Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

Despite the chilly breeze that blew against Athan's face amidst the bright night sky, his forehead broke out of sweat.

Earlier, the only time he got on the bed and supposedly enjoyed the time with the debauchery, he was already watching all of the episodes of a theater presentation. Usually, he wouldn't give a damn about it, but his mind wandered already, across his chaotic thoughts that determined not only his future but his empire.

'I've won the war, but at what cost?'

It was a Pyhrric Victory.

'I'm here once again, but just what happened after the celebration?' His gaze now landed on the garden, vast and filled with greenery. 'Something is telling me again…'

Dread spread throughout his spine every time he thought about it.

For him to come back for the second time in his life, all he thought was something he could've done better this time around.

But out of all the thoughts that came to mind, it was the noble lady that somehow changed him ever since.

Athan was so preoccupied with his thoughts he didn't notice Sylvester catching up to him. His gray vintage tailcoat altogether with his silver linings and gold accessories adorned him now dangled ever-so-freely into thin air.

When he reached the balcony, he leaned his arm by the wall, panting hard from all the rush.

"You-You're crazy..." he called, still breathing hard in-between as he pointed at him. "Did you—forget we're about—to celebrate today for our grand victory?"

Even after Sylvester's reprimand, the man in front of him remained quiet. He waited for a while until he could no longer stand his silence, prompting him to open his mouth.

But he got caught off guard from his utterance, like how sporadic the prince was then.

"You forgot to retract your tail," Athan said without looking back.

"...I was in a hurry!"

"What date is it?"

"1st of January—"

"Grand victory, eh?"

"Indeed."

Athan then turned around and said, "So, which part did we win?" Boring his stares deep at him, which made him respond with hesitation.

"... Foremost, nothing would stop us from now on. We already removed most of our enemies out of the way, Mystique included—"

"Ahh!" His eyes began to glisten, but he cleared his throat and squinted his eyes for a while. "Where is she?"

"Have you lost your mind after a few rounds of sodomy?" Seeing his crimson eyes gleamed, he scratched his head in turn. "Perhaps the drugs and too much of a liquor that I brought hit you harder than I thought. But let me tell you this."

"Go on."

Sylvester came closer; he cracked his knuckles and then to his neck, tugging his ascot necktie to a firm position. "She's done for good; there's no way in hell she'd rise once more. Even with Arnold Blackwell's power, she can't be spared."

Just his brief statements were enough to rile up the emotions that laid dormant for quite some time.

Utterance of Arnold's name almost brought the worst out of him; if not only for his years of being able to manage his emotions out of impulsivity, then he might've burned this hall to cinders and charcoals—a living hell.

With a pat on his shoulders, he snapped out from his wicked thoughts.

"You've gone crazy. Look at what you've done." Sylvester sighed as he peered at the rails now filled with soot and on a craggy exterior, losing its sheen and smooth carvings.

Athan looked at Sylvester—from head to toe—with a couple of nods; he then beckoned at him, "Things are far from over."

"...Pardon?"

"Come with me, and this isn't just my business now that I think about it." Athan brisked his way downstairs, looking for an exit within the hall.

Meanwhile, Sylvester jerked his head to the side, shrugging out of disappointment; nevertheless, he still followed him closely.

"Here we go again, and it's been a while something could rile you up." He then took his time stepping down with each step. "Is it a premonition again?"

Athan stopped after he reached the split landing of the grand staircase; he couldn't help but scoff at his sharp intuition. "You catch on quickly."

"Of course; this isn't the first time I saw you become erratic, a grave one at that. When it happened, things began to change according to your favor. Shouldn't be any different this time."

The crown prince continued his treads after smirking at him. "Then, speak no more from now on; you'll just turn it to a curse and bite us in the ass."

"Seriously," Sylvester groaned. "So, what do you have in mind? Say a word, and I shall do it."

"Let's take this route first, so no one would notice our presence." Athan pointed out the direction that was beyond the garden.

Among the pathways in the garden found tall arrays of tailored hedgerows that served as a channel to important destinations within the imperial capital without garnering attention among the nosy nobles.

As such, only a few nobles of high standing could get access to such.

On their way, they found several outposts with imperial guards on their shift—astute and steadfast with their job—every single one of them paid respects to them both and moved right along.

There were also familiars: big and fierce monsters stationed and wandered around the place. Sylvester's face beamed when there was a chimera coming his way with playful trots.

"Come now; we don't have much time, Matthew. Do the pats next time," he hissed.

"Your other owner seemed to have period cramps at the moment. I'll see you soon." Sylvester broke free and bid farewell, then gulped hard from his cold glare.

They have been walking for a while, but his face bereft of vigor when it was a path that was uncommon to tread.

The Imperial Palace.

Sylvester's eyes widened. "Stop right there!" He reached for his shoulder, also surprised to know he didn't need much force to get his attention. "Didn't we just get there and appealed to His Majesty about your proposition?!"

"No, this is different."

"Then what—?"

"It's who…" From Sylvester's quizzical look again, Athan muttered, "Who's making a fuss there right now?"

"Arnold—But why?!"

"We need to stop him."

Now, Sylvester got himself rooted and stared at him in disbelief.

"No! You're just high and all. Brain must be too mushy; even a turd would pale in comparison." He tried to drag Athan back to their tracks when they overheard a familiar voice.

Speaking of the devil…

"My Mysti is alive?!"