Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Take Him (Special Chapter)
Tereza Celestara stood at the edge of the healing chamber, watching the broken body of Alexander Vancial laid upon the pristine bed.

His breathing was shallow, his skin pallid from blood loss, and even in unconsciousness, his fingers twitched as if grasping at something unseen.

Her first thought was cold and detached. He is lucky to be alive after entering the wilderness.

Many before him had tried, and none had returned. The Bianzion Forest did not allow the weak to leave. Yet, somehow, Alexander had crawled back from the abyss of death.

Tereza had been the one to bring him back.

She had found him, barely alive, at the outskirts of the academy grounds, his body riddled with wounds, his face a mask of agony even as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

She had wasted no time, summoning the academy’s best healers and reporting his condition to the Vancial family.

His survival was nothing short of miraculous, yet something unsettled her about his return. The creatures of Bianzion did not simply let go of their prey.

As she observed him from the shadows, her fingers absently trailed over the silver chain around her wrist, the same chain that had once bound the great Abyssal Dragon, her pet, her secret.

No one knew how she had tamed it. No one knew how she had even found it.

Not even the Celestara clan, with all their cosmic magic and foresight, had any record of a beast as ancient and powerful as hers.

Tereza had spent years carefully ensuring that knowledge of the Abyssal Dragon never left her control.

The Bianzion Forest had been its domain for centuries, a place where even the most powerful warriors dared not step.

And yet, she alone could walk among the creatures, untouched and unchallenged.

She had only gone to the outskirts of the forest that day to feed it. She had not expected to find Alexander barely clinging to life, thrown out like a discarded offering.

Something had spared him. But why?

When Alexander finally awakened, his entire body screamed in pain. He gasped, his muscles seizing as he shot upright, heart hammering.

The soft glow of the healing chamber did little to ease the horror that clawed at his mind. He had dreamt of them again. The creatures.

The gnashing of teeth. The guttural roars. The ice-cold hands pulling at his flesh. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory.

Tereza was the first thing he saw when his vision cleared. She stood beside the window, arms crossed, her golden eyes unreadable.

“You’re awake,” she said, voice devoid of emotion.

Alexander struggled to breathe. “I…” His voice cracked, but he forced the words out. “The forest… it… it wanted something from me.”

Tereza tilted her head, watching him carefully. “The fact that you’re alive means it didn’t take what it wanted.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. The nightmares did not stop.

Every night, he was dragged back to Bianzion. Back into the endless maze of twisted trees and starving monsters.

The dream would start the same, his soldiers’ faces, contorted in terror, their blood pooling into the roots of the forest. Then the beasts came, always watching, always waiting.

Then the voices whispered. Come back. Feed us.

Alexander woke in cold sweats each night, the scent of blood and earth lingering on his skin.

But as the days passed, the nightmares turned into something else. An obsession. He had to return.

The idea burrowed into his mind like a parasite, growing stronger with each sleepless night.

At first, he resisted. Why would he go back? He had barely escaped the first time. But the dreams called to him, and soon, he could no longer ignore them.

He ventured to the outskirts of Bianzion once more.

He stood at the treeline, staring into the darkness, his pulse pounding. The air was thick with a presence he couldn’t see, but he could feel it.

They were waiting. That night, when he slept, the voices returned. You came back. You understand now. The next time he entered, he was not alone.

He brought others. Men who had sworn loyalty to him. Warriors who trusted him. He had convinced them it was for a test of courage, a test of strength.

But deep down, he knew the truth. The creatures had demanded a price. And he had paid it. One by one, his men never returned.

Each time he entered, he left fewer behind. The forest consumed them, but in exchange, it let him live.

The creatures no longer chased him. They watched. They waited. They had begun to see him as something more than prey.

Alexander did not know how many men he had lost before he realized the truth. To the creatures of Bianzion, he was no longer just an intruder.

He was a supplier. A bringer of offerings. A harbinger of blood. He had stopped fearing the monsters of the forest. Because he had become one of them.

Alexander stood at the edge of the forest, staring into its endless abyss. The wind carried a whisper, a beckoning call that only he could hear.

It no longer terrified him. Instead, it thrilled him. His hands trembled, not with fear, but with anticipation. He knew what he had to do.

The forest had spared him for a reason. It had chosen him. He had fed it, offered it blood, and in return, it had granted him survival. But survival was not enough. He wanted more.

So he returned, time and time again. Each visit required another sacrifice, another life lost in the endless labyrinth of Bianzion.

His conscience had long since numbed to the cries of his fallen men. Their screams barely lingered in his mind. All that remained was the hunger.

One day, the creatures no longer took his offerings. One day, they bowed. And Alexander Vancial, the last of his bloodline, the forsaken prince, stood among them, no longer prey.

No longer human. But something far, far worse.