Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 92: Storm Before the Exorcism
Storm Before the Exorcism
"Bianca, do you have any evidence?"
A whisper rolled through the high room where old voices once gathered. Weighted silence followed, thick with uncertainty.
Stillness took hold, just for a second. Nobody stepped forward.
A hush hung heavy inside - statues of old leaders stood tall, staring down with hard stone faces that gave nothing away. Up above, wisps of incense drifted like quiet signals meant to be ignored.
A few family members looked around nervously. Their chairs creaked as one moved slightly forward. Downward went some stares, avoiding contact at all costs.
Still, Ryan De Dominicis carried himself right at home. Quiet respect shaped his actions. He weighed each phrase before speaking. His drive showed only in glances, never loud or bare. A person aware of boundaries - how close to move, then where to pause. Only silence followed that thought.
Maybe that was their thinking. Or so it seemed back then.
Bianca held her red gaze steady, unblinking through the quiet.
There she stayed, no pause at all, back stiff, standing firm - as though the outcome was settled long before. Not a flicker of doubt crossed her face, spine aligned, voice calm - like a scene rehearsed in silence. Her stance didn’t waver, feet planted, eyes fixed - already seeing what others hadn’t yet noticed. Stillness wrapped around her, shoulders high, breath even - sure of where the line was drawn.
"I’ll bring the witness."
Quiet filled her words more than silence ever could.
Yet things could’ve stayed simple.
A single clap broke the silence. She brought her palms together sharply, the sound sharp and sudden in the still air.
A sudden noise broke the silence, slicing through the air. The room froze mid-breath. Stillness cracked under pressure. A pause stretched too long. Then - sound again, clean and cold.
A gasp slipped out from a couple of folks. His knuckles went white on the wood, the elder gripping hard. Then - silence. The whispers just stopped, like something sucked them in midair after that slow hand movement.
Suddenly, those huge oak doors groaned as they swung apart.
A low noise moved through the space, dragging behind it a weight that felt staged. Not quite real, yet too deliberate to ignore.
A pair of guards stepped inside, pulling someone along by the arms. One figure stumbled forward, caught between them.
Danny.
Clothes rumpled, collar marked with smudges. Damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead while breaths rattled out, short then long. Hours passed without sleep - maybe without stillness too.
It cracked open when his eyes met those old figures watching from on high. A silent snap deep within, like a branch giving way under frost. The weight of their stone gaze pressed down without sound. He stood smaller now beneath carvings that remembered too much. Something long held tightened then split apart.
Foot by foot, he collapsed. Then nothing held him up.
A heavy drop, then he hit the floor on both knees. The sound was flat, swallowed by the smooth stone beneath him.
"I - I’ll say it all," he stuttered, words breaking halfway through.
Down went his head, while his hands shook hard, inching closer to the ground till almost touching. The shaking wouldn’t stop as he kept lowering, one slow motion after another.
"I swear... I’ll tell everything... just... just don’t - "
His words tangled, panic choking the rest.
This was his only chance.
The young lady had promised him—if he testified truthfully, she would spare his life.
And right now, that promise was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.
Bianca didn’t rush him.
She didn’t speak.
She just watched.
Waiting.
And somehow, that silence was worse than pressure.
Danny swallowed hard, forcing air into his lungs, forcing his thoughts into something resembling order.
Then he began.
He spoke in fragments at first—broken, uneven—but slowly, painfully, the pieces started to connect.
He explained in detail how Ryan had contacted outside forces. Names. Meetings. Quiet arrangements made in places no one would think to check.
A few heads lifted at that.
Others stiffened.
How the New Thermal Power Project with Shin Cooperation had nearly crippled the De Dominicis Group.
There were murmurs now—low, sharp, disbelieving.
"That project... wasn’t that—"
"—we lost almost thirty percent—"
"Impossible..."
Danny squeezed his eyes shut and kept going, as if stopping now would kill him.
How the method used on the patriarch involved a Bright Life Sucking Leach—an insidious parasite introduced discreetly through close contact.
That was when the room truly changed.
A cold ripple passed through the hall.
Someone inhaled sharply.
"No... that’s forbidden..."
"That kind of thing doesn’t just—"
"It requires intent..."
Every word tightened the air further.
Danny’s voice grew steadier as he spoke, like a man who had already fallen and realized there was no ground left beneath him.
He described the timing. The access. The exact moment the parasite could have been planted.
Every detail landed like a stone dropped into still water.
One after another.
No gaps.
No contradictions.
When he finished, silence fell like snowfall.
Heavy. Absolute.
Even the faint crackle of incense seemed too loud now.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Witness.
Method.
Motive.
The evidence was complete.
Ryan’s face had lost all color.
The confident calm he had worn for years—gone.
In its place, something raw flickered beneath the surface. Fear. Calculation. Desperation.
His fingers curled tightly at his sides, knuckles paling. His gaze darted once—just once—around the room, as if searching for something. Someone.
Support.
An opening.
Anything.
But all he found were eyes staring back at him—no longer respectful... no longer neutral.
Judging.
Waiting.
Still, he opened his mouth, desperate.
"Sis, I—"
He never finished.
His father surged forward like a storm breaking loose.
A fist slammed into Ryan’s face.
The crack of bone against knuckle rang through the chamber.
Ryan crashed to the ground. Before he could recover, kicks followed—merciless, fueled by humiliation and rage.
In a wealthy household, betrayal was unforgivable.
But harming the patriarch? 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞
That was a capital offense.
Ryan’s mother screamed and tried to pull her husband back, tears streaming down her face.
"Stop! Please, stop!"
The rest of the family watched coldly.
No one intervened.
Bianca stood still, expression carved from stone.
Only when Ryan lay half-conscious, blood staining the marble, did she finally speak.
"That’s enough, Second Uncle. Let’s stop here for today. Grandfather’s health hasn’t recovered yet. We’ll let him decide once he’s better."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Ryan’s father staggered back, chest heaving. His anger drained into despair.
He had never imagined his son would be this foolish.
With the patriarch’s temperament—
Would Ryan even survive the final judgment?
"Take him away and lock him up."
Two bodyguards lifted Ryan and dragged him out.
Bianca turned to the rest of the household.
"This matter isn’t entirely Ryan’s fault. He’s foolish... but someone else is even more malicious."
Her gaze sharpened.
"That person must be avenged."
Murmurs rose immediately.
"Indeed. We can’t let this person go."
"He must pay the price."
"Whoever dares target the De Dominicis household will regret it."
Agreement rippled through the room like a dark tide.
Revenge was no longer optional.
It was inevitable.
That very night, the De Dominicis household began searching for Evan.
At the same time, every business under the De Dominicis banner launched coordinated attacks on the Bear Group.
Contracts were canceled.
Credit lines were tightened.
Partnerships quietly dissolved.
War—silent and financial—had begun.
—
Meanwhile, at the Valquin estate, the atmosphere was entirely different.
It was chaos.
Two days earlier, the Valquin household had publicly announced they were inviting Black Magic masters from across Valemont to solve their crisis.
Whoever succeeded would receive a reward of one billion Euro.
For many masters, that was not merely money.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime leap in status.
Cars filled the driveway. Robed mystics, suited consultants, aging geomancers, self-proclaimed exorcists—each one hoping to seize glory.
When Julian D’Aurelius drove in, he saw a familiar car pulling up near the entrance.
Evan stepped out.
Black hair neat. Black eyes calm. Expression confident.
Gwen Valquin was already waiting for him at the steps.
"Miss Gwen," Evan said with a warm smile after stepping out of the car, "how’s the effect of the talisman I gave you?"
His tone was relaxed, almost playful.
"It works well," Gwen replied softly. "So I’ll trouble you today, Mr. Evan."
Her voice was steady.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were complicated.
Because she remembered.
She remembered the voice she had heard.
She remembered the mocking thoughts that had pierced through the illusion.
To verify it, she had taken the talisman apart this morning.
Inside—
Nothing sacred.
Nothing mystical.
Just meaningless scribbles.
And a dried bloodstain.
Her fingers had trembled slightly when she saw it.
Now, facing him, she kept her composure.
Evan, of course, mistook her expression.
[Ha, Gwen must be amazed by the talisman.]
[Fortunately, I’ll kindly help you expose his true colors later.]
[By the way, where’s Mike Valquin?]
The familiar inner voice echoed again in her mind.
Clear.
Distinct.
Unmistakable.
Her heartbeat skipped.
She slowly turned her head, scanning the crowd.
Who was it?
The voice wasn’t coming from Evan.
It wasn’t anyone speaking aloud.
But it was here.
Somewhere among them.
Her gaze moved across the arriving guests—
Until it brushed past Julian D’Aurelius standing not far away.
Golden eyes calm.
Expression unreadable.
And in that fleeting moment—
She wondered.
Could it be him?
