A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

["Our encounter is surely the work of fate."]

Fate... the work of fate.

Indeed, if fate wishes to forge a new kingdom, a new world, then... compared to those four heroines, am I not a more fitting choice?

Possessing knowledge from another world, ideas from another world, loathing the stagnant and rigid empire, its institutions, thoughts, concepts... I, who can scarcely tolerate any backward aspect of this society, harbored a burning ambition to change the empire before gaining memories of this world. Am I not the most suitable person?

If I could change this world, what would it matter to overcome the four heroines? If I could do better than the four heroes, would fate not cast its favoring gaze upon me, and would that not be acceptable to fate?

But while fate could accept, and would gladly accept, Ansel would not, could never accept.

In the increasingly torrential rain, Ansel said to his friend:

"There is no contradiction between it and me, Venna."

"It is an impasse."

His voice was colder than the rain splashing upon Ravenna, more ferocious than the roaring thunder.

The young demon, who had struggled in despair for years, revealed to his friend the rage and hatred that had seeped into his bones and etched into his soul:

"Between that so-called new world and me, only one can exist!"

He is Ansel of Hydral, the puppeted Ansel of Hydral; the Ansel of Hydral who has witnessed his own dismal future; the Ansel of Hydral who watched his father's rapid descent into the abyss and grew increasingly mad; and... the Ansel of Hydral who watched his mother die in his arms.

He will not tolerate any of his actions to facilitate the whims of fate; he will not allow himself to be a fawning hound, realizing its purposes under its favor and grace.

He will not... he will not allow the vision that fate desires to have any chance of realization, no matter how much he loathes this malformed empire, no matter how much he scorns the laughable codes of the nobility, no matter that he too once... fantasized about that beautiful vision and toiled day and night for it.

In that moment, Ansel realized, from that day forward, his considerations would no longer be merely about prolonging his life, changing that ending, but truly... challenging that damned fate that seeks to destroy his life and yet presumptuously use him!

—Anything that fate desires, is what I seek to annihilate.

If fate wishes to let this deformed, fallen, twisted, chaotic, evil empire be destroyed, to create a progressive, just, bright, orderly, good new world, to free this world from millennia of stagnation—

Then I... shall ensure this empire stands tall in its prime for thousands of years to come, even if it means plunging the world into an eternal, silent hell!

In the torrential rain, Ravenna's fingertips trembled slightly.

She gazed at the blurred visage of her friend through the curtain of rain. Despite the surreal obscurity, Ravenna discerned the extreme distortion, the... frenzied ferocity.

Ansel... why has it come to this?

The fierce mental onslaught paradoxically left Ravenna devoid of panic or fear; she felt only... bewildered.

An incomprehensible bewilderment.

—Who could understand? Your closest friend, your most intuitive companion, with whom you've discussed and envisioned the future countless times, now reveals such a demonic hatred towards your shared ideals.

"So—"

Ansel smiled again, as if his previous rage and madness had never existed: "Tell me, Venna, as my friend, which do you truly... choose?"

He watched Ravenna, observing his friend silent in the downpour, her complexion growing increasingly pale, her breathing more rapid, like someone drowning in the rain.

"...Reason."

After what seemed an eternity, Ravenna, who had been looking down, slowly lifted her eyes.

There were no hysterical arguments, no shouts of "Why!"; no ridiculous self-deception, no claims of "You're still lying to me, aren't you?"

She simply asked, in a hoarse, eerily calm, and numb voice... for a reason.

"Reason... ah."

Reason...

Ansel gazed at Ravenna's purple eyes, turbulent behind the veil of rain, his lips trembling slightly.

He had a thousand ways to make Ravenna believe his words, to believe in fate, he feels... if he wanted Ravenna to make a choice, he indeed needed to give her a reason.

Only by making Ravenna truly understand his predicament will she see him as anything other than a betrayer.

But as Ansel prepared to reveal the greatest secret of this world to Ravenna, all words choke in his throat.

A startling thought, like lightning, cleaved into the mind of thirteen-year-old Hydral.

Venna... will she choose to understand my predicament?

Or... follow… fate?

If one wishes to gain another's trust in this manner, it must be someone who has endured endless suffering under fate's design, someone who would not have experienced such despair but for the needs of fate.

But if Ravenna Ziegler, this exceptionally brilliant genius, this stubborn idealist, becomes aware of fate's existence, would she really... rise in rebellion?

No... she would not, because what fate intends to realize is precisely what she pursues.

She would not only refrain from rebelling but would also revel in the fact that the vision she anticipates becomes "destined."

Is the realization of this ideal worth the sacrifice of the Tower of Babel? No, Ravenna, knowing the details, could deduce what fate aims to achieve. She could make more meticulous arrangements, even manage to avoid the collapse of the Tower of Babel, just like... what Ansel is doing.

In the midst of the torrential downpour, a bewildered thirteen-year-old boy, under the sudden, thunderous realization, understood one thing:

Revealing the truth to Ravenna would not garner her assistance.

Instead, it would irrevocably turn her into his adversary.

Idealists, upon learning that their ideals could become reality, inevitably align themselves with those who can actualize these ideals.

It was like when I had spoken of abandoning my ideals; her anxiety stemmed not from losing a friend, but from losing a… supporter.

As if, at this moment, she was not genuinely inquiring about my hardships but was instead coldly demanding… reasons from me.

So it was.

From the beginning, Venna was never going to be my friend.

"Reasons... do not exist."

Ansel slowly clenched his scepter, yet with a leisurely and casual tone, he chuckled, "No reasons, Venna, no reasons!"

His laughter grew louder, as if to mask something, bursting into uproarious laughter: "No reasons!"

"...What are you hiding, Ansel?"

The petite woman in the storm took a step forward, her voice piercing through Ansel's facade as it rose sharply: "Don't try to deceive me! If you want answers from me, give me a reason first!"

Thud!

The scepter struck the ground forcefully, halting Ravenna's advance.

Reasons... reasons.

Not hardships, not predicament, but reasons.

Ansel tugged at the corner of his mouth, still smiling, "I said, there are no, reasons."

"You clearly—"

"No reasons, so you can't give answers?"

He spread his hands, "Then let me ask differently, dear Venna—the most direct, the most straightforward way."

"Haven't you always wanted to be my pact head? The terms are very simple, just subordinate your ideals to my existence."

"If I command you to do something, even if it threatens your ideals, you must execute it without hesitation—can you do that?"

"..."

Ravenna fell silent, her pale, bloodless face devoid of any expression.

This silence was her answer.

"Then, let's be even more straightforward."

"I never intended to realize those so-called ideals; on the contrary, I want to stop them, I want... to destroy them."

In that moment, Ansel felt Ravenna's gaze upon him, filled with astonishment, fury, and disbelief.

"You said... what!" Ravenna's hoarse voice squeezed through her clenched teeth.

"You see, you see, Venna, at this time, you don't need reasons any more."

Ansel laughed loudly: "Now you don't even need any rationality, don't need me to provide counter-reasons, to so vividly regard me as..."

"An enemy."

Slowly, expressionlessly uttering these two words, Ansel no longer needed to hear a definite response from Ravenna, for he already knew the answer.

An answer that made him grateful he had not recklessly revealed the "truth" to Ravenna.

She was indeed... the person I had thought.

"Do you know why there are no reasons? Because everything we've experienced during this time is all..."

As Ansel received his answer from Ravenna's silence, he laughed freely as if liberated: "My lies."

He leisurely twirled his scepter: "I admire your talent, I need your talent, you should have been my first pact head, you should have been."

Under Ravenna's stunned gaze, the young Hydral sighed softly: "It's just that your commitment to that ideal... exceeded my expectations.

"You cannot place anything above me."

His voice was cold, his gaze indifferent, like a sovereign looking down upon a rebellious subject.

"I intended to tame you with gentle means, to become your friend, to assist you, to be the only companion in your lonely world... I thought you would cherish me, you would need me, I could become the most important existence in your life."

"But I was wrong." Ansel shook his head, "I was too naive, naive to think that just this bit of 'companionship' would make you care about me, value me, until it surpassed that ideal."

"But the truth proves... I can never achieve this. Because you live for that ideal, Venna."

The young devil's eyes, stripped of all warmth, flickered with a cruel, cold light.

"You must... be destroyed, remade." He murmured in a voice only he could hear, "To get the you I want."

In this torrential downpour, close friends, companions in arms, just looked at each other like this.

Neither could see even a hint of pleading or concession in the other's eyes.

"So all of this, was a lie?"

Ravenna's voice was very soft, so soft it seemed it could be shattered by the raindrops.

"Yes, it was all lies, Venna."

Ansel nodded slightly: "From now on, we are no longer friends."

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