Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 126

Chapter 126: Late
Khaterine lay motionless on the cold stone table, her body convulsing as Zephyrion’s dark energy seeped into her mind like tendrils of ink spreading through the clear water.

Every scream that tore from her throat echoed through the laboratory’s walls, only to be swallowed by the oppressive shadows.

Memories unraveled, twisted, and reshaped with each pulse of dark magic.

The warm laughter of her childhood faded into silence, replaced by the icy voice of Zephyrion whispering into the depths of her consciousness.

“Love is an illusion,” he murmured, his hand cool against her fevered skin.

“They abandoned you. Betrayed you. Richmond left you to suffer while he sought his own salvation. Ahcehera stands only as an obstacle to your power. And Richard… he sees you as nothing but a threat.”

Khaterine’s mind tried to resist, clinging to fragments of a life once filled with warmth and hope.

But the memories were fleeting, like water slipping through her fingers.

The image of Richmond, smiling under the academy’s cherry blossom trees, flickered before her, but then the blossoms withered, and his smile twisted into cold disdain.

“He never loved you,” Zephyrion continued, voice soothing like silk yet laced with venom.

“You were a convenient distraction, a pawn in their endless war. But here, with me, you will be more. You will be power incarnate. You will be the storm that tears their world apart.”

The dark energy pulsing through her veins responded to those words. A deep, guttural sensation of rage stirred in her chest, growing stronger with each passing second.

Images of her past life, the heartbreak, the betrayals, and the endless cycle of sacrifice for others, were erased and replaced by something far darker.

Her eyes snapped open, glowing an ominous shade of crimson. The warmth that once defined her gaze was gone, replaced by an emptiness that stretched endlessly into the void.

The pain in her body dulled, overtaken by a cold strength that coiled like a serpent around her heart.

Zephyrion stepped back, watching with satisfaction as the transformation solidified. The chains binding her wrists shattered with a crackling burst of dark energy.

Khaterine sat up, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her long hair, once chestnut, had turned obsidian black, with streaks of crimson running through the strands like rivers of blood.

Her skin, pale and flawless, now had a faint, ethereal glow reminiscent of moonlight reflected off ice.

“How do you feel?” Zephyrion asked.

Khaterine slid off the table, her bare feet touching the cold stone floor. The sensation was foreign yet familiar, like stepping into a new body that already knew how to move.

She tilted her head and flexed her fingers, dark mist swirling around them. Power crackled in the air around her, resonating with the shadows in the room.

“Empty,” she said, her voice calm but devoid of emotion. “But… powerful.”

Zephyrion’s lips curled into a pleased smile.

“Good. You no longer need their approval. You are reborn, Khaterine. A goddess of entropy, the herald of the end. With your help, we will shatter Agartha and consume the core of Sirius. Life will bow before death.”

She looked at him, and for a moment, there was a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. “And Richmond?” she asked.

Zephyrion’s smile faltered briefly. “He is nothing. A remnant of your weakness. Forget him.”

Khaterine’s expression remained neutral, but a flicker of bitterness stirred within her.

Richmond. The man who had sworn to protect her, who had allowed her to fall into this abyss. The man who, despite his suffering, still haunted her thoughts.

“I will forget him,” she said flatly, turning away to stare at the crimson moon through the window. “He means nothing to me now.”

Zephyrion extended his hand. “Come. Your coronation awaits.”

Khaterine placed her hand in his, and together they walked toward the grand hall of the Devetrinthon fortress.

The hall was vast, with towering columns carved from obsidian stone. Black fire torches lined the walls, casting flickering shadows across the polished floor.

At the center stood a throne made of fused bones, glistening with a faint iridescent sheen. A dozen hooded figures knelt before it, whispering incantations in a language older than time.

Khaterine ascended the steps to the throne. Zephyrion stood beside her, raising his hands to the sky.

The ceiling of the fortress melted away, revealing the blood-red sky of Devetrinthon. The moon above pulsed like a beating heart.

“Behold!” Zephyrion’s voice echoed like thunder. “Khaterine, the Sovereign of Ruin! The Deathborn Queen!”

The hooded figures bowed deeper, chanting her name. “Khaterine… Sovereign of Ruin… Deathborn Queen…”

Dark energy surged from the ground, wrapping around her legs and swirling up her body. The moment it reached her chest, it pierced her heart with a jarring, freezing pain.

She gasped, but did not cry out. The power filled every crevice of her being, solidifying her transformation. Her eyes glowed brighter, and her veins turned jet black beneath her skin.

When the energy receded, she sat upon the throne. The chanting stopped. The hall fell into silence.

Khaterine leaned forward, resting her chin on her knuckles. “My first order,” she said. “Prepare the shadow legions. We’re going to Agartha.”

The hooded figures dispersed immediately to carry out her command.

Zephyrion smiled approvingly. “And what of Richmond?”

Khaterine’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Let him live. Let him see everything he cares for turn to ash.”

Meanwhile, in the forest of Agartha, Richmond staggered as if struck by an invisible blow. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. Ahcehera and Richard rushed to his side.

“What’s wrong?” Ahcehera demanded, panic in her voice.

Richmond’s face twisted with anguish. “Khaterine… she’s changed. She’s not… she’s not the same anymore.”

“Changed how?” Richard asked, crouching beside him.

Richmond shook his head, breathing heavily. “Her presence… it’s cold. Ruthless. She’s… she’s turned into something else. She’s gone.”

Ahcehera’s eyes narrowed. “Zephyrion corrupted her.”

Richard stood, face grim. “Then we have more to fight for than just survival. If Zephyrion has turned Khaterine into a weapon, he’s already begun his war.”

Ahcehera activated her comms device, sending an encrypted message to the Sirius council. “We can’t win this alone. We need reinforcements.”

Richmond forced himself to stand, his hands trembling. The bond he once shared with Khaterine felt like a severed rope, leaving only cold emptiness behind. He clenched his jaw.

“I’ll bring her back,” he whispered. “No matter what it takes.”

Ahcehera placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll try,” she said softly. “But prepare yourself. The woman you knew might be gone forever.”

Richmond stared into the distance, where the crimson moon still faintly glowed beyond the tree line.

“No,” he said. “She isn’t gone. She’s still in there. I can feel it. And if I have to fight through Zephyrion and his entire shadow legion to get her back, I will.”

The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of decay from the west.

The battle for Khaterine’s soul, and for the survival of Agartha, was only just beginning.