A Villain's Guide to Saving the World-Chapter 52: The Great Prince! Ascends…?

Ivan advanced into the marching wall of five frost giants, each step of theirs sending tremors through the cracked coliseum floor. Their breaths clouded the air like winter storms, and frost clung to every surface they passed. The temperature plummeted with their arrival, but Ivan kept a steady flame burning in his mouth to stave off the creeping cold, his breath now billowing steam with every exhale.

"Your size will be your downfall!"

His voice cut through the frigid air like a battle horn.

He lunged forward, sword drawn and blazing—hellfire coiling along the length of the blade, dripping like molten blood from its edge. With both hands gripping the hilt, he poured all his strength into the attack.

"Dragon Slash!"

The shout ignited the weapon in a blinding fusion of dragonfire and hellfire, the two ancient flames dancing violently around the steel. The heat surged outward in waves, meeting the cold with a thunderous hiss. Frost cracked. Ice shattered. The very air trembled at the collision of elements.

Ivan reached the lead giant, who swung a spiked flail the size of a small carriage. The sheer force of it carved a trench into the stone floor. Ivan ducked low, his boots skidding on the frost-covered ground. His side numbed instantly—ice creeping up his ribs like claws digging into flesh—but he gritted his teeth and fought through it.

With a guttural roar, he launched upward, his sword a streak of fire in the gloom. The slash landed true, cleaving through the giant’s ankles. Flaming steel met bone-hard ice with a scream of steam and sparks—and severed both feet clean off.

The giant collapsed, roaring in shock as it crashed to the earth.

"That... was tougher than I thought..."

Ivan barely had time to catch his breath before another frost giant raised its palm overhead and brought it crashing down, aiming to flatten him like a gnat. The shadow it cast swallowed him whole.

"For the love of—!"

He snarled and raised his blade, its flames licking desperately at the descending wall of ice and flesh.

The impact came like a falling mountain. His knees buckled. The codex at his hip flared bright, magic surging through his veins. He screamed against the pressure, sword straining beneath the immense weight of the giant’s hand. Steam burst from his mouth as he struggled to hold the strike at bay.

"Tough bastards..."

His arms trembled violently, muscles locking under the stress.

Around him, the other giants watched with hollow amusement. Even the one he’d just maimed was regenerating, icy tendrils swirling and reforming the severed stump into a jagged leg of glacial armor.

The mockery boiled his blood.

"Don’t—underestimate me!"

The air trembled. His eyes flared gold, and cracks spiderwebbed across the coliseum floor. Heat surged up his spine, molten fury blooming in his chest.

"Dragon Slash!"

Again, the blade answered. It burned hotter than before—too hot to be hellfire alone. The flames screamed as they clashed with the frost giant’s palm. With a final roar, Ivan pushed upward, cleaving the massive hand straight down the middle. The split parted like brittle bark, steam hissing into the sky.

"It... worked...!"

Ivan gasped, stumbling backward as the giant howled in agony. His laugh was short, breathless—more a survival reflex than amusement. He skidded across the ice-slick floor, kicking up shards of frozen stone as he put distance between himself and the next threat.

The wounded giant glared with burning blue eyes, preparing a retaliatory strike. Its breath coiled like fog, and the temperature plunged even further.

"Come at me, beasts!"

Ivan’s shout echoed across the ruined arena. His voice cracked with exhaustion but still rang with defiance.

"You’re quite a loud fighter, huh...?"

Lucian’s voice floated down, dry and amused. He lay suspended high above on his floating shadow-bed, arms behind his head, watching the chaos unfold like an afternoon show.

"Need some help?"

Ivan gave a grin through gritted teeth, blood dripping from the edge of his lip.

"If I couldn’t handle this much... then I wouldn’t even be worthy of your help."

Lucian raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed.

Ivan inhaled sharply, drawing in every breath of fire he could manage. The codex pulsed wildly now, its pages flapping as if caught in a storm, the glyphs glowing with ancient energy. His entire body trembled—overwhelmed not by fear, but by something else.

A vision sparked behind his eyes—not of glory, but of training halls, of his father’s disappointed stare, of a boy told to hold back, to obey, to wait for permission to be great.

Not anymore.

"You know what...?"

His smile widened.

"Screw it all!"

With a final, guttural roar, he let everything go. The flames inside him erupted outward. His codex exploded with light, a blinding golden radiance that swallowed the entire arena. The winds howled. Debris was hurled into the air. And Lucian, still lounging above, was thrown from his perch like a paper doll.

"Woah—!"

He caught himself mid-fall with a tether of darkness, anchoring it into the sky like a grappling hook. Even from above, he had to shield his eyes from the blast below.

The frost giants staggered, roaring in confusion, blinded by the sudden storm of fire and light. Some shielded their faces; others froze in place, sensing something had changed.

Lucian blinked through the wind, peering down in disbelief.

"...Did he just achieve an Awakening? From frost giants?!"

Where Ivan had stood, the ground was scorched to black glass. The wind slowly died, revealing a figure wreathed in golden fire. His royal garments were gone—burned to ash in the transformation. His body now shimmered with overlapping dragon scales, iridescent in the flickering light. Broad wings, like obsidian blades, spread wide behind him, and a single curved horn jutted in the middle like a symbol of absolute dominion.

Ivan’s eyes opened slowly, burning with the power of his bloodline—fierce, ancient, and proud.

He stepped forward, his voice echoing like thunder.

"Tremble, beasts... the dragon-blooded prince is here!"

He declared proudly, resting his new sword across his shoulders—a blade forged from pure dragonfire, born of his own flames. Not a trace of Lucian’s hellfire remained.

Lucian let out a surprised laugh, equal parts amused and impressed, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Looks like I picked the right guy to serve after all!"