Villainess X Villain: They are obsessed with each other!

Chapter 284: Chapter: 283 Knight in shining armour.[1]

As the news of the legendary Immortal Valentina from the Continent of Auranel spread across the Three Floating Continents, the shock it carried reached even the furthest corners of civilization.

Merchants abandoned their usual discussions about profits in favor of rumors, wandering spell casters whispered to one another in lowered voices.

Meanwhile, in the central lands of the Continent of Vahana, where the Fairyborn Empire reigned over one of the largest and most prosperous regions of the continent, the morning appeared as lively as any other.

The broad streets overflowed with merchants opening their stalls, travelers haggled over prices, children darted between the crowds while chasing one another, and the aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with the fragrance of fruits and spices drifting through the market.

To an outsider, the city seemed unchanged. Yet beneath that familiar liveliness lingered an invisible tension that everyone could feel but few dared mention aloud.

Soldiers patrolled every major road in numbers far greater than usual, their sharp eyes constantly sweeping across the crowds.

Patrols crossed paths every few streets, while squads stood stationed at important intersections with their weapons never leaving their hands.

For the past several days, the entire empire had remained on the highest level of alert.

"Hey, did you hear?" a fruit stall owner suddenly called toward the neighboring vendor while arranging a basket of bright red apples.

His voice was lowered despite the surrounding noise. "The Immortal Valentina is dead."

The vegetable seller paused in the middle of weighing a bundle of herbs before slowly looking up.

"I heard," he replied after a long moment, his expression unusually solemn.

"The Immortal Valentina..." He shook his head in disbelief. "I still can’t believe someone like him is actually dead."

Although Auranel was separated from Vahana by an entire continent, the weight behind those words could still be felt.

Men like the Immortal Valentina were legends whose names had become part of history itself.

Their existence alone reassured countless people that some things in the world simply never changed. To hear that such a figure had fallen made the world itself feel strangely unfamiliar.

"I also heard..." the fruit seller leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even further, "...that a Zlycon killed him."

This time the vegetable seller’s face visibly paled.

The fear in his eyes changed completely. Earlier, his disbelief had come from hearing that one of the strongest spell casters alive had died.

Now, however, something far deeper surfaced. It was the instinctive fear ordinary people felt toward the Zlycons.

The word "Zlycon" alone was enough to make them sweat cold.

"I heard the ancient clans and the great empires are already preparing for an emergency summit in Auranel," the vegetable seller finally muttered after looking around to make sure nobody was listening too closely.

He released a weary sigh before continuing. "I just hope the continent doesn’t descend into war again. Whenever those people fight, it’s never the powerful who suffer first." He glanced toward the crowds surrounding their stalls. "It’s people like us."

The fruit seller quietly nodded.

Neither of them spoke again. They simply continued selling their goods while the bustling marketplace carried on around them.

*****

Around the city gates of the Fairyborn Empire, the atmosphere was even heavier.

Every guard stationed along the towering walls remained on high alert as they carefully inspected each person attempting to enter the city.

Travelers waited patiently in long lines while soldiers examined travel permits, searched wagons, questioned merchants, and inspected every carriage with unusual thoroughness.

Normally such inspections would have been considered excessive, but under the current circumstances no one dared complain.

News of the Immortal Valentina’s death had already spread throughout the empire, and every city had tightened its defenses accordingly.

Among all those checkpoints, however, one stood above the rest in importance. This was the capital itself—Indraprasth, the beating heart of the Fairyborn Empire.

The soldiers stationed there inspected one traveler after another without exception. Merchants carrying valuable cargo had every crate opened.

Civilians were questioned about where they had come from and where they intended to go.

Even wandering spell casters and foreign tourists received far more attention than they normally would.

The empire had no intention of allowing unknown dangers to slip inside while the world stood on the edge of uncertainty.

The tension hanging over the capital had become so thick that even the common people unconsciously lowered their voices as they entered through its massive gates.

Around early noon, when the sun rested almost directly overhead, a luxurious carriage slowly approached the entrance.

Unlike the ordinary wagons surrounding it, this carriage immediately drew every eye present.

Its polished exterior was decorated with elegant crimson wood trimmed in gold, while intricate carvings covered nearly every panel.

Surrounding it marched an entire battalion of Fairyborn Empire soldiers in perfect formation, their synchronized footsteps echoing across the stone road.

Above them fluttered the banners of the empire, each proudly displaying the image of a soaring hawk against the wind.

It was an emblem that contrasted strangely with the empire’s graceful name, yet no one within the continent dared underestimate what those banners represented.

As the procession approached, however, something immediately felt wrong.

The soldiers escorting the carriage lacked the confidence usually displayed by the empire’s elite guards.

Their expressions were unusually gloomy, and many carried visible bandages around their arms, shoulders, or foreheads.

Some armor pieces remained cracked despite having been hastily repaired during the journey.

These were not the appearances of men returning victorious from a diplomatic mission.

They looked more like survivors who had narrowly escaped something far beyond their expectations.

The gate guards immediately recognized the imperial escort.

Without uttering a single unnecessary word, they hurriedly ordered the massive gates to be opened completely, allowing the entire caravan to pass through without slowing or breaking formation.

No inspection was requested. None was necessary.

Inside the carriage, silence dominated the spacious interior.

An elderly man with neatly combed gray hair and a full gray beard leaned back against the cushioned seat before slowly releasing a long sigh filled with exhaustion.

Deep lines surrounded his eyes, making him appear older than usual after the lengthy journey.

He was Sir Issak, the personal advisor to the Emperor of the Fairyborn Empire.

"...I only hope His Majesty will take the news calmly," he murmured quietly to himself.

Disappointment slowly settled across his weathered face.

A month earlier, this very caravan had departed for the Thorne Family Estate carrying one of the empire’s most important diplomatic proposals.

Although relations between the Fairyborn Empire and the Thorne Family had never been particularly friendly, both sides understood the benefits that could come from setting aside old disagreements.

The purpose of the journey had been simple: finalize the date of the marriage between Crypian Thorne and the Empire’s eldest princess, Sylviana Fairyborn.

The Emperor himself had never been entirely comfortable with the arrangement.

However, Princess Sylviana had remained surprisingly resolute.

Despite her gentle and timid personality, she had refused to change her mind once she decided upon something.

Her determination had eventually persuaded even the Emperor that perhaps this marriage could accomplish something beyond politics.

If successful, it might bridge the long-standing divide between two powerful factions that had spent generations keeping one another at arm’s length.

With that hope in mind, he had entrusted Sir Issak, his most reliable advisor, with personally delivering the proposal.

The mission had been expected to conclude peacefully.

The caravan was supposed to return exactly one month later carrying favorable news.

Instead...

Sir Issak slowly closed his tired eyes.

The battered soldiers surrounding his carriage, their silent expressions, and the oppressive atmosphere following them was enough to guess what had happened.

Something had gone terribly wrong during their visit.

He released another quiet sigh as the capital gradually came into view beyond the carriage window.

"...The Three Floating Continents..."

His weary voice barely rose above a whisper.

"...will soon be thrown into complete uproar."