Ascension Of The Villain

"Your Grace! Lady Iyana! Are you okay?"

The panicked voices echoed around Vyan, mingling with the buzz in his head from the sudden crash. Darkness enveloped him, shards of debris digging into his skin as he struggled to regain his bearings.

A weight pressed down on him, and a chilling sensation ran down his neck—a thick liquid, far from the rainwater, seeping into his awareness.

Struggling to push the weight off, Vyan's heart pounded as Clyde smashed through the splintered door, flooding the wreckage with blinding light.

Blinking against the glare, Vyan's eyes focused on the limp figure atop him—Iyana, unconscious, blood tracing a sinister path from her head.

Her arms were still wrapped protectively around him, almost as if…

Almost as if she protected me from the impact of the accident—

Now, it came back to him.

When the carriage first gave a jerk, she had moved without thinking and had shielded him with her fast instincts, absorbing the impact with her own body. As a result of that, her slender frame was now a shield shattered by the collision's force.

"Iyana..." Vyan's voice cracked, desperation seeping into his tone as he gently shook her. "Hey, Iyana. Wake up."

There was no response. Panic surged within him, clawing at his throat as he turned to Clyde, his eyes pleading through tears.

"Clyde... help, please," he managed, the weight of guilt and fear threatening to overwhelm him. "Help..."

Clyde snapped out of his shock, his magical abilities flaring to life. With a sudden burst of energy, he unraveled the wreckage, battling against the twisted wooden cage that held them captive.

Once they were brought out, Vyan's eyes darted around the wreckage, heart pounding.

The sight before him was a nightmare. The carriage before them was the first to get toppled, dragging theirs down a small cliff.

Splintered wood and broken bodies lay strewn across the muddy ground. The carriagemen and horses were heavily injured, their groans and whimpers lost in the storm's fury.

Miraculously, Vyan was the least hurt, thanks to Iyana's quick actions.

Rain pounded down, a relentless torrent that made everything slippery and treacherous.

Vyan turned back, eyes searching desperately for Iyana. She was being taken to another carriage for shelter, her face pale and lips tinged with blue.

"Your Grace, you need treatment as well—" Spencer's voice cut through the chaos, but Vyan silenced him with a glare.

"Not me. Iyana needs it first. Get the healing water bottles out," Vyan ordered, his voice tight with urgency.

Spencer hesitated, eyes flicking to the overturned supply carriage. "About that," he started, voice trembling.

"Do you want to say all the bottles got destroyed?" Vyan asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

Spencer's reluctant nod was all the confirmation he needed.

A cold fear gripped Vyan's heart, each beat echoing like a death knell. He sprinted to the carriage where Iyana was taken.

Inside, Clyde was frantically trying to stop the flow of blood from her wounds. A jagged piece of wood jutted from her shoulder, and a nasty gash marred her forehead.

"Clyde, what's the situation?" Vyan's voice cracked, barely audible over the storm.

"I don't know, Vyan. I am trying, but I don't have much medical knowledge. I don't know what to do," Clyde admitted, his hands trembling as he pressed a blood-soaked cloth to Iyana's head. "We need a doctor, and it has to be fast."

"Then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Vyan's voice rose in panic, his eyes wide with fear.

Clyde shook his head, eyes filled with helplessness. "The rain is worse now, and the roads are too slippery. We would be risking another accident."

Vyan's mind raced, desperation clawing at him. He couldn't lose Iyana. Not like this.

He marched over, gently lifting her in his arms, her body limp and unresponsive. A cold dread seized him as he felt the faint warmth draining from her skin.

"Tell me where the medical facility is. I will teleport us there."

Clyde, wide-eyed and pale, took note of Vyan's blood-soaked injuries but didn't dare to stop him. "It should be near this shop called Karen's Boutique in Jimtown," he stammered.

Vyan nodded, channeling his mana, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

In an instant, they were standing in front of the small medical facility. He didn't hesitate. With a force that sent the doors crashing open, he stormed inside, his voice echoing through the sterile halls.

"Is there anybody who can help? There is an accident victim!" he shouted, but his words seemed to vanish into the void.

Panic gripped him as the seconds ticked by in agonizing silence.

A nurse finally appeared, lazily pushing a trolley, her indifferent gaze piercing through the desperate air. "There is only one doctor on standby. No other doctors are present due to the storm. You will have to find another facility."

Vyan saw red at her callous words, fury surging through him. "Bring out the one doctor who is on standby."

"He is resting now—"

"I said bring him out!" Vyan roared, his voice shaking the walls.

The nurse shot him an irritated look and checked his clothes, but there was not much she could guess from his muddied clothes. "Look, sir, I can see you have a patient with you, but you need to keep calm—"

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"Keep what?" he snapped, his voice filled with frustration. "I need to keep calm? Pardon me for not being calm when someone dear to me is dying in my arms as we speak!"

"Sir, if you are going to behave like that—"

"And do you know how you are behaving as a nurse?" Vyan challenged, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made the nurse falter. "Well, since it doesn't seem like you do, I will tell you who I am. Maybe that will get you to behave."

"I don't need to—"

"Vyan Blake Ashstone," he uttered, his voice a deadly whisper. "Have you heard the name?"

The nurse's face drained of color as she finally registered who stood before her. Her blood ran cold, and she stammered, "That's our grand duke." Her eyes locked onto Vyan's fiery red gaze, realization dawning. "I will call the doctor right away!" She fled, disappearing into the doctor's chamber.

Another nurse approached, her demeanor professional and urgent, even without knowing Vyan's identity, and began to move Iyana to a ward.

Vyan followed, his heart in his throat, as he gently laid Iyana down on the bed. The nurse quickly started to stem the bleeding, her hands moving with practiced precision.

"She has lost too much blood already," the nurse remarked grimly. "Was your wife in a carriage accident, sir?"

Vyan nodded, his lips trembling, unable to register the nurse's assumption about their relationship.

All he could see was the pale, lifeless face of the woman he once loved, and the haunting possibility that he might lose her forever. Just because she was ready to sacrifice her life for him.