Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 396: Blood answers Blood

[Haldor’s POV—The Lodge—The Next Day]

Dawn never truly reached the road we followed.

Mist clung low to the ground as the two Astreon riders moved ahead of us, their cloaks blending into the grey light. They rode with confidence—too much confidence for men who believed they were being hunted.

Zerith stayed close behind me.

Silent and waiting, the road curved away from the capital, then narrowed into something unnamed—no markers, no travelers, only the sound of hooves and the quiet certainty that this was no accident.

Then—one of them slowed.

He did not turn, but...

"Looks like the Crown Princess has already found out about us," he said calmly, almost amused.

The other laughed softly. "Of course she has. Monsters have sharp instincts."

I pulled my reins and stopped.

"So," the first continued, finally turning his head slightly, "you must be Crown Prince Haldor."

I lifted my gaze and met his eyes, astreon eyes. Cold. Knowing. Curious.

I smirked.

"Guess," I said lazily, "you people are sharper than you look."

They turned fully now, stopping their horses. The second man studied me openly. "Half Elorian. Half Astreon. Wearing Elorian steel, standing between two empires."

His smile widened. "Tell me—does it hurt?"

Zerith’s hand twitched near his blade.

I raised mine slightly.Not yet.

"Does what hurt?" I asked calmly.

"Belonging nowhere," the man replied.

I laughed, not loudly, not kindly.

"You misunderstand," I said. "I belong very clearly."

The first man tilted his head. "To Eloria?"

"To Lavinia," I corrected. "And she rules Eloria."

Their smiles faltered—just a little.

"Blood matters, Crown Prince," the second said. "You cannot outrun it. Astreon will always call to—"

"I don’t answer calls from traitors," I cut in coldly.

Silence snapped tight. The first man’s eyes hardened. "You would really choose Eloria over your own blood?"

I leaned forward slightly in the saddle, my voice dropping. "I would choose Eloria over everything."

Their expressions changed then, not amusement, not curiosity.

Calculation.

"You think you are loyal," the first said quietly. "But when the empire turns on you—and it will—you will remember this moment."

I smiled. A slow, dangerous smile.

"Let me be very clear," I said. "If Eloria turns on me, I will stand alone."

I drew my blade just enough for the metal to catch the light. "But if you stand against Eloria—"

Zerith unsheathed his sword behind me.

"I will bury you so deep," I continued evenly, "that Astreon will deny ever knowing your names."

The road fell silent. Even the mist seemed to hold its breath. The second man laughed nervously. "Such devotion. Such tyranny."

I tilted my head, "I learned from the best."

I straightened up.

"Now," I said calmly, "you will tell me who in the capital is helping you."

Their smiles returned—thin, dangerous, "And if we don’t?"

I looked at them with absolute certainty, "Then this road becomes your grave."

The wind cut sharply through the mist, sharp and cold, carrying the weight of what was about to happen. And in that moment, I was no longer a knight.

No longer just a prince.

I stood at the very edge of Eloria’s will, and they finally understood—they had not found a bridge between empires.

They had found a blade; one of them laughed softly.

A mistake. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"By talking to you," he said lazily, tilting his head, "it seems you will never choose your blood empire. How pitiful." His eyes glinted. "You just got married, didn’t you? I almost feel sorry for the Crown Princess. She will be a widow soon."

The word hit me harder than any spell ever could.

Widow.

Something inside me snapped—clean, violent, irreversible. The world went very quiet. I raised my hand slowly, palm outward, stopping Zerith behind me without even looking.

"You’ve crossed every line," I said, my voice low enough to make the air tremble. "Calling my wife a widow..."

My fingers curled.

"These are the last words you will ever speak."

The Astreon man’s smile vanished as magic surged around him—symbols flaring, the air bending, and pressure crushing down as he released a spell meant to immobilize.

I stepped forward instead.

The spell struck—and shattered. Steel met magic with a scream like tearing metal. My blade cut through the glowing barrier, sparks exploding as Astreon runes cracked under Elorian force.

The second man shouted, launching a bolt of compressed light. I twisted, the bolt grazing my shoulder and burning cloth and skin, but I did not slow.

Pain meant nothing.

I was already moving.

I closed the distance in two strides, my sword slamming against his hastily formed shield. Once. Twice.

Crack.

The shield shattered, he stumbled back, panic flooding his face.

"You—!" he gasped.

"I warned you," I said coldly.

I drove my blade forward.

Magic flared desperately, wrapping around my arm, trying to crush bone and muscle—but rage made me stronger than any spell.

I ripped free and struck again; blood hit the dirt. The first man screamed, launching another spell—this one sharp, precise, and lethal.

I raised my sword and cut straight through it.

Steel rang.

The scream stopped. He dropped to his knees, choking, staring up at me in disbelief.

"You think I am torn between empires?" I said quietly, standing over him. "There is no choice."

My shadow loomed over his face.

"Eloria is my home." My grip tightened. "And Lavinia is my world."

The blade fell; silence crashed down on the road. Mist drifted back in slowly, as if trying to hide what had just been carved into the earth.

I stood there, chest rising and falling, blood dripping from my sword—not all of it mine.

Zerith did not speak, and neither did I. Because whatever I had been before this moment—it no longer mattered.

They had threatened my wife, and in doing so, they had learned the truth far too late:

I was not a bridge, I was not divided, I was the man who would turn into a monster—if that was the price of keeping her alive.

I huffed, breath heavy, as blood dripped steadily from the edge of my blade and down my wrist—warm, sticky, real. The mist swallowed the metallic scent slowly, as if even the night wanted to forget what had just happened.

Zerith stepped closer, eyes scanning the road out of habit before settling on me.

"Should we head back now?" he asked, voice low.

I exhaled and dragged a hand through my hair, smearing sweat and blood together.

"Yes," I said. Then paused.

"But before that..." I lifted my gaze to the bodies at our feet.

"...we have something else to do."

Zerith frowned slightly. "What?"

I turned fully toward the fallen Astreon men, their faces frozen between arrogance and disbelief.

"We send Astreon their present back," I said calmly. "The one they wanted us to give."

Zerith blinked once.

Then twice.

"...Wow," he muttered. "You really do sound like the Crown Princess now."

A slow, sharp smirk curved my lips.

"Spending time with her does that to you," I replied. "You learn that silence is sometimes an invitation—and messages should be loud."

I wiped my blade clean on a torn cloak and sheathed it with deliberate care.

"They wanted to play games across borders," I continued evenly. "So let’s make sure they understand the rules."

Zerith sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright... I’ll call someone."

He stepped away, already signaling into the darkness. I remained where I was, staring down at the bodies.

This wasn’t cruelty.

This was communication.

A message written in blood and certainty.

I crouched slightly, meeting the empty stare of one of them.

"You should have stayed in your empire," I murmured. "Now your people will learn what happens when they step into Eloria’s breath."

The wind picked up, carrying my words away—eastward.

Toward Astreon.

I straightened as footsteps approached.

"Make it clean," I told Zerith without turning. "And make sure it’s unmistakable."

He nodded once. "They’ll understand."

Good.

Because when Astreon received this farewell gift, they wouldn’t just mourn.

They would remember.

And they would know, without a single doubt—the Crown Princess of Eloria was not the only monster they needed to fear.

Her husband had learned how to bite back.

Men emerged from the shadows at Zerith’s signal—silent, efficient, faces hidden beneath dark hoods. They did not ask questions. They never did. The bodies were lifted, cleaned of excess blood, and placed into plain wooden coffins with the kind of care reserved not for the dead but for messages.

Zerith watched them work, then glanced at me. "What now?"

I mounted my horse and looked once more at the coffins.

"Throw them outside Astreon’s border gate," I said evenly. "Let them be found at dawn."

Zerith stiffened. "That could lead to another war."

I met his gaze, unflinching.

"I know," I replied. "But they started this. And they need to learn what happens when someone refuses to mind their own business."

For a moment, the wind carried nothing but the creak of wood and leather.

Then Zerith nodded.

"You’ve already decided," he said quietly.

"Yes," I answered. "I decided the moment they spoke my wife’s name."

He turned, barking orders to the cart driver in sharp, clipped tones. "You heard him. Do exactly as instructed. Two knights will follow you to the border. No detours. No witnesses."

The driver bowed low. "It will be done."

The cart rolled forward, wheels crunching softly over dirt, carrying Astreon’s answer back to its doorstep.

Zerith mounted beside me. "It will be loud."

"That’s the point," I said.

We rode forward together, leaving the road behind us—leaving blood, mist, and finality in our wake.

"Let’s go," I said.

And as the capital lights rose ahead, warm and distant, I felt it settle fully into my bones—

This was no longer a warning.

It was a declaration.