_Snow_flake_

In a world where villains are crafted, not born, Vyan's life takes a detour from dull to downright dramatic faster than he can say "abracadabra."

Meet Vyan, the most ordinary knight in the realm, with all the magical prowess of a damp sock. Loyalty? He's got it in spades. Betrayal? Well, that's the surprise twist in his not-so-fairy-tale life.

Framed and forsaken, Vyan is left with nothing but a grudge and some pretty gnarly scars, courtesy of his once-master, Iyana. Oh, did he mention she is the daughter of a marquess and the object of his unrequited affection? Talk about adding insult to injury.

Just when he is ready to unleash his inner berserker, a butler comes along with news that makes his hair stand on end: Vyan is the last heir of the Grand Duke's mage dynasty!

With power crackling at his fingertips and more mana than he can shake a wand at, Vyan is ready to show the world what happens when you underestimate the underdog. Will Vyan rise from the ashes like a phoenix, or will he crash and burn like a fire-breathing chicken? There's only one way to find out.

Ascension Of The Villain

Vyan stared down at the small box in his hands, its weight suddenly unbearable. The sight inside—two severed fingers, pale, stiff, unmistakably Clyde's—was burned into his vision, but his mind refused to process it.

Everything around him—Althea's muffled sobs, Iyana's sharp inhale, the distant morning sounds from the manor—blurred into nothingness. The world had shrunk to the gruesome reality in his hands.

His thoughts clawed against the edges of his mind, trying—desperately—to make sense of what he was seeing.

Vyan swallowed hard, his body cold, his heart hammering against his ribs. His grip tightened on the edges of the box until his knuckles went white. A sharp buzzing filled his head, drowning out the rational part of his mind.

"This…" His voice came out low, almost lifeless. He swallowed hard and tried again. "This isn't him."

Assumed Unimportant