Villain's Path System-Chapter 36: Value in Death

His investigation partner. The girl who’d stayed up all night watching over him. proud swordswoman who blushed when he thanked her.

Was connected to a chaos beast that had nearly destroyed civilization.

"The seal on an Ashenblade," Myra said, swirling her wine glass lazily, "isn’t there to protect them. Think of it more like... a leash. One percent of Kokonei’s residual power, branded into their bloodline. Passed down through generations whether they want it or not."

"One percent," Lucian repeated. "That’s... that’s what caused the power surge I saw. Her eyes changed. Dark and light at the same time."

"Dual-natured," Myra confirmed. "Opposing forces trying to exist in the same space. Dark and light. Creation and destruction. Order and chaos." She paused. "When an Ashenblade awakens, those forces try to merge. Most vessels can’t handle it."

"Most?"

Myra’s expression darkened. "No Ashenblade in recorded history has lived past twenty-two years old."

The room went very, very quiet.

"What?"

"The power consumes them. Burns them from the inside out. Their bodies can’t contain opposing forces—order and chaos, light and dark—all trying to exist in the same fragile human vessel."

She picked up her wine glass but didn’t drink. Just held it.

"They awaken. Grow stronger. For a few years, they’re among the most dangerous fighters this world has ever seen."

Her eyes met his.

"And then they shatter. Every. Single. One."

Lucian felt like the floor had dropped out from under him.

Seraphina is eighteen. Four years. She has four years left.

"This can’t—" His voice came out rough. "There has to be a way. Something—"

"If there was, the Ashenblade family would have found it." Myra’s voice was flat. Final. "Six centuries. Every generation hopes. Trains. Seals their children early, teaches them control, gives them every advantage."

A pause.

"And every generation, they bury their heirs before twenty-three."

"Then why—" Lucian stood abruptly. "Why do they keep having children? If they know—"

"They’re nobles. Nobles don’t abandon their bloodlines." Myra’s voice was quiet. "So they keep hoping. And hope keeps dying. Every single generation."

"And most people don’t know this truth. It’s been kept very quiet."

"How quiet?"

"Only High-level mages know. Certain nobles. Royal families." She gestured to herself with a slight smile. "And S-ranks like me — who’ve seen enough forbidden magic to know what it smells like."

Lucian went quiet. Desperation was clear on his face.

Myra reached for the bottle, filling her glass slowly. She lifted it, took a long sip, then looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

"Still, If the awakening is controlled properly, survival might be possible." Her voice softened slightly. "That’s why the seals exist. To suppress the power until the vessel is old enough, mature enough, to potentially withstand it."

But..." She trailed off.

"But what?"

"The seal breaking improperly is dangerous enough on its own."

Myra swirled her wine, watching the liquid catch the light.

"But force the awakening too early? Or let it trigger while the vessel’s in extreme stress?"

She shook her head. "Then death by twenty-two becomes a guarantee, not just a probability."

Lucian’s hands clenched into fists. "The assassin — he attacked us right after her power erupted. You’re saying—"

"Someone wants her awakening to go wrong. They want her to burn out fast."

"Why? Why would anyone—"

"Because awakening Ashenblades are dangerous, and dangerous things are always valuable to someone." "Their blood can be used in rituals. Dark magic. There are people in this world who would pay fortunes just for the chance to study one up close."

She pulled out a thick leather-bound book. "And some people hunt them for other reasons entirely."

"The assassin," Lucian said slowly. "You know what he is."

"Shadow magic. Forbidden techniques." Myra turned to face him. "That’s not a random attack. Someone hired that assassin specifically to keep you away from Seraphina."

"Why?"

"That’s the real question, isn’t it?" Her eyes met his. "Someone out there is watching her very carefully. And they don’t want you anywhere near her when her power fully awakens."

Lucian felt ice spreading through his chest.

"Professional killers were bad enough. But a professional killer with a powerful employer who’d been watching Seraphina long enough to know her seal was weakening — Of course. Now I have to deal with my heroine’s would-be murderer too. Clearly, that’s my punishment for taking the hero slot."

"This book," Myra said, extending it toward him lazily.

"Consider it your new bedtime reading. Bloodline management, meditation techniques — everything you need to keep your little Ashenblade from destroying herself."

Lucian took it. Heavy. Old. The leather was worn smooth from use. "Bloodline Management: A Practical Guide."

"Will it help?" he asked quietly.

Myra smiled — slow, unhurried — and reached for her wine glass.

"Define ’help,’ darling." A sip.

"It’ll keep her from burning out too quickly. Whether she actually survives..." She tilted her head, almost fond. "That’s entirely up to her. And, I suspect, how stubborn you’re willing to be about it."

Lucian stared at the book. Then at her.

She said that like she was discussing a mildly inconvenient change of plans.

Is this woman even capable of normal human concern?

"Anything else?" Myra asked.

"No." His voice came out hollow. "That’s everything."

She leaned in — close, too close — her face inches from his.

Move. Get up. Leave. He didn’t move. Traitor, he told his own body.

Her lips curved into something slow and dangerous.

"Get out before I pull you into my bed and taste every inch of you," she Whispered

pleasantly.

He stood. Too fast. Nearly knocked the chair over.

Dignity. Where is my dignity.

He was halfway to the door when her voice caught him.

"You look exhausted." Casual. Almost gentle. "And you still have your own problems to solve."

That pulled him back to reality fast enough. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

She was right.

Seraphina was in danger. But so was he. Someone had framed him. Someone powerful enough to manipulate witnesses, plant evidence, and make it stick. Someone who wanted him discredited. Isolated. Vulnerable.

He needed to find out who. Fast. Before they finished what they’d started.

He headed for the door.

"Lucian."

He stopped again. Hand on the knob.

"Whoever framed you?" Myra’s voice was different now. No wine. No smile. Just quiet, deliberate weight. "They’re not done."

"I know."

Do you?" She tilted her head, almost pitying. "Amateurs frame people to embarrass them, darling. Professionals frame people to erase them." A slow sip.

She lifted her glass.

"Don’t get comfortable."

Lucian nodded once. Then left.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.