Vincent unleashed the full force of Death's Gambit, and the world broke apart beneath his feet. With the raw, unrelenting energy exploding from his body, the ground shook. Shades slithered out from him like snakes, engulfing the once-pure garden in a dense, blackness that was oppressive. As though reality itself was yielding to Vincent's will, the air grew thick and heavy with his presence.

Emelia's eyes were wide with shock and fear as her body hung limp in his hands. Her fingers clawed desperately at his wrist, but it was useless, and her once unbreakable calm broke like fragile glass. She had always been the puppeteer, but this was the first time she had felt the cold fingers of helplessness encircling her.

Vincent's glowing eyes drilled into hers, and his grip tightened. "You thought you could control me?" His tone was deep and caustic, with every utterance brimming with contempt. "You underestimated what I've become."

Before long, the whole garden was vibrating in time with Vincent's heartbeat as the surrounding energy started to pulse ever-faster. Emelia gasped, her body trembling as Vincent's sinister aura twisted her inside out, tainting her very being.

He leaned in closer, his breath cold against her skin as he whispered, "You don't belong in my world anymore." "This is where your story ends."

Emelia let out a cry that was a combination of a whimper and a scream, as the shadows enveloped her and became more icy against her skin. Her body started to dissolve, melting into the same darkness that had aided her in the past. The same power that she had just been mocking was now consuming her.

Vincent, though, didn't recoil. The Villain System had hardened his heart, so he watched with a cold, calculated detachment. For him, there was no going back now.

Abruptly, a firm and piercing voice filled his head. Vincent, put an end to her. Accept what is truly yours." He was propelled forward by the Villain System's resounding hum of approval, which also gave him a strong sense of power.

His desire was to.

Yes, he ought to.

But a doubt flickered in his mind as he watched Emelia disappear into the abyss. Despite all of her guile and brutality, her last moments were almost... pitiful. It was too human, her fear, her helplessness. Far too feeble.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Vincent was unsure.

As the Crown Prince, you are. Grab everything. With impatience, the System snarled.

His hold loosened for the shortest of moments. It appeared that Emelia noticed it as her dimming eyes met his. Even as her body gave way to darkness, a ghost of a smirk danced across her lips.

She uttered, hardly audible, "You're... still... weak."

The words struck Vincent more forcefully than any previous blow she had given. The realization hurt. Even with his strength, the System, and his triumph, there remained uncertainty and a weakness in the barrier he had built.

Vincent's fist clenched in a fit of rage, and the shadows grew thicker. Emelia's body disappeared completely, engulfed by the pitch-black emptiness.

The garden became quiet. Like the last dying embers of a fire that had burned for too long, all that was left of Vincent was a faint hum of energy. Standing there by himself, panting heavily, his thoughts were racing.

On the chilly stone pathway, the assassin's lifeless body lay like a shattered shell. The blood that splattered across the cobblestone appeared to be from a different planet at this point. A world he had just cut his connections to.

With his hands still shaking from the power surge, Vincent dabbed at the perspiration on his brow. His eyes raised to survey the carnage he had caused. The once-beautiful garden had turned into a wasteland of death and shadows, and Vincent had evolved into something far more dangerous than a simple villain or prince.

A silhouette arose from the shadows, his attention drawn by the smallest hint of motion.

His attendant.

With measured, slow steps, the ever-faithful servant who had seen Vincent grow from a boy into a monster approached. He had only loyalty in his eyes, not fear. total, unwavering devotion.

The butler calmly said, "My lord," in spite of the commotion all around them. "It is done."

With his chest heaving, Vincent raised his eyes to the night sky. Despite the carnage below, the stars above glowed coldly.

More to himself than to the butler, Vincent muttered, "It's only just getting started." With the power still pulsing beneath his skin, his hands flexed at his sides. An unquenchable power, dangerous and intoxicating.

Though it wasn't enough, he had tasted victory. Not just yet.

The butler moved forward and bowed a little. "What are your next orders, Young Master?"

A menacing smile twisted around Vincent's lips as his eyes grew gloomy. Call the court into session. I'm going to assert my ownership."

With a nod, the butler turned to go.

Vincent, though, was not done. Like a blade through the silence, his voice was heard. "And learn as much as you can about the other potential dangers. I've had enough of their games."

The footsteps of the butler vanished into the distance, leaving Vincent standing in the middle of his destroyed garden by himself once more. The stars appeared colder and the night seemed darker. The environment around him was changing and growing.

He was no longer merely battling for his life.

He was fighting to dominate now.

And that was just the start.