Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 234

Chapter 234: Consumed by Darkness (6)

The transformation was subtle at first, a flicker of tone in his voice, the set of his jaw, the quiet intensity in his stare, but soon, it became undeniable.

Day by day, the Rohzivaan that Richmond once knew disappeared beneath the guise of someone else until there was nothing left but a haunting resemblance, not of a brother remembered but of a soul thought long gone.

The shadows clung more tightly to him now as if they knew their true master had returned. His gait, once uncertain in the early days of training, now carried the precise confidence of a seasoned warrior.

Even the war machine, towering and black as night, seemed more alive in his presence, responding to every unspoken command like a loyal hound bowing to its creator. And then, without warning, he made the decision.

One quiet morning, as the mist still hung low over the training field and the mountains echoed the distant cries of winged beasts, Rohzivaan stood before Fiorensia and Richmond, his face unreadable, his black hair pulled into the sharp style that once belonged to another.

His robes were no longer layered and worn with uncertainty, they were crisp, elegant, and adorned with the silver sigil of the House of Mors. And then he spoke. “From this day forward,” he said, his voice resonant and sharp like the clang of a blade against steel, “I will no longer answer to the name Rohzivaan. My name is Riezekiel Mors.”

The wind stirred around them, almost as if the world itself responded. Richmond stared at him, throat tight, struggling to align the truth with what he saw. It wasn’t just the name. It was the presence, the conviction, the unbearable familiarity that pressed on every nerve in his body.

This was not the younger brother who once clung to his every word, desperate for approval, desperate for love. This was the twin who used to challenge him in every debate, who walked into rooms and made people fall silent with a look. Riezekiel had returned, not as a phantom memory, but in the flesh, in will, in soul. And now, he had claimed his identity fully.

Richmond wanted to speak, to protest, to call him mad, but no words came. How could he deny what stood before him when even the air around Riezekiel pulsed with the old magic that used to echo through the halls of their ancestral home? So, he said nothing. And Riezekiel nodded, as if that silence was the only acknowledgment he needed.

The days that followed were relentless. Fiorensia, ever the harsh mentor, did not question the change. She demanded more of him. More speed. More strength. More magic. And Riezekiel delivered.

He didn’t just meet her expectations, he shattered them. Richmond watched their spars grow in ferocity. Where once Fiorensia had to pull her punches to avoid maiming her son, she now fought with everything she had. Their clashes thundered across the valley, sparks raining down like fireflies from the sky.

Riezekiel moved with terrifying precision, his counters were effortless, his attacks brutal, his instincts flawless. He wielded demonic arts that should have taken years to master, yet they flowed from his fingertips as if he were born to them.

Richmond tried to follow every movement, but his eyes couldn’t keep up. The distance between them, the one he had spent a lifetime trying to close, now stretched farther than ever. He was no longer watching a boy grow. He was witnessing a force emerge.

In one particularly brutal session, Fiorensia launched a barrage of flame and frost, designed to fracture bone and scorch skin. But Riezekiel didn’t dodge. He met it head-on, conjuring a shimmering black shield from pure shadow. The spell absorbed the full brunt, then rippled outward, dispersing into a thousand fragments of light. And when he countered, it wasn’t just magic, it was defying answer.

He summoned chains from the earth, blades from the air, and darkness from the skies. Fiorensia was pushed back, not because she was weak, but because for the first time in years, someone had forced her to retreat.

Richmond could hardly breathe. He stood there, fists clenched, heart pounding as he tried to understand how his world had shifted so completely. It was only yesterday, wasn’t it?

When Rohzivaan struggled to cast a stable spell. When he would look to Richmond for reassurance, for guidance. But now, there was none of that. There was only Riezekiel, standing amidst the fading magic with his chest rising steadily, eyes burning with something older than rage, a purpose.

After the spar, Fiorensia walked away without a word. She didn’t congratulate him. She didn’t speak of progress. But there was a brief glance, subtle and fleeting, that spoke volumes. Respect. Acceptance. Richmond remained, unmoving, staring at the cracked ground where Riezekiel had stood.

The older twin, no, not older anymore, not truly, approached him slowly. “You saw it,” Riezekiel said. “Didn’t you?”

Richmond turned his gaze to him, eyes narrowed. “I saw you win. That’s all.”

“No,” Riezekiel said, shaking his head slightly. “You saw what I’ve become. What I was always meant to be. You saw the truth.”

“What I see is a stranger wearing my brother’s skin,” Richmond replied coldly. “You’re not him. Rohzivaan had hope. He had a heart. You… you have hunger.”

Riezekiel didn’t flinch. “Hope is a luxury for the powerless. And heart?” He touched his chest briefly. “I gave it away the moment the world tore ours apart.”

“You don’t get to erase him,” Richmond growled. “He still lives. Somewhere inside you, he lives.”

“Maybe,” Riezekiel admitted. “But he’s no longer the one in control. And he’s no longer needed. I will do what he could not. I will protect what he couldn’t. I will destroy what destroyed us.”

“At what cost?” Richmond whispered. “What will be left when you’re done?”

Riezekiel’s gaze turned cold. “Whatever survives. That will be enough.” With that, he walked away, each step echoing through the silent field.

Richmond stood alone once more, his thoughts a hurricane of disbelief and sorrow.

Riezekiel Mors had returned, not through miracle, not through resurrection, but through the sacrifice of a brother who had once carried too much grief for one soul to bear. And now, with every passing day, that soul receded further into the abyss, replaced by a man driven not by love, but by the burning clarity of vengeance.

Zeke, I know you love her the most, too. We all do.