Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: VPAA (5)

Richard gritted his teeth, frustration beginning to brew. He pushed harder, weaving through his repertoire of moves, hoping to break through her defenses.

But no matter what he attempted, she remained untouchable, evading him with minimal effort.

Then, in an instant, she vanished from his sight.

The air seemed to ripple as Ahcehera disappeared from her position, leaving Richard momentarily stunned.

Before he could react, a sharp, precise blow landed squarely on his back with such force that it sent him sprawling onto the arena floor.

The room erupted in gasps.

Richard lay on the ground, his body frozen from the impact. His muscles refused to respond, and a dull ache spread through his back.

He tried to push himself up but found himself completely immobilized.

“Game over,” Ahcehera declared coldly, her voice echoing through the hushed arena.

She stood above him, her cape fluttering slightly, her expression as calm as ever. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“You are impulsive and impatient.”

The students were in awe, their mouths agape, as whispers began to ripple through the audience.

“She didn’t even try…” one murmured.

“She’s on a completely different level,” another added, shaking their head in disbelief.

Ahcehera turned on her heel, her back to Richard as she walked to the edge of the ring. Her voice, low and steady, carried across the arena.

“Let this be a lesson,” she said, addressing the room. “Strength and technique mean little if you cannot adapt to the unpredictable.”

With that, she leaped gracefully off the platform, leaving the arena in stunned silence.

“Mr. Mors, do not forget to report to my office as my new assistant next week.”

–

Richard never imagined he’d end up in a hospital bed so soon after the duel, much less in a facility beside the academy.

His body ached from the fierce blow that had rendered him immobile, and he lay staring at the sterile ceiling above him.

What caught him off guard even more was learning that the princess had personally arranged and paid for his treatment.

It was an act he hadn’t expected.

Saving the princess during the Zerg siege was, in his mind, his repayment for what had happened long ago.

But now, as he lay recovering, memories of their first encounter resurfaced, unbidden.

He had been just an inexperienced teenager when it happened. Kidnapped by a ruthless gang of interstellar pirates, he had been taken to a hidden base in the heart of the Capital.

There, he was subjected to cruel experiments, his body was pushed to the brink of collapse. Day after day, he fought to survive, his spirit refusing to give in despite the excruciating pain.

One night, barely breathing and teetering on the edge of death, he thought it was the end. His injuries were severe, his mind hazy from the torment.

He had all but accepted his fate when a figure appeared before him.

Even with his vision clouded and mild blindness setting in, he could feel her presence, strong and unwavering.

Warmth emanated from her, cutting through the suffocating darkness that surrounded him.

Then, she did something he would never forget.

She knelt beside him and placed her hands gently on his chest. A surge of energy flowed into him, filling his battered body with life.

It wasn’t just healing, it was as though she had transferred a piece of herself to sustain him. It was magic, pure and profound.

He had wanted to thank her, but somehow, it was easier to leave than speak. He only remembered her face when he left.

Later, when he returned to the Mors Estate, he recounted the story to his mother.

He had asked if such a thing was possible. If someone could pour their energy into another. His mother’s answer was simple, yet it shook him to his core.

“The one who did that has found their mate,” she had said softly.

Mates. Werewolves were destined to find their other half, the one they were bound to love for the rest of their lives.

Her touch, her presence, lingered in his memory like a gentle whisper.

But when he finally pieced it together and searched for her, he realized it was the princess, Ahcehera Bloodstone, the revelation was like a dagger to his heart.

How could it be her?

The woman who had saved his life was the same person responsible for his eldest brother’s death.

Anger surged within him, and an old wound reopened. The bond fate had forged between them felt like a cruel joke. He could never forgive her, could never accept such a connection.

And so, with bitterness festering in his heart, Richard made his choice.

He rejected the bond.

Even as the memory of her warmth lingered, he vowed to bury it beneath the weight of his hatred.

Richard’s body felt heavy, the lingering pain from the duel pressing into his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake.

As he lay in the hospital bed, his thoughts spiraled back to the Zerg siege.

Why did I save her?

The question had haunted him since that day. Hatred for the princess burned deep in his heart, festering for years like a wound that refused to heal.

Her name was etched into his family’s history with blood, a dark reminder of the brother he had lost.

Riezekiel Mors. The eldest son, the pride of their family, and Richard’s idol.

Riezekiel’s death had shattered their family, leaving scars on their hearts. To Richard, the princess wasn’t just a symbol of power, she was the reason for their suffering.

A woman who had chosen war over peace, leaving nothing but devastation in her wake.

Why did I even follow her?

Yet, when the moment came when he saw her surrounded by the Zerg horde, her mecha battered and on the verge of collapse, his body moved before his mind could catch up.

Richard clenched his fists, the memory was vivid and clear.

He had been monitoring the siege from the sidelines, initially as an observer.

When he recognized her presence on the battlefield, every instinct screamed at him to stay out of it, to let her fall to the creatures she fought so valiantly.

But he couldn’t.

Despite every ounce of anger and hatred he felt toward her, something deeper, something primal, pushed him forward.