Ascension Of The Villain

A year.

A whole year.

The words echoed in Vyan's head like a bell tolling at the end of something sacred. His chest tightened, his ribs still in a healing phase now to contain the panic suddenly clawing its way up from deep inside.

His heart was thudding hard and uneven, like it was trying to catch up to time itself.

A year…

He turned slightly, gazing out at the open water. The Trycone Sea was silver in the daylight, stretching endlessly beneath a pale sky streaked with thin clouds. The warm wind whispered softly.

Ah, it's summer again.

It was summer when he disappeared. Seasons had changed. Fall, winter, and spring had all passed by in his absence. And it was summer again.

Gosh, I was right to be scared that the pace of our time was different.

A tremble built in his hands, a tight coil of disbelief and fury stirring in his chest.

Joshua.

That bastard. That stupid, fucking asshole who shot him and sent him into a coma. Everything had spiraled because of him.

If Joshua hadn't pulled the trigger, if he hadn't gotten in the way, Vyan would have been here sooner.

Two months, Vyan calculated feverishly in his head. At most, it should have only taken two months if I consider my world runs four times faster than Earth. That's all.

And now… a whole fucking year had passed.

A year of uncertainty. A year where Ashstone had lived without its Grand Duke. His family had to live on. Without him.

His throat clenched. He couldn't afford to spiral. Not here. Not now.

He turned toward the fishermen again, schooling his face, pulling the storm back behind a wall of composure.

"Thank you," he said softly, sincerely. "For pulling me out of the sea."

And without waiting for their response, he let the mana gather at his core.

The spell shimmered beneath his skin, and with a soft zap of displaced air and glowing sparks, he vanished from the boat in a blink of light and fire.

The fishermen staggered back a little at the suddenness of it. The space he'd occupied just seconds ago still shimmered faintly in the sun.

The younger one gawked, his mouth open. "…That was a mage, right?"

The older man didn't respond for a second, eyes narrowed at the rippling air where Vyan had been standing. "I wonder what a mage is doing out in the middle of the sea when the empire is in such a state."

"Maybe…" the younger one mumbled, still wide-eyed, "maybe that boy really was the Grand Duke."

They both stared at each other.

And then, abruptly, they burst into laughter. The sound rang sharp across the quiet sea.

"As if."

They laughed again, louder this time, like the idea itself was too absurd to believe.

But it would be only a little while before they realize that impossibilities have a strange habit of coming true.

The Grand Duke of Ashstone had just returned. And they had just missed out on a great opportunity for a big bounty.

———

The warm golden glow of Vyan's teleportation flickered out as his boots landed softly upon the polished marble of the grand hall.

His estate. His manor.

Home.

For a second, silence greeted him.

Vyan stood there, soaked, dripping seawater onto the floor, hair flattened, clothes clinging to his frame, utterly out of place in his own home and yet, deeply, wholly home.

The air smelled faintly of polished wood and fresh flowers. The ridiculously high ceiling loomed above, supported by intricately carved pillars and gilded chandeliers that still held the same elegant warmth. This was the over-the-top grand decorations that he had missed back in Modern Earth.

Across the hall, an elderly man stood near one of the side tables, inspecting a porcelain vase of fresh white lilies. He was adjusting a leaf meticulously like always. His eyes lifted slowly from the vase to the figure now standing at the center of the hall.

He froze.

The vase slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

His mouth parted, voice caught between disbelief and wonder. "Master…? Is that…"

But he never got to finish.

Because Vyan surged forward and wrapped his arms around the man in a tight, breathless hug.

"Oh, my Goddess, Benedict," Vyan whispered, "I missed you so much."

The old butler stood stiffly at first, his arms halfway raised, eyes still wide with stunned disbelief.

All around them, a hush had fallen over the manor. A few servants nearby had turned at the sound of shattering porcelain and now stood frozen at the edges of the hall, gasping softly.

Benedict slowly placed his hands on Vyan's back.

The embrace lingered for only a few heartbeats before Vyan pulled back, a wide grin breaking across his sea-kissed face. His hair was a damp mess, clothes clinging to him, but none of it dulled the radiance in his wine-red eyes.

"How have you all been?" he asked eagerly, laughing through the moisture in his lashes. "Is everything good? Where's—"

"Are you really Master?" Benedict cut in suddenly, his voice cautious.

Vyan frowned. "Who else do you think, huh?"

Benedict didn't smile. His eyes studied every inch of the young man in front of him.

"There have been impostors," he said at last, voice low, almost apologetic. "People posing as Master Vyan… to claim the bounty placed for his return."

"A bounty?" Vyan laughed, taken aback. "You thought I got abducted or like I got lost?"

"Well," he admitted with a sheepish shrug, "I did get lost. But no kidnappers. That part's on me. It's a long story."

He stepped back slightly, sweeping his arms as if presenting himself. "Look at me, Benedict. Really look. It's me, Vyan. Do you think anyone other than me or Clyde could get past the estate's barrier?"

The old butler's face was unreadable. "The barrier can be tampered with, under the right magical disguises."

Vyan groaned softly and ran a wet hand through his hair. "You really want proof, huh?"

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice to something soft. "Then look into my eyes. You recognized me when no one did. Don't you think I have sincerity in my eyes?"

Benedict's eyes glistened, but he didn't falter. "There is also… shape-shifting magic."

"Oh, come on," Vyan chuckled, a little exasperated now. "Fine. Then look at this pendant. It's engraved with my name. I got it from Iyana, you know? And this earring—" he pulled his hair back to reveal the familiar silver earring— "this was Father's. You handed it to me yourself before I took my place as the Grand Duke of Ashstone."

Benedict squinted, the suspicion slowly melting away, replaced by something dangerously close to hope.

"…What's your favorite food?" he asked at last.

"Chocolate," Vyan answered instantly, a smug little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Benedict didn't react. "And what are you allergic to?"

Vyan's expression turned flat, deadpan. "Cucumber. I almost died when I first arrived here."

At that, the tension finally broke.

Benedict let out a shaky sigh, and his stern expression crumbled into something softer. His eyes shone with tears.

"Oh, Master…" he breathed out. "You're really back. We've waited… for so long."

Vyan's grin widened, his heart warming at the sight. "Yep. I'm back."

Benedict moved forward then. This time, it was Benedict who embraced him, and this time Vyan leaned into it, laughing quietly as he closed his eyes.

Around them, the staff were beginning to stir. One of the maids dropped her tray and burst into tears. Another stood frozen, mouth agape.

And Vyan felt more alive than he had in a long, long time.

Because he was home.

And they remembered him.

And even after all this time, he still had a place for him in this world.

Vyan parted from the hug. "So anyway," he started, his tone a little whiny, "get me a change of clothes quickly. I hate these drenched clothes. And I hate being wet. Plus, I smell like fish. Not even the fresh market kind. The 'been-in-a-net-too-long' kind."

Benedict gave a slow, deadpan nod. "Ah, yes. That was another reason I doubted your identity. You smelled… rather pungently of fish. And I thought to myself, Why would Master ever be near fish? This can't possibly be him. He doesn't even like fish."

Vyan let out a laugh. "Well, unfortunately, I was near fishes. Because I fell into the ocean. For the second time. And some fishermen caught me. Literally. In a net with all kinds of fishes. It's a long story, I'll explain it all later."

He rubbed his temples with a groan. "But right now, I just want to get changed first. Then I'll go see Iyana and Ash. Ash must be in his room, right? I'll see him as soon as I freshen up. And at this time of the day, I suppose Iyana must be at the military quarters. I'll go see her after I eat something, or else, she will scold me. Then I'll drop by Clyde and Althea's. I suppose they've gotten married by now—"

"Master," Benedict interrupted, softly but firmly.

Vyan paused mid-sentence, still bubbling with post-return energy, but something in Benedict's voice made his words falter.

"Master," the older man repeated, a more solemn tone settling in. "You might… want to slow down on all of those things."

Vyan's brow furrowed. His smile faded into confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"

Benedict hesitated.

A knot tightened in Vyan's chest.

"Benedict," he said, a bit more strained this time, "you're really scaring me."

The butler exhaled deeply, as though he were carrying the weight of the last twelve months in that one breath. "Please… you should take a seat first. Sit down."

Vyan didn't move. "Is everyone okay?"

Benedict closed his eyes. "…No, Master. Everyone isn't okay. In fact, nothing is okay."

The words dropped like stones.

Vyan slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the nearest couch, the velvet cushions soft against his soaked clothing, but he barely noticed.

His heartbeat felt louder than anything else in the room.

"What do you mean?" Vyan asked quietly, brows furrowing. "What happened?"

Benedict stood in front of him, hands folded behind his back, as if bracing himself for what had to be said. "Our nation… is at war."