Chapitre 4: Goddess of Magic

Vyan trudged along the icy streets, his cloak more hole than fabric, courtesy of a lucky find near a shop's trash bin.

Who knew discarded rags could be so fashionable and intimidating at the same time? He was a walking cautionary sign against the early morning stroll in the sketchy neighborhood.

The second prince probably had his minions out hunting for his assailant who dared to bruise his perfect body.

The scent of breakfast teased his senses, reminding him of his empty pockets and rumbling stomach. Maybe he could trade some dramatic stories for a hot meal.

"Wanted: wounded fugitive seeks sustenance, will work for bacon."

Never mind, his employer would faint seeing his haggard state.

Cantace's cold in the Month of Crystal was like a slap from an angry ice queen—perhaps it was Iyana herself—and Vyan was feeling every frosty sting. If only he had splurged on some thermal undies instead of saving every penny for a rainy day that turned into a blizzard.

Not that it mattered, anyway. He never got to bring in his savings while escaping.

Nevertheless, beneath the layers of frost and torn fabric, his heart burned hotter than a dragon's breath.

That woman, the one who shattered his heart like a glass slipper, was now just a bitter memory. Love was lost, but hey, at least he still had his dignity.

Well, most of it at least.

"Now where should I go?" Vyan pondered. "Should I clean up and try to find a job outside of Cantace? Once I save up enough, I can come back for revenge—"

As someone harshly pushed Vyan to make way for themselves and he hit the concrete like a sack of potatoes, he realized he was less of a knight in shining armor and more like a jester in tinfoil.

Seriously, who was he kidding with all this brooding anti-hero nonsense? His life was more tragic comedy than epic revenge drama.

The sorceress, Iyana, was the director of his puppet show, and she was killing it with her performance —award-worthy levels of manipulation and deceit. Seriously, he should have known better than to fall for her act. But how would he? After all, it seemed like his love was blind and apparently also deaf to warning signs.

His life before her was like a black-and-white movie marathon on repeat—boring, predictable, and in desperate need of some color correction.

But now, with her in the picture, it was like someone had cranked up the saturation to the max and then thrown in a plot twist worthy of a dark, thriller novel.

And let's not forget the supporting cast of characters who made his slice-of-life episodes hell. The bullies, the backstabbers, and the haughty nobles. They all had a role to play in adding tragedy to his life story.

So here he was, face down in his palms on a sidewalk, crying his eyes out like a rejected extra in a melodrama.

It was a real tear-jerker moment, but not in the way he imagined when he practiced his best knight award acceptance speech in the shower, handed over to him by his former master.

But hey, maybe letting it all out would help. This broken soul could only pray that it was the first step to claiming his villain crown: he needed to break beyond repair.

After all, everyone loves a villain who lacks a heart, right? At least that's what he hoped, as he wiped his snotty nose on his sleeve and prepared for the next ridiculous plot twist in the joke called his life.

Vyan's existential crisis was reaching peak melodrama levels. He felt like he was being dragged through the nine circles of hell, and he hadn't even packed his sunscreen, so he was getting quite the brunt.

"I don't know yet how I will do it, but I will definitely take my revenge on you, Iyana Pearl Estelle. I will definitely kill you with my own bare hands," he muttered his threats to Iyana like a bone-chilling antagonist in a high-budget theater drama, and then, he broke down into more tears like a damsel-in-distress female protagonist.

"But seriously, what am I going to do? I have no money, power, or strength… I have nothing!"

He couldn't help but wonder if the divine hotline was on hold. Did the Big Guy upstairs only take calls from silver spoon-fed aristocrats? If so, someone seriously needed to update the celestial contact list.

And speaking of silver spoons, why couldn't he have been born into one of those fancy-pants noble families with more power than a charging rhino? Instead, he got stuck with a life that wasn't even worth mentioning as a background character in a novel.

Thanks a lot for that, stupid Goddess. Thanks for giving me absolutely nothing in this world full of everything, he thought sarcastically.

Suddenly, a voice, more startling than the surprise that Iyana gave him, interrupted his self-pity party, 'How dare you say that?'

"Huh?" Vyan seized crying and twisted his head around, looking for the angry female voice that had just spoken up.

'What are you looking around? You won't see me. After all, I am where your eyes can never reach,' said the voice in his head, now sounding serene.

"What?" Has Vyan finally lost it? Maybe the blood loss was causing him delusions.

'I am not a delusion. I am Hecate,' she stated like a poised queen.

"Am I supposed to recognize you?" he wondered cluelessly.

'Oh, my foolish child. Bless your clueless heart. There is only one existence with that name. Don't you know?' she sounded amused.

"Nope. I have finally lost it. Forget my revenge at the moment. I need to gather money to see a physician first." He was about to stand up on his feet when the name Hecate rang a bell. "Wait a minute… Hecate, the Goddess of Magic?"

A sweet laughter rang in his ears, sounding like honey dripping from a celestial hive. 'Yes, my child. I am that Goddess you were just cursing earlier.'

"Considering you are not a pesky mage playing dirty tricks on me, why are you talking to someone like me? I am not an aristocrat that you should be wasting your breath on." He frowned, not exactly impressed or thrilled a goddess out of all beings was bothering him.

'Because I am hurt that you accused me of giving you nothing when I have given you more than anybody else,' she responded.

"Are the heavens up there stocked with drugs? Because you sound high," he deadpanned. "Now, either that or I was born blind. Because I see nothing that you claim to have given me."

'Patience, my child, patience. Everything will come to you when the time is right. Good things take time, no?'

"Well, harsh fact: I will end up six feet under the soil before your so-called right time comes. So don't waste my time anymore and get out of my head."

The supposed goddess let out a defeated sigh. 'Fine. Since you are so displeased with me, I will give you back what is truly yours. Consider it a gift, my dear child.'

"Huh? What gift–"

Just then, something stirred deep within him, like a dormant volcano suddenly remembering it had a hot date with destruction. The black aura swirling around him was less a beloved gift and more an accidental summoner of chaos.

The bystanders, who were probably used to drama but not quite apocalypse-level drama, started paying attention now. They had not even stopped to second-glance at Vyan who was apparently talking to himself.

But before they could say, "what the heck," Vyan unleashed a shockwave that made the marketplace vanish faster than a magician's assistant in a box trick.

Standing amidst the post-apocalyptic wasteland like a lost soul in a dystopian novel, Vyan's brain struggled to catch up with the sudden turn of events.

"What in the world…" he stammered, looking around like he had stumbled into a drought area with not a single life form in sight. "What the hell did that voice in my head do? This is your gift? What the fuck? Come on, take it back!"

No response came anymore.

"Fuck this shit."

Survival instincts kicked in faster than his brain could process, and he booked it like a contestant on a marathon. He was already on the run from the law; he didn't need a ticket to whatever cosmic catastrophe just went down.

Nope, not today, apocalypse, not today. I will not be caught dead in that barren land, not even by a goddess.

As Vyan sprinted through the streets like a cheetah, he quickly realized that cardio was not his forte. Seriously, who knew running away from your problems could be so exhausting?

Just when he was about to collapse in a dramatic heap of exhaustion, fate decided to throw him a curveball in the form of a collision with an elderly gent.

Smooth move, Goddess. Real smooth. I really, really don't like you.

"Sorry about that—" Vyan began, but before he could finish his apology, the old man's eyes widened like he had just seen a ghost. Considering Vyan's luck and this goddess messing with him, it would not surprise him if ghosts were next on the agenda.

"You are… my master."

"No, I am not a ghos—" Say what now?