Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

A lot of rumbling noise came and assaulted her ear; her frail body trembled every harsh tone they utter. Bruises and deep lacerations spread throughout her arms, across her torso and legs. One could only imagine the grave pain it could bring, but it wasn't; instead, her body went numb as the smooth floor offered nothing but cold.

"Your Majesty! Only but a punishment beyond death would be appropriate for that treacherous woman!"

"How could someone like her dare to do some outrageous moves! Please make your decision. Your Majesty!"

Nathalie was somehow helpless, and she was too dizzy to give a damn about what was about to occur in her surroundings.

'Ugh… Where am I?'

Her eyes drooped so heavily; it was hard to open for a while. She knew she had to muster up the remaining strength she had.

Their incessant roars and anger rose nonstop as something fueled them. Nathalie didn't know where she was, but their voices were all over the place.

Like she was surrounded by them.

'Can't move... My body—Who and what are they talking about?'

She knew that her hands were leashed and kneeled for all she could. Her head swayed slowly but remained upkeep with all of their harsh demeanors.

"Your Majesty, the Grand Duchess of the North, Mystique Blackwell, must be held accountable for all her actions and punish her accordingly!"

'Mystique Blackwell?'

Something in her lit up; she mustered the remaining strength she had upon opening her eyes. There, her gaze greeted the sheen marble floor, going up were several figures, not any different from beautiful deities she could discern, standing beside her.

But she could only gulp hard on her dry throat when their stares held animosity.

'Am I… Mystique Blackwell again? Is this another glimpse of the dream again?'

Even with droopy eyes, she couldn't help but assess the situation she was in.

Their complaints and criticisms were aimed at her, but she still thought how it was getting worse.

This wasn't the first time she experienced as she had this since she was young.

Never did once she really talked about what it was then.

Else, she would have been labeled as a lunatic.

Several scenarios would flash in her dreams, and only then would the sensation lessen if she got to write them until her heart's content.

'Why do I always keep on dreaming with these scenarios so fresh and new? It's speaking to me that I have to write them in the chapters as well—'

"Your Majesty!" A young man's voice roared coldly, shifting his face to the side, talking to the man, who sat lavishly on a golden throne. "I agree that her punishment must be worse than death. Please let your decision be known amongst your loyal subjects."

Nathalie threw a glare at him.

'Those eyes beamed with a gleaming aquamarine hue and a voluminous hair with full fringe and parted two loose locks on the side. Grand Duke Sylvester Salvator.'

Despite her pitiful state, she couldn't help but assess his face from a distance. But she couldn't concentrate when his every word incited anger amongst the loaded crowd.

From the center, Nathalie saw how his finger tapped on the armrest of the throne. The other arm propped his cheek. His ruby eyes leered at her as she was nothing but a piece of garbage. His ebony kempt hair allowed a majestic crown perched atop, gleaming for everyone to revere in his presence.

"Your Majesty, I have a suggestion." Another man stepped forth, gesturing his bow, earning a silence and glance among the audience.

Right then and there, she knew who it was.

'The Crown Prince has stepped on the stage once more.' Nathalie couldn't help but glare at him.

'This situation I am in; I guess I know what it is the moment he made that suggestion now… The long-awaited banishment.'

From his albino features, from the skin to his crimson eyes and ebony hair inherited from his Majesty, the Emperor of the Dysnomia Empire, she knew it was the heir apparent, Prince Athan Vladimir.

"Continue…" The voice, tinged with the icy death of the Emperor, resounded the air; even Nathalie couldn't help but shudder, tensing her muscles. She gazed downward and shut her eyes for good.

"She may have done good deeds, but it should not tantamount for all the loss and misery she had brought upon the Dysnomia Empire, a banishment to the Thousand Isles shall suffice, and not even death can save her from it."

His roaring voice appealed to the noblemen within the Royal Palace, earning a division of opinions; at first, there were a series of mumbles erupted among them, knowing what kind of place that was in there.

'Thousand Isles, wait… I…'

At most, they could only perceive the place where the sun's brilliance couldn't break through the dense clouds of the place. From the edges found whirlpools and walls of tornadoes that span towards the horizon.

For all Nathalie knew, Thousand Isles was the neutral place she wrote as one of the banishment locations in her worldbuilding; many neighboring kingdoms and empires had yet to venture beyond it.

Its location was found several miles away from the Dysnomia Empire's southern borders, but this also worked in their favor. It formed a natural barrier against the enemies who would trek and attack from the south.

The more their arguments went heated; many nobles took their side with Athan as it was no different from their punishments aforementioned. What awaited her in that place was all of the above.

Even if it was a dream, she couldn't help but curb in from their dissent.

Nathalie was always helpless; she could only watch how things unfurl before her.

"Silence!" The Emperor let out a sharp roar, bringing them to utter silence. His gaze turned bright, as red as fresh blood. "I made my decision…"

His voice always made her shoulders quiver, but the last ounce of her strength had her consciousness wane to a distortion she could never decipher; thoughts began to ebb and flowed like tides in the sea, and long before she knew it, her vision collapsed to pitch darkness.