Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 302: Sweet But Deadly

Clyde's hand caught hers before it could hit the ground.

The winds softened. The roar that had devoured Althea's world a moment ago faded into a hush, like the last breath of a storm.

Just moments before her soul departed for the afterworld, Althea felt herself lowered gently. Slowly, into the crook of his familiar arms, her back meeting the ground only when his knees touched it first. His warm touch—cold and lifeless just minutes ago—was trembling now.

Her vision was blurry, but she could still see him.

Tears clung to his dark gray lashes, glinting. His lips quivered. His whole body shook like the storm hadn't left, only moved inward. Into him.

And then Clyde sobbed—for the first time ever in front of her—a sound that splintered her chest far more than the cracked ribs beneath her skin.

"I'm so sorry, Athy," he whispered, voice barely a breath. "I don't know what came over me. I'm… I'm so sorry I hurt you."

And then, she saw it.

The light in his eyes.

Not just the color. Not just the glow. But the shine. That radiance she loved and admired. The warmth that had lit up her whole world.

It was back.

And somehow, that meant more to her than the fact that she was still alive.

"Wow…" she managed, her lips twitching into a half-smile despite the throbbing pain. "Thank the stars… You finally came back to me. I really thought our love story was about to take a tragic, unnecessarily poetic turn."

He gave a watery laugh, relief pouring off him like rain, and hugged her instinctively, only to make her let out a dramatic wince.

"Oww, oww— Clyde!" she hissed, wincing. "You just reduced my bones to dust! Remember that? Handle me like I'm made of fragile glass, please!"

Clyde froze like a deer caught mid-crisis. "Oh, Goddess… what have I done?" He looked around frantically as if divine guidance might drop from the ceiling. "What do I do? Do I get bandages? Potions? A new skeleton?!"

Althea wheezed a laugh, and despite everything, her expression softened. "You can start by not panicking, you idiot."

She reached up with trembling fingers to rest them lightly against his cheek—this time, his cheek was warm, yes, a little wet, thanks to the stream of his tears, but welcoming. "Just… hold me gently till I catch my breath. Once I can breathe without seeing stars, I'll start healing myself. You better be grateful that I'm a healer."

"I've never been more grateful for anything in my life," Clyde whispered, his tears still falling, though now with something softer behind them. Not panic. Not fear.

Love. Gratefulness. Regret.

"What do I even do to make this up to you?" he asked, voice cracking.

Althea breathed out a laugh, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into his forehead, lips curled in a smile.

"You've got your whole life to make it up to me."

And right then, held in his arms with the sun back in his eyes, she realized that she'd take this moment, this Clyde, over a painless survival any day.

Because this wasn't just living.

This was about having her light back.

———

Vyan didn't feel her presence until her shadow fell over him and her arms gently came around him, cradling him like something precious and breakable.

Iyana. His Iyana.

She truly was his knight in shining armor.

She moved with care, guiding his battered frame inch by inch, until his head rested softly on her lap. The pain flared up the moment his shoulder shifted—sharp, biting, blinding.

But he didn't let it show. Not when her touch felt like calm in the middle of chaos.

"I know it hurts," she murmured, brushing the hair from his face with fingers so tender they nearly brought tears to his eyes. "Just bear with it for a few minutes. Althea should be on her way. She'll fix you up soon."

Vyan looked up at her, eyes struggling to focus. Her face was smeared with ash and dried blood—some of it trailing from her temple, probably from when she'd crashed into that stone wall earlier. Her white gown, once pristine, now clung to her like a war-torn relic—dirt, soot, blood… even a leaf stuck stubbornly to her skirt. Her bun was an utter mess; it was barely tied up anymore. Wild and wind-blown, dust tangled in the strands like threads of stormcloud.

And yet…

She looked divine.

There wasn't a word beautiful enough in his vocabulary to capture it. She looked like a goddess who had crawled out of battle just to sit beside him. Like the universe owed him a miracle and sent her.

Wait—was she glowing?

Was he glowing?

Was this… heaven?

No, no. That's ridiculous. He was a lot of things, but heavenly bound? Absolutely not. If the gods had even the slightest sense of justice, he was at best taking the long scenic route through purgatory.

Which meant this was still the mortal world.

Then… what about Wyatt? Jade? Why wasn't anyone trying to skewer him anymore? Had the battle ended?

His brows furrowed with the weight of all the questions swirling behind his eyes, and of course, she noticed.

"You seem like you've got a lot of questions," Iyana said, her voice barely above a whisper as she stroked his hair.

She gave him a soft smile. That kind of smile that could still silence his thoughts on the worst day.

"Let me answer the most important one," she said, eyes meeting his with a quiet kind of gravity. "Yes. Jade is dead."

His breath caught.

Eyes widened.

"I'm sorry, Vee," she added, though regret didn't really flicker beneath it. "I know you wanted her punished publicly. You deserved to have that. But it came down to two choices—letting you die… or killing her. And well…" Her smile was sad but firm. "The choice was obvious."

He stared at her, blank for a moment. Then blinked. Once. Twice. Processing.

Finally, his lips parted.

"…Are you mad?" she asked, lips forming a playful pout, like she was scolding him for not reacting fast enough.

He couldn't help it. He laughed.

It hurt like hell. His ribs screamed in protest, and he winced so hard it looked like he might pass out.

But still… he laughed.

"How could I be mad?" he whispered through the pain. "Surviving this battle—that was the whole point. We all agreed on that, remember?" He looked up at her with those wine-red eyes, dimmed by exhaustion but still lit with the gentle spark only she could ignite. "You killed her… to save me. That's not something I'd ever resent. I'm thankful, Iyana."

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she smiled wider—relieved, radiant—and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering like a promise.

And in that moment, with his body broken and blood drying across his skin, Vyan felt whole.

Because she was here. And he was still here.

———

Vyan lay still for a few precious minutes, eyes half-lidded, letting the rhythm of Iyana's breath and the occasional sweep of her fingers through his hair lull him into something close to peace.

The pain hadn't faded. Every breath still felt like glass in his ribs. But being in her arms made it easier to forget.

Or at least ignore.

That illusion didn't last long.

Clyde came jogging toward them, arms carefully cradling Althea against his chest. "Vyan, are you okay?"

"Does it look like I am?" Vyan groaned.

Clyde did a glance-over of Vyan and winced. He was in a much worse condition than Althea. He was literally soaking in his own blood. "Did I really do that to you?" He was surprised at his own strength.

"No, I decided it would be a great way of checking my bone strength by slamming myself half a foot into the floor," Vyan smiled tightly.

"I'm so sorry! You know I'd never do that to you consciously, no matter how much you annoy me."

"I annoy you?" Vyan gritted his teeth. "It's you— Ah!" He was about to shout, only to be cut off by the pain that shot through his ribcage. "Fuck… ugh. This is all your fault."

"I'm sorryyyy," Clyde cried out. "I was being mind-controlled by Sienna."

"The heck? How did she even get here?"

"Long story short: she is a persistent witch."

Vyan sighed. "Just tell me that you finished her off."

"Of course, I did. How could I not? Especially after she tried to make me kill Athy." His voice was laced with a quiet anger.

"She tried to make you do what—ah, ah!"

"Stop talking, idiot!" Iyana scolded, and Vyan shut up obediently. Her gaze flicked toward Clyde. "Is Althea alright?"

"She's alive," Clyde said, voice tight. "But she fainted after the backlash. She can't heal anyone right now. I'm taking her back to the palace. She needs rest."

Vyan closed his eyes briefly, swallowing a groan. Great. More pain. Longer pain. His body was already staging a mutiny and now it had no reinforcements coming.

Iyana nodded. "Understood. Take her to her palace and make sure she's safe. I'll take Vyan to my quarter. Send for the family doctor immediately."

"Yes, my lady," Clyde replied. He looked down at Althea, eyes gentle despite the cuts on his face. "Hang in there, Athy…"

As Clyde left with Althea, Vyan blinked up at Iyana, half-exasperated and half-teasing. "Are you sure you can pick me up?"

She looked at him with the most unimpressed expression a war goddess could muster. "I can pick you up with one hand."

He grinned despite himself. "Yeah, I know. Just checking."

With a small huff and frightening ease, she slipped her arms beneath him and lifted him off the ground, cradling him as though he weighed nothing. As though he weren't a full-grown man with several broken bones and a stubborn habit of annoying her.

Being in her arms was oddly comforting. Until his gaze flicked past her shoulder.

He froze.

There, not far from where they'd fought, impaled through the chest and pinned to the wall like a grotesque tapestry, was Wyatt's body. His eyes were dull, mouth still parted mid-scream, sword still clutched in limp fingers.

And then…

Closer to them than that…

Vyan's breath hitched.

A head.

Yes, that's right. A fucking head.

Jade's.

Separated cleanly from her body.

Her face, twisted in terror, stared blankly at nothing. Blood pooled like a halo around it.

His heart pounded. A cold sweat broke across his brow. Slowly, with wide and horrified eyes, he turned to look up at the woman holding him.

Iyana met his gaze.

And smiled.

Soft. Gentle. Almost soothing.

He gulped.

Yep. Terrifying dual personality, confirmed.

She could kiss him sweetly one moment and decapitate his enemies the next. And the worst part? He was so proud of her for it.

"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her voice a calm contrast to the burning battlefield behind them.

Vyan let out a playful chuckle and teased, "Yeah… just you know, making a mental note never to piss you off."

She raised a brow, amused. "Smart choice."