Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

After staggering, they ended up grabbing their stomachs for their dear life as they gasped for more air. Not long enough they dropped to the ground, squirming as they all groaned in deep pain.

All of them, except a few people on Nathalie's end, remain unharmed.

She scoured and they groaned louder while breathing as much as they could.

Not a single moment passed that it got better as they cried out of despair.

Arnold, on the other hand, glanced at Nathalie with a tad scrunch on his forehead. Then he looked at Leigh and the rest of his colleagues, who got deemed safe from harm at the moment, shuddered from the sight.

For they also went through the process: as test subjects before this event. All of which were administered through Arnold's care.

Athan was on the ground, clawing deep as he tried to raise his head from such pain. With gritted teeth and bloodshot eyes, he growled at her, "W— What's the— Meaning of this—?"

His saliva dripped to the side while he's exerting so much of his energy, as though stifling her from his presence. The ground showed cracks from so many dents, and it didn't only come from him but also to those who got affected by the effects.

They all tried to resist its potency, but it was overwhelming them over time.

But it didn't even harm her, not a bit of his power.

Meanwhile, Nathalie didn't respond as she looked at the pocket watch, muttering softly but enough for them to hear, "about 10 more minutes…"

Like doomsday befell upon them, they all went into panic, and they began to roar out loud. 

Charles, out of all men, bellowed from such schemes of her in plain sight. "You damned witch! You really weren't up for good reason!"

She only gave him a cold shoulder— for she cared less of him.

It only enraged him but he only brimmed hatred in silence when Athan spoke once more.

"Don't make me— Do it—"

She then leered at Athan, who was the first to get on his feet.

With his lead, Sylvester followed, and they all tried to resist the effect of the potion.

[Do what?]

Yet it was different from everyone around her.

Especially with the smug smirk that she had.

It became a point of no return when she then responded to them.

A taunt, if they presumed.

[Go on. Get mad.]

They all chorused with great obloquy and slander in her name and character.

"This— witch— never changed!"

"I knew— it! She planned something—!"

"How much— of... Of a fool believing…"

"Guh, hard to… Breathe…"

"Stop! This! Immediately—!" In the midst of his roars, he ended up coughing hard, retching out a black tar now splattered on the floor. 

Everyone went agape from what they witnessed thus far, and Athan was so much at a loss for words that he ended up staring at it and coming back to her several times.

But then, his eyes revealed a glimpse that he got somehow relieved from doing it once.

They tried to get past their limits, clenching their fists and resisting the invisible force that somehow stopped their advances. Slowly, their werewolf features emerged from a partial shapeshifting, howling amidst the dissent.

However, Sylvester commanded, "Let it all out!"

'Hmm, they got it already. That's good.'

They looked at him with confusion clouding their faces; for the Grand Duke fared not as worse as them after all. His countenance showed fatigue but it didn't get the best of him for he glanced at Athan, who seemed to get the gist as well.

He tried to fight back, breathing hard, and he vomited so much of the tar and he didn't stop wiping off the residues in his mouth.

Without further ado, they retched for as much as they could while howling in unison. 

Like they got slapped out of reality, their gazes reflected off hope and went at it for more.

Nathalie almost got hit with a throw-up, it was a good thing she unfurled a scroll, creating a platform of ice, pushing her higher than everybody else.

For Arnold's side wasn't much of a problem as he was better at it preparing.

At this moment, they realized her intention but once they started to purge it out of them, there was no stopping— on their own, they needed to expel it in a given time frame. 

Their veins almost popped, face reddened, and eyes almost rolling out from forcing too much; contrary to their actions, it relieved them from so much pain that they were already building so much tolerance to it ever since.

Right now, in the solemn, ambiance in the lush nature's forestry by the courtyard, beneath it is found a sprawling amount of tar. Turning the floor into a wasteland marsh.

"Mysti! There's still more of it and it's spreading! We need to contain it now!"

[We need open space.]

Nathalie looked around, and the place wasn't suitable for eradicating the way she planned it.

There was still more they could ever throw up; turning how bad their condition had become after staying for so long.

"My Lady, we need fire to clear this up."

[No, not yet; if we're reckless enough, we'll burn everything here to cinders.]

Noticing Athan, who now calmed his breathing as he was on his knees from vomiting, and then wiped his mouth again as he then watched around how worse they've become.

[Athan, I need your help!]

He didn't say a word but replied with a nod.

[Burn it!]

Unsheathing his sword, flames burned bright, and slashing it to the tar caused a burst of flames, cracking and causing shockwaves around them.

But her fears turned into reality when the flames spread as quickly as the tar, but Arnold was quick enough to cast a wall of ice.

Fortunately, the ice turned out sturdy enough to resist it but there were signs of cracks from doing so…

There are still more they need to clean up.

Athan won't be able to last much longer.

'This damn plague… It's worse than I thought…'

Even after reading the changes in the story, she never thought that it would've reached this degree— even posing greater challenges to her part.

Though she wasn't the one to give up without putting up a fight.

[Father, I have a plan!]