Ascension Of The Villain

Much contrary to expectations, the waves were smooth.

A startling calm greeted Vyan as he squinted into the sunlight, the expanse of the horizon wrapped in an endless blue. The sea shimmered like molten sapphire, scattered with the glint of the late morning sun.

The wind teased his black hair, sweeping it across his eyes as he leaned back against the steering seat.

He was driving the yacht himself. Not because he fancied the thrill of steering a vessel he'd barely learned to manage, but because he had no choice.

There was no one else on board.

The yacht—yes, a yacht—was quiet, save for the soft whirr of the motor and the sound of waves gently slapping against the hull.

It wasn't fancy. Just a second-hand motorized yacht he'd bought with most of the money he'd had on him. It had a modest deck, a tiny cabin below, and a steering console with controls that initially looked more complicated than summoning a meteor. But Vyan had figured it out with some instructions from an old man who has had years of sailing experience.

When Adrian had asked, more exasperated than concerned, "Do you think you're an expert now just because someone taught you the handles?", Vyan had just shrugged.

"How hard can it be? It's just like driving a motorized carriage. With no wheels. And lots of water."

Adrian had given him a look because he could tell that Vyan had never driven a carriage before. But he had relented, handed Vyan a waterproof pouch stuffed with essentials—meds for nausea, a compass, polythene bags in case he decided to hurl his guts out mid-sail—and saw him off like a very reluctant mother duck.

"I swear to God, if you just end up wasting your life in vain..."

Touching, really.

Still, Vyan had waved him off with a lazy smirk and too much confidence for someone whose entire knowledge of sailing came from a two-hour crash course given by a sunburned retiree on the dock.

And yet, here he was.

Alive. Sailing. Not puking.

This was his first time on a boat—any boat. And for someone who had crossed worlds and teleportation portals, motion sickness was nothing.

This was the eye of the storm. And he didn't mean that metaphorically. According to his calculations—rough and imprecise as they were—he should be nearing the supposed center of the Bermuda Triangle.

A mystical place whispered about in this world.

If there were any seams in the world, any cracks between the veil of time and space, he suspected they would be here.

He had no idea what would happen. No clue if the triangle was real, or if it was just a swirling pit of stories meant to scare sailors and science teachers alike. But it was his only lead. This anomaly might give him a doorway home.

Or somewhere else—hopefully not.

Once he was sure that he was in the right location, he took a deep breath and tried to summon his mana.

But there was nothing.

He even used the mana stone that Clyde had given him. However, it also proved to be fruitless.

Vyan twitched his lips and murmured, "Perhaps, the anomaly is only created when there is a storm?"

The sky was far too clear right now. He might have to wait on that one. Even though he didn't bring in too much food supplies. It was only enough for one more day. It was worth a shot, though.

Vyan waited.

And for a while longer, the sea stayed calm.

The sun hung high, and Vyan even considered taking his vest off. The salt was drying against his skin, and he was starting to smell suspiciously like grilled fish. He opened a bottle of water and drank lazily, eyes half-lidded as he rocked gently with the motion of the sea.

"Oh, thank Goddess. I see dark clouds." Never thought he would say this, but he also never thought he would end up in a modern world. Life really was full of surprises, eh?

He noticed the clouds slowly at first—a gray smear smudging the blue edges of the sky. Then thicker patches. Darker clouds. Colder wind.

The water, which had played nice up until now, started shifting, the waves now swelling with a warning rhythm. The yacht lurched.

He stood up slowly, his fingers tightening on the wheel. Normally, people would be freaked at seeing a storm approaching while in the middle of water all alone. But Vyan was rather glad.

"Alright, alright. Now, let's get a little wilder, will you? I want the time portal to open up. I want to go home."

The sea responded with a grumble. It was a distant roar echoing across the water. His eyes darted toward the horizon. The storm was brewing stronger. He could feel it in his skin, in his bones.

And his mana.

He reached inward, tried to summon that warmth.

But nothing came.

It was like calling into a void.

The realization chilled him faster than the wind did.

"…No," he whispered, pressing his palm to his chest. "Not again. Dammit, when is it going to work?"

Another wave slammed against the yacht, harder this time. Water sprayed over the side, dousing him head to toe. The motor hummed shakily, groaning like it knew it was outmatched.

He gripped the controls. Turned slightly. Adjusted the angle.

But the sea didn't care.

Another wave, taller, angrier, slapped the side of the yacht, knocking Vyan off balance. His equilibrium wasn't fully restored yet. He slammed into the side railing, cursed loudly, and forced himself upright.

"Okay! I get it that I wanted you to get wild. But can you please not hurt me? It hasn't been long since I woke up from a coma—"

And that's when the worst happened.

The wind howled.

The yacht tilted.

He had just enough time to feel the shift in balance, to hear the groaning creak of metal and fiberglass—

—and then the world flipped.

Literally.

The yacht capsized with a force that snatched the air from his lungs. Vyan hit the water hard, the cold shocking his body like a punch to the soul. He flailed on instinct, disoriented, blinded by salt and churned foam.

Up! Up! Up!

His limbs kicked against the pull of the ocean, thrashing through the freezing dark. The surface felt impossibly far, his lungs already beginning to scream.

Don't panic.

He told himself in his head, but it was useless advice.

He did panic.

Saltwater filled his mouth, choked his throat. He clawed upward, his body heavy, his limbs sluggish.

And then, air.

Sweet, glorious air.

He broke through the surface with a gasp that tore through his chest. Coughing, sputtering, his arms flailed for balance as waves slammed into him like fists.

The yacht was nowhere.

Only the shattered pieces of what once was.

He treaded water desperately, the rain beginning to pour like the sky had cracked open.

And still—no mana.

Not a flicker.

Nothing to shield him. Nothing to burn through the storm. Nothing to give him an edge.

He was human.

Utterly, terrifyingly human.

Maybe this was what Adrian was talking about—dying in vain.

But it's not like Vyan didn't know this was the most sheer stupid, reckless idea he had ever gone through. But he had been willing to risk it. Risk everything if there was a chance to go home. But now…

Caught between the rising wrath of the ocean and the void overhead, he was afraid.

Truly afraid.

No, not of death.

But about breaking his promise.

He had promised Iyana that he would be back to her. That he wouldn't die at the age of twenty-one. That he would be by her side for a long time.

He had saved her life, but at what cost? If she ever got to know, he threw his life away for her—

"Love, you would be so mad at me," he whispered, salt and rain on his lips.

He couldn't die here.

Not yet.

The ocean didn't stop to support him, though.

Wave after wave kept rising, cresting, then crashing over him with the kind of indifference only nature could possess. Vyan fought against it with everything he had—arms burning, chest on fire, eyes stinging with salt. His fingers grasped for anything, but there was no wreckage near enough to cling to. The yacht had vanished, devoured whole like a toy boat in a bathtub too deep.

Time didn't move normally anymore. He didn't know how long he kept swimming. Until he couldn't anymore.

He was overwhelmed with a big wave and was thrashed down underwater.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

He didn't know when exactly the world stopped being violent. When the screaming waves dulled to silence, when the pain in his limbs numbed, when time ceased its endless beat. But he felt it—like a curtain had dropped, and now he was sinking into something… older.

Colder.

Deeper.

His body no longer struggled. It simply… descended.

Into the core.

The sea had a heart, and Vyan was falling straight into it.

It wasn't the physical pressure that stilled him. He could feel it. The distortion. A ripple in the laws of modern reality. A fracture in the sequence of time.

And something inside him responded.

It began with a spark.

A flicker deep in his chest.

Small at first. Like a single match in a room of darkness.

Then the warmth began to spread. He could feel his mana circuit activate.

My mana. Oh, thank Goddess.

His eyes opened. He reached out, and the water trembled in response.

He didn't think. Didn't analyze. He simply moved.

Raw magic surged through him. He kept sinking, but he was no longer drowning. The water wasn't invading his lungs. The storm had no effects on him anymore.

He waited. Till enough mana gathered.

Then, he did it.

The reality around him shattered.

In the blink of an eye, the water turned to starlight.

And Vyan was no longer sinking into the water.

He was now falling.