The Villainous Me Turned the Losers into Blackened Bosses-Chapter 93 - The Demon’s Favor

“Entark… First Form: Lift…”

Beside Will, Eugenie sat stiffly, watching the scene on stage with beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

Others might not have noticed…

But after a brief pause, Treya had completely broken free from the rudimentary sword techniques she had been performing earlier!

She spun around, her movements so fluid that even her shadow seemed to twirl with her.

The gentle upward flick of her sword left a faint afterimage.

It was unmistakably the Entark First Form.

And…

The sheer force behind her strikes, the fiery determination in her movements—it was as if her anger was searching for a target to unleash upon.

Even more terrifying…

Eugenie could feel the demonic power within her, the power of Demon Swordsmanship, beginning to drain away.

She clenched her fists, her entire body tense.

The demon’s power was finite. When it was bestowed upon someone else…

Her own share would…

Slowly fade away.

—

“What… should I do?”

After witnessing the “possible future” shown to her by the demon, Treya seemed like a different person.

She stood tall before the demon, her sword now sheathed.

“Or rather, what do you want me to do?”

The demon turned around.

Then twisted its head in an unnervingly unnatural way to look back at her.

But Treya, oddly enough, didn’t find it strange. She remained eerily calm.

“This is your heart. Ah, a heart completely black. Your world seems quite unique, so I’ve tailored an endpoint just for you—reach it, and you’ll obtain the power I grant to the Entark family, power enough to ascend the highest throne.”

“An endpoint?”

Treya looked up.

Where there had been nothing but endless darkness, something now glowed faintly in the distance.

The black liquid beneath her feet seemed to flow from that direction.

“Follow me. Walk toward it, and you’ll naturally receive the power of the demon recognized by the Entark family—the power to claim the throne.”

The demon gestured for Treya to lower her sword.

Then, it reached out and took her hand.

Pulling her forward.

“If this is my heart, as you say…”

Treya shook off the demon’s hand with visible disdain, rejecting its unwarranted closeness.

“Why is it black?”

“Ah… why indeed?”

The demon spun in a circle.

Although it looked as though its head and body were spinning in opposite directions—Treya hoped that was just her imagination.

“Why not answer this first: what is color…”

With a flick of its finger, the demon conjured an image of Treya’s beloved teddy bear.

“What is color, exactly?”

Treya followed the demon as it walked forward.

“Color… things that are colorful…”

She had realized it that night when she saw the glow on Dada’s neck…

“The goals I’m willing to chase…”

“The dreams I want to achieve…”

“The things I refuse to let go of…”

“The things I believe I can obtain…”

“And…”

“My desires.”

The demon nodded approvingly.

Where its pale feet stepped, small puddles formed in the black liquid.

In one such puddle, the image of Eugenie appeared, her red hair vivid against the darkness.

“The half-elf princess, in her purest moments, once admired her sister, yearning for the strength of her shadow.”

“And now… do you still want that?”

Treya walked past, her boots disturbing the puddle.

It dissolved into blackness.

The demon extended its hand again, painting a patch of blue sky in the air.

There stood her aging father.

“The half-elf princess, in her most cherished moments, once relied on her father, unwilling to leave his protection and gentle love.”

“And now… do you still want that?”

Treya’s silver sword slashed through the patch of sky, shattering it further.

It dissolved into blackness.

The demon hopped lightly, landing on a patch of grass.

“The half-elf princess, in her most whimsical moments, once believed she could possess the entire world.”

“And now… do you—”

Treya stomped on the ground with force, destroying the grass beneath her feet.

It dissolved into blackness.

…

One by one, her colorful memories were swallowed by the darkness without hesitation.

And so…

She drew closer to the light.

“Well then… you’ve reached the endpoint.”

—

“Entark… Third Form: Break…”

“Entark… Fifth Form: Connect…”

“Entark… Seventh Form: Fold…”

Eugenie watched Treya’s movements on stage, identifying each technique with her own eyes.

These were no longer the laughable, childlike sword techniques she had been performing earlier—who had even taught her those? Treya had mastered them in just two days!

Instead…

Treya was now wielding the very techniques Eugenie herself had learned at fifteen…

The Demon Swordsmanship she had received from the demon.

And it was…

Perfect. Flawless. The true Entark Demon Swordsmanship.

At the same time, Eugenie could feel her own power slipping away.

The more Treya swung her sword on stage, the faster Eugenie’s strength drained from her body.

This was bad. Very bad.

She shot a furious glare at Will.

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It had to be him! It was always him!

Will tilted his head, glancing at Eugenie.

He had no direct connection to the demon and couldn’t understand the sword techniques. He was happily munching on watermelon slices brought to him by his maid.

“Tch.”

Eugenie turned her attention back to the stage.

“But… for her to completely take the power from me, the demon would have to fully abandon me and choose her… That’s impossible!”

—

Treya stood before the endpoint, the glowing light.

It was a painting.

At the center of the painting was Will.

But…

It was the Will who had been lying on the guillotine, his figure frozen in the moment the blade fell, his gaze directed skyward.

In the pitch-black void, all the colors had been erased, leaving only this painting.

“The half-elf princess…”

“You should understand.”

“Born into this position, holding this identity, part of this family—think about what will happen to the one who trusts you.”

“I know.”

The demon finally stopped moving.

“Then, since you’ve reached the endpoint… you should understand…”

“What black is—”

Treya gripped her silver sword tightly.

But her focus remained on the painting.

She had never been able to understand her own heart, but this time… she seemed to grasp it.

“I understand. Just like he told me in my room…”

“I can’t have everything.”

“Black is…”

“Something that can be discarded…”

“Something that can be ignored…”

“Something that can be destroyed…”

“…Something completely unimportant.”

“In other words… they…”

“Can be ‘sacrificed.’”

“And all I need to hold onto…”

“Is the only color in front of me.”

Treya reached out, her longest finger gently touching the painting.

From her fingertip, a flood of “memories” poured into her body—memories of the sword techniques compiled over generations of the Entark family. No, these were techniques tightly controlled by the demon.

Without the need for words or explanation, she instantly understood what Will had meant by “learning Demon Swordsmanship.”

It would teach her—

It would gift her—

It would watch her—

And pour everything directly into her heart.