Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 233

Chapter 233: Consumed by Darkness (5)

The mecha stood tall, gleaming under the fractured light of the dusk sky, its obsidian plates humming with latent power. Rohzivaan moved beside it like a shadow, his commands no longer spoken aloud but pulsed through thought and soul.

The machine responded as if it were an extension of his body, twisting, bending, and shifting its weight without the need for a driver. With or without him inside, it obeyed. No longer just a weapon, it had become a vessel of his will, a silent sentinel forged by pain, obsession, and purpose.

Fiorensia watched with a sharp gleam in her eye, a rare flicker of something resembling pride beneath her stoic exterior. She did not wait to congratulate him. There were no words of praise. Only the sudden rush of flame, the echoing clash of power as she launched into a full-scale attack without warning.

This time, she wasn’t holding back. The moment the mecha moved aside, Rohzivaan met her head-on, barehanded, no armor, no hesitation. A dance of violence erupted between them, lightning-fast strikes, magical bursts tearing through the atmosphere, sweat flinging off their bodies as steel clanged against raw energy.

Each clash of their power shook the stone beneath their feet. This wasn’t a spar; it was war. Rohzivaan bled early. Fiorensia struck him in the ribs, her demonic energy cracking bone. He didn’t fall. She hurled him across the field, and he landed hard, coughing blood. He stood again. Again and again. Through broken limbs and shredded skin, he rose.

Fiorensia’s attacks only grew more brutal, yet Rohzivaan pushed back harder. His movements weren’t just fast. They were precise, calculated. He no longer faltered, no longer second-guessed. The look in his eyes was not the gaze of someone merely desperate to grow stronger. There was a depth there, a familiarity that unsettled Fiorensia even as she fought.

Nearby, Richmond stood silently on the rocky slope overlooking the battlefield, arms crossed loosely, wind tugging at his cloak. His eyes, once sharp with judgment, were now dulled with weariness. He no longer held a title. The dukedom had been dissolved after the fallout. His council replaced. His lands were taken. And for the first time in his life, he was free.

But that freedom tasted bitter. With nowhere to go, nothing to rule, he had drifted into this valley where his mother and brother clashed like storm gods. He had told himself he was here to watch, to learn something from them, but deep down, he had simply wanted to see if Rohzivaan would survive.

But it wasn’t just Rohzivaan anymore. That realization hit Richmond like cold steel pressing to the back of his neck. He watched his “brother” move, ducking beneath Fiorensia’s spell with the fluid grace of someone who used to spar with him in childhood, not as Rohzivaan, but as someone else.

He remembered it vividly now, the peculiar way he adjusted his stance before a jump, the slight curve of his fingers when casting shadowfire, the way his left leg always stepped a half-inch wider than needed. These weren’t Rohzivaan’s traits. They were someone else’s.

They were Riezekiel’s. The twin who had died. The twin whose soul had vanished. Richmond’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t thought about Riezekiel in years, at least not deeply. He had buried those memories beneath duty, expectations, and the chaos of surviving.

But now, they rushed back all at once, laughter beneath the starlight, arguments over sword forms, the last time he saw both twins together before everything shattered.

“That’s not him,” he whispered to no one, eyes locked on the figure sparring with their mother. “That’s not Rohzivaan.”

And then the question crept into his mind, curling like smoke.

When did it happen?

When did his brother begin moving like someone else? When did the shift in tone, the sharper clarity, and the colder decisions begin? Was it during the ritual to sever the bond with Ahcehera? Was that the moment Riezekiel slipped into the void Rohzivaan had carved out of his soul? Or had he been there longer, watching, waiting, fusing?

Richmond’s hands clenched, his pulse pounding. He couldn’t breathe right. He couldn’t look away. And then, on a day when Fiorensia’s blow sent Rohzivaan sprawling backward, Richmond descended the slope.

The winds howled. Dust swirled between them. Rohzivaan slowly pushed himself up, blood on his lip, power crackling at his fingertips. Fiorensia stood back, chest heaving slightly, eyes narrowed in silent judgment.

“Riezekiel,” Richmond called, his voice quiet but unmistakable. The warrior on the ground stilled. His head turned slightly, one shoulder lifting in confusion. But only for a breath. Then he faced Richmond fully, no anger, no denial. Only recognition.

“You remember,” he said simply, as if they had just reawakened a forgotten conversation.

“So it’s true,” Richmond murmured. “It’s you. You’re him.” Rohzivaan, no, Riezekiel, nodded.

“I came back. Rohzivaan’s body… it was open. Hollowed by his pain. His soul frayed from tearing the bond. I slipped in. At first, we coexisted. Now…” He trailed off, letting the rest hang. Richmond took a shaky step forward.

“And Rohzivaan? Is he still in there?” Richmond knew his brother was lying. So, he existed in this body longer…

“Parts of him,” Riezekiel said, looking down at his hands. “I kept what mattered. His memories. His resolve. But this body… It’s mine now. As it should’ve been.”

“You were supposed to be gone,” Richmond whispered. “Dead.”

“Death is never the end for those of us bound to fate,” Riezekiel replied, and there was no arrogance in his tone, only a haunting truth. “You should hate me,” he added after a beat, eyes narrowing. “You’ve always been the brother who saw too much.”

Richmond didn’t respond immediately. He stared at him, at the unfamiliar familiarity in his twin’s face. The gestures were the same, yet entirely different. He remembered Riezekiel’s calm anger, his focused cruelty when pushed too far, the way he always saw the world two moves ahead.

“I don’t hate you,” Richmond finally said, voice hoarse. “I just don’t know what you want.”

Riezekiel’s expression darkened. “To finish what I started. Ahcehera’s fate is tied to all of us. And the demon gods won’t stop with her. You’ll see it soon enough. I’m here because I must be. This time, no one will interfere. Not even fate.”

Fiorensia remained silent throughout, her gaze unreadable. Perhaps she had known all along. Or perhaps, like Richmond, she had simply trained the soul that answered the call. As Riezekiel turned away, rejoining the mecha that responded to his thoughts like a loyal beast,

Richmond felt the world shift beneath him. The brother he had mourned was back. The one he had known all his life was gone. And the war, it seemed, was only just beginning.