. That manor, especially her room, was soaked in his scent, in the shadows of his presence, and she knew she wouldn't survive it.

But staying here was also inconvenient. Her failures were dragging her team into disaster, and the thought of ruining anyone, least of all her subordinates, didn't sit right with her.

Help me… I… what do I do, Vyan?

Iyana buried her face in her hands, her fingers clawing at her skin in a desperate attempt to feel something other than the torment inside. More memories of Vyan played in her mind and she started missing him so badly that she wanted to pull out her sword and stab herself.

However, she knew, deep down, that it was better this way. Vyan had to stay away from her. His hatred, however devastating, was the only thing that could protect him. If he stayed, if he loved her… her father would kill him. She couldn't let that happen. No matter how much it broke her.

Even so, how could she continue to live like this? How could she breathe, how could she exist, when the only person she had ever truly loved despised her with such burning intensity? And the fact that she further fueled his hatred with her obnoxious pretense only made her feel worse. Everything in her life now felt like poison, eating away at her every moment, pulling her deeper into the darkness.

She didn't know how much longer she could hold on. How much longer she could endure the torment? It was killing her—slowly, painfully, piece by piece.

And the worst part? She wasn't even sure she wanted to survive it.

It was then that Leila arrived. Iyana barely registered her presence or even the fact when she got to Ganlop. Leila approached her unhesitantly and remarked, "Woah, Iya, you look terrible. Like real bad."

Iyana didn't raise her head, staring into the darkness of her palms.

Leila sat beside her, not caring about the dirt or the cold. She reached out, hesitating for a moment, then placed a gentle hand on Iyana's back. "I know what happened," she said softly, "with Vyan."

Iyana's lips trembled, her mask cracking under her pain. She couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

"It's so painful, Ellie," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I can't go on like this. I… I-I can't bear his hatred. I can't live with the me, who behaved so terribly with him, the me who made him hate me. I…" she choked, breaking down into sobs. "I just… I just want everything to go back to the way it was.

I want to see him… I… I want to… I want him to love me again," she sucked in a shaky breath. "I… I didn't realize just how much he meant to me, how much I was incapable of living without him. I can't… I really can't…"

Leila's heart ached for Iyana. She had never seen Iyana like this—so utterly broken.

"I mean, I wake up every morning, and… he is not there to greet me anymore. I… don't… His face isn't the last one I see before bed, either. Everything is just so… unbearable. I can't go on anymore. I need him back… I don't want… I need him back in my life."

Leila tried to think of something comforting to say, but what could one possibly say to heal a wound that ran so deep? So, she did what she could only do—listen. She listened to Iyana who laid her bleeding heart bare in front of her.

Iyana talked, more like, cried and sobbed for hours, and Leila listened patiently. It was not every day the strongest woman in the empire let herself grieve. Iyana hadn't let out a single tear since the last time she broke down in front of Easton. Speaking of Easton, it was him who informed Leila about Iyana's abrupt departure to Ganlop.

At last, Iyana asked, her tears dried, "What do I do, Ellie? I have forgotten how to live without him. How do I… how do I relearn that?"

Leila sighed heavily, her eyes wandering to the tall trees surrounding them. "I don't know, Iya. I truly don't know. But sometimes, I think, wouldn't it be nice if we could just… forget? You know, like voluntarily wiping out memories that hurt too much?" she suggested, half-joking, half-serious. "In that way, you would have been able to just forget Vyan in a snap of the fingers and move on.

How convenient, no?"

The words were meant to lighten the mood, to bring a sliver of humor into the darkness, but instead, they planted a seed.

Iyana's eyes flickered with something—an idea—forming in the depths of her despair. "Forget…" she murmured, the word like a spark catching in her mind.

Leila noticed the change in her expression and nudged her shoulder lightly. "Hey, I was just kidding. You know that, right? Memory loss isn't exactly a sane solution to heartache," she said, trying to laugh it off, though her eyes remained concerned. "The healthy way to move on is to let the heart feel, even if it's just soul-crushing pain. You have to feel the feelings.

You can't just forget them. If you do that, those feelings will only come rushing back when you see him again…"

But Iyana didn't respond.

Her mind was already elsewhere, grasping onto the desperate notion like a lifeline. If she could forget… if she could erase the memories of Vyan and his love, his care, even his hatred, perhaps she could breathe again. Perhaps she could survive.

"Okay, I should get going now. Derek only let me come here for a short time. He is too overprotective, you know?" Leila said and got up from beside Iyana. "I will send you letters. Reply to me, okay?"

Iyana merely hummed as Leila left, unaware of the storm she had stirred up.

It wasn't long after Leila left that Iyana recalled hearing whispers about a witch living deep in the forests beyond Ganlop. A witch with the power to tamper with memories, to twist and erase them like ink on a page.

———

Present.

Leila's pacing echoed off the walls, frantic footsteps matching the erratic thud of Iyana's heart.

"Oh my God, this is all my fault, this is all my fault," Leila's words tumbled out in a panicked loop, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

On the other hand, Iyana gripped the couch's edge with white knuckles, tried to focus—tried to make sense of the storm raging in her mind. Her memories—all of them—wiped clean. Not just related to Vyan. She couldn't piece together why.

Why had she been so reckless? Why did she think it would be a good idea to forget her family members were all terrible people? It was totally her fault that her family was able to use her like a puppet.

Leila's muttering buzzed like a wasp in the background, louder and more frantic by the second. "—Oh, no. Oh, no. What do I do?"

Iyana's patience snapped. "Why are you stressing so much? If what you are saying is true, it was my decision—"

Leila whirled, eyes wide, hair disheveled, panic bleeding into every movement. "No! You wouldn't have done it if I hadn't suggested it to you!"

"You don't know that. I might have still done it. What's meant to happen, happens—"

"That's the thing! It wasn't meant to happen."

Iyana's eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? How do you know? Are you secretly the daughter of some deity?"

Leila's breath hitched, her eyes darting around the room, shoulders tight. She clutched her head, groaning, her guilt visibly crushing her. After what seemed like an eternity, she stilled. Her whole body slumped in defeat as she finally came to sit beside Iyana.

When she spoke again, her voice was strained, every word forced out like it was a secret she had been running from. "Okay, what I am about to tell you… you can't tell anyone. Ever." Stay updated with m-v le-mpyr

"What, are you really related to a deity now?" Iyana tried to joke, but the seriousness in Leila's eyes stopped her breath short.

"Related? Not quite," Leila whispered, slightly amused and wistful at the same time. "But a deity did bring me here."

Iyana's confusion deepened, a chill crawling up her spine as her brain fought to connect the pieces. "What… what are you talking about?"

"I…" Leila swallowed hard, her hands trembling. "I am not from this world, Iya."

Iyana stared, waiting for Leila to crack a smile. But there was nothing—just that haunting sincerity in her eyes.

"I am from a world where this," she vaguely gestured around the room, "your life," she pointed to Iyana and continued, "is a novel… and that's why I know all the major events that are supposed to happen with you—the protagonist—until your 'happily ever after' comes."

Iyana's breath caught in her throat. Her stomach twisted violently as if reality itself had just shifted.

"I am… what they call in my world, a transmigrator."