Transmigrated as the Villain: I Will Destroy Fate

Chapter 172: Duality [4]

Ronan’s first thought was clean and immediate.

I need to kill him.

There was no hesitation in it. No guilt. No moral weight. Jason Vrell had stepped into the clearing armed, informed, and pointed directly at Ronan by Mesmer. That made him a threat. Threats were either removed, redirected, or escaped. Killing Jason cleanly, one-on-one, in this state, was not a plan. It was simply hopeful thinking.

Jason repeated the challenge, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Face me. Alone."

As a man. His tone was flat and absolute, as if the terms were already decided. As if Elara and Seraphina were not there. As if this entire battlefield had narrowed to the space between them.

Ronan did not accept. He also did not refuse outright. He tested the frame instead.

"Why one-on-one, Jason? You’re not here for honor. We both know that." He needled at the idea, pointing at the shape of the demand without naming it. Jason was not here for fairness. He was here because Marcus was dead and Ronan stood in front of him.

"It doesn’t matter," Jason said, his voice hardening. "This is between you and me. No one else."

Ronan watched his eyes. That was where the truth was. Not calm. Not righteous. Angry.

But not wild, either. It was a controlled anger. The specific anger of someone trying to make murder feel clean and justified. Jason did not want an audience complicating this.

Without dropping the smile, Ronan turned the situation outward, his voice pitched for Elara and Seraphina. He gave them the simplest possible version.

"He’s a traitor."

He let the word sit there.

No explanation about Marcus. No mention of grief. No messy moral argument that might make either of them hesitate.

Just traitor.

A clean label for the situation.

He pushed the next point immediately. "We don’t have the luxury of fighting fair. He was approached by the same enemy that empowered Brutas. If we let him dictate the terms, we’re giving Mesmer exactly what he wants. We take him down together. Now. Before the next threat arrives."

Then Ronan turned the knife in a different direction. He looked at Elara.

"And we still need to find your sister."

Elara’s face hardened.

That did the work Ronan needed it to do. She did not know the full story, did not know what Ronan did to Marcus, did not know how much of Jason’s anger was justified. But she knew demons were attacking. She knew Mira was dead. She knew Lilith nearly killed them.

She knew her sister might be alone somewhere in this collapsing battlefield.

That was enough.

Jason’s expression shifted. Not at the accusation itself, but at how quickly Ronan flattened him into something simple. Traitor. Enemy. Obstacle. Whatever private grief Jason brought into the clearing was stripped of context before it could matter. His shoulders lowered slightly. Not surrender. Disappointment.

"You’re misunderstanding," he said, his voice strained. "I have no intention of killing them. This was never about them."

He only wanted Ronan. Cleanly. Without adding more names to a list that was already too long.

He looked between the three of them.

One last chance.

No one took it.

Elara stayed beside Ronan, her stance showing that she was ready to fight alongside him through all of this, despite her questions and doubts.

She did not need Jason’s whole story to know which side she was standing on right now.

Seraphina did not step back either. She was exhausted, injured, but pale light still gathered at her fingertips as she drew her sword.

Three against one. No one reconsidering.

Something in Jason’s face changed.

Whatever appeal remained folded away.

He closed his eyes.

When they opened again, there was nothing left to negotiate with.

He drew his sword once again. The moment the blade cleared its sheath, the air thickened.

Jason moved first.

The opening attack was a sweeping strike wide enough to threaten all three of them at once, forcing the group to scatter instead of forming a stable line.

Elara moved cleanly, rolling to the left. Seraphina sidestepped the other way.

Ronan was slower than both due to his injuries, and he knew Jason saw it.

Jason followed the weakness.

Before he could reach Ronan, Elara cut in. Her gauntlet caught Jason hard enough to crack his chest plate and drive his body half a step sideways. It was not nothing. The impact would have dropped most students.

Jason barely staggered.

He turned and threw her bodily across the clearing. Elara crashed through the dirt, but Seraphina reacted immediately. A film of pale light caught the worst of the fall from range, softening the impact just enough to keep Elara conscious. The spell cost Seraphina visibly. Her shoulders dipped, her breathing worsening.

Jason turned on Ronan. The sword came down.

Ronan had no time to dodge properly. He raised his forearms, crossing them in a desperate block.

Steel Bone Armament took the blow. Barely.

The impact drove through his ruined arms, through his shoulders, down into his spine.

Pain flashed heavily behind his eyes. The reinforced bones held, but everything around them screamed. He could not take a second hit like that.

Seraphina bought him a sliver of space with a defensive burst of magic. It was not strong enough to injure Jason deeply, but it made him shift his footing. It was enough for Ronan to retreat half a step and reset his balance.

Elara returned before Jason could pursue, intercepting his blade with both gauntlets. For a moment, it became a straight contest of strength.

She was losing.

Slowly at first. Then obviously. Her knees bent. Her arms trembled under the relentless pressure. Jason pressed down with constant force, not rushing, not roaring, just grinding through her guard.

Ronan spent the last dregs of his usable mana on a covering attack.

Fire slammed into Jason’s side.

It hurt him. Ronan saw it flicker in his eyes.

Jason’s head turned through the smoke, his gaze cold and fixed on Ronan.

Ronan’s eyes were fixed in return.

They could do this. None of them were powerhouses like Luca and the rest, but they could do this. They just had to keep constant pressure on him, before he could use that stone Seraphina spoke of and get a power-up that would put him beyond their capabilities.

But then, as if spitting in the idea itself, Jason reaches into his back pocket.

It’s a stone with elaborate designs on it, symbolizing waves, or something similar. Nothing like how Ronan would have imagined.

Jason looked Ronan dead in the eyes, then crushed the stone.