A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

The oppressive terror within the Nostrom has inexplicably dissipated, leaving this vast alchemical fortress seemingly deserted, devoid of any living presence.

Ansel placed his hand on the doorknob, beyond which lay a place he had not set foot in for six long years.

"..."

Click.

With a calm expression, the young man pushed open the door and stepped into the light screen, arriving at a place he could never forget—a sea of flowers.

Amidst the seemingly endless array of vibrant blooms stood a wooden cabin, with a long swing hanging outside.

Nothing had changed; time appeared to have frozen six years ago, in the blissful days when Ansel was unaware of the world's harsh truths.

The young Hydral walked slowly through the vast sea of flowers towards the humble cabin.

His pace was slow, as if trudging through mud, despite the soft and colorful flowers beneath his feet.

His thoughts tormented him almost to madness along the way.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

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If fate denies me that power, then I must obtain it.

...No, but wait, fate must know I've always harbored this thought. If I do this, could it be part of its plan?

What will become of me if I proceed? Will I become heartless and monstrous? Will Seraphina betray me because of this?

No, no... perhaps fate wants me to think this way, so instead I should—

Ansel's breathing grew heavier, the darkness in his eyes becoming more pronounced. It was only when he reached the cabin that he managed to calm himself, steadying his breath before gently pushing the door open.

The interior of the cabin was simple and unadorned, yet this simplicity, combined with some playful trinkets and the light yellow of the raw wood, made the cabin incredibly cozy.

The young man walked quietly through the cabin, his hand brushing against the walls and furniture. Everything, from the family portrait to the small toys Flamelle had made at young Ansel's request, remained intact and dust-free in their original places.

He then ascended to the second floor, first entering his own bedroom. After lingering for about five or six minutes, he emerged and stood at the door of Flamelle and Annelisa's bedroom.

He stood there for a long time before finally, ever so gently, as if afraid of disturbing those inside, he pushed the door open and entered.

The furnishings and furniture inside were exactly the same… as the space where Flamelle had created.

However, this place had a much stronger sense of life. Moreover, Annelisa was not lying in a crystal coffin but on a soft bed, her expression gentle and serene in slumber.

Ansel quietly approached the bed, kneeling beside it, his hands clenched into fists on the edge of the bed, gazing at his mother.

At this moment, Annelisa seemed more alive than ever before, even though she was clearly asleep. Her breathing, her warmth, were all so real.

Because this was real; the one sleeping here was his mother, Annelisa Delian herself.

Even though Annelisa was annihilated by Ansel, sinked in the abyss six years ago, leaving no trace of her existence, it is indeed her who lies here in slumber.

The young Hydral clasped his mother's hand, pressing her hand against his forehead. At this moment, he shed all his grandeur and intimidating presence, kneeling by his mother's bedside, feeling her warmth.

From the haggard, pale face he saw at birth, to the playful smile when he gained wisdom, to the coquettish and mischievous demeanor as he grew, to the gentle expression he could always rely on, and finally... her dissolution into nothingness.

Ansel held Annelisa's hand, his forehead pressed against her hand, slowly, deeply, unwilling to miss any detail... reminiscing about the past he spent with his mother and father.

"Help me... mother."

After this faint whisper, all that remained was an interminable silence.

The silence was so prolonged that the sound of soft footsteps approached from outside, and a man appeared at the doorway, quietly gazing at them.

Ansel, already aware of his arrival, gently placed his mother's hand down and turned to look at the man standing at the door.

"Let's go out first."

Flamelle of Hydral smiled lightly, his voice soft, "Don't disturb your mother."

Ansel nodded silently and followed Flamelle outside.

The father and son, who seldom saw each other, stood in the flower field, one gazing tenderly at his wife's figure through the window, the other standing still, staring at his father's face.

"Anna should fully awaken in four to five years."

Flamelle smiled, "By then, she will remember everything. Don't let her be too heartbroken."

"...I thought you would choose to make her forget."

"It's too difficult. If I could, I would want to do that too."

Flamelle shook his head, "During the reconstruction process... Anna's soul is too fragile. I can't take any risks, and if I simply erased her memories, with Anna's character and abilities, she would eventually find them again."

"So," the man smiled freely, "you must comfort her, stay with her, protect her, understand?"

Ansel lowered his head, answered with a slightly hoarse voice, "I understand, father."

Flamelle's miraculous method of creating a soul identical to the original from soul fragments… was definitely not prepared for Ravenna.

From the beginning, this technique was meant to resurrect Annelisa.

But the original Annelisa had been completely obliterated by the abyss Ansel summoned, leaving not even fragments... not even particles. How could she be resurrected?

The answer is simple.

It lies within… Flamelle's own soul.

The Head of Soul, by intertwining her soul with Hydral's, maximized Hydral's resistance against the abyss's erosion. A part of her soul had already merged with Hydral's soul, inseparable.

This part of the soul could even ensure that if the Head of Soul encountered an accident, it could still slow down the erosion to some extent.

And the soul fragments needed to resurrect Annelisa... came from the part of Flamelle's soul… that was once inseparably connected with Annelisa.

He shattered, cleaved, and stripped away... his very soul.

This is the truth behind Flamelle's rapid descent over six years to a level of corruption nearly equal to that of the Empress.

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