The Nightbane estate stretched like a fortress of shadow and stone, looming over the city below. Its towers reached toward the sky, shrouded in mist that refused to lift even as morning sunlight spilled across the world.
Adrian—now inhabiting the despised body of Caelum Nightbane—walked through its courtyards slowly, deliberately. His steps rang against the polished stone paths, and every passing servant bowed hastily, their eyes fixed on the ground.
None dared meet his gaze for long. Yet their whispers followed him.
"Young master Caelum looks different today."
"His eyes… sharper, colder."
"Don't be fooled. He's still the disgrace of the clan."
Their voices were soft, but Adrian caught each one. His senses felt heightened since the transmigration, as if the system itself sharpened his awareness.
He didn't mind their disdain. In fact, he welcomed it. A villain didn't need love—he needed fear.
The heavy doors of the clan's dining hall opened before him. Inside, chandeliers cast warm light over a long table lined with dishes of steaming food and seated relatives. The air buzzed with chatter that dimmed the moment Adrian entered.
The hall's atmosphere shifted. Conversations faltered. All eyes turned.
At the head of the table sat Patriarch Aldric Nightbane—Caelum's father. His presence was sharp, commanding, and utterly devoid of warmth. His gaze fell on Adrian like a blade.
"You're late." His tone was cold, unforgiving.
Adrian inclined his head. "I had much to reflect on."
The words were simple, but they landed heavily. Caelum had never spoken with restraint before. He was known for arrogance, for drunken outbursts, for sneering at authority.
Now, silence followed his calm reply.
The patriarch studied him for a moment, then turned away with a frown. "Sit."
Adrian moved to his seat. Along the way, he felt the weight of dozens of eyes—elders with thinly veiled contempt, cousins with mocking smirks, and servants who looked as if they wished to vanish.
Among them was one whose smile was different.
Darius Nightbane.
Adrian's gaze lingered on him.
Darius was polished, refined, every bit the model young master Caelum had failed to be. His robes were immaculate, his posture perfect, his aura sharp. He smiled politely at Adrian, warmth on the surface but venom beneath.
"Cousin," Darius said smoothly, raising his cup. "It's good to see you sober for once."
A ripple of laughter followed from nearby relatives.
Adrian met his eyes calmly. "Careful, cousin. Even sobriety doesn't dull the taste of poison."
The table fell silent. Darius's smile froze for a split second before curving wider, as if amused. "You joke too darkly, cousin. One might think you suspect ill will within your own family."
"Do I?" Adrian asked softly. He took his seat without breaking eye contact.
The tension lingered until the elders resumed their discussions—trade agreements, cultivation resources, border disputes. Adrian said little, but his silence itself felt heavier than words.
When the meal ended, he excused himself. As he left, he caught the faintest twitch of Darius's lips. A smile too practiced, too satisfied.
A predator's smile.
---
That night, Adrian sat in his chamber. The suite was luxurious but chaotic—wine bottles scattered, silken robes carelessly thrown about, the legacy of Caelum's wasteful indulgence.
He poured a glass of water from the decanter on his table. The faint shimmer on its surface made him pause.
Poison.
He set it down untouched, lips curving coldly.
"So, cousin," he murmured. "Already sharpening the knife?"
He leaned back in his chair, waiting. The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of lantern light.
Then he heard it.
A whisper of movement against the window frame. The near-imperceptible scrape of metal. The air shifted.
Adrian's eyes stayed half-lidded, body relaxed, as shadows slipped into the chamber.
Three figures, masked and cloaked, moved with lethal precision. Their blades gleamed faintly in the lantern light as they crept closer.
The lead assassin raised his dagger, aiming for Adrian's throat.
Adrian moved.
His hand shot out like lightning, seizing the man's wrist mid-strike. The assassin's eyes widened as Adrian twisted sharply—bone snapped with a sickening crack, and the dagger clattered to the floor.
The other two lunged, but Adrian hurled the first man into them, sending all three sprawling. In the chaos, he seized the fallen dagger and slashed in one smooth motion, cutting across the nearest attacker's chest. Blood sprayed, staining the silk carpet.
The third assassin recovered quickly, blade slashing through the air. Adrian ducked low, pivoted, and drove his elbow into the man's jaw with a crack. The assassin collapsed, stunned.
Breathing calm and steady, Adrian looked down at the writhing figures.
"So predictable," he muttered. "Did Darius truly think Caelum was still alive in here?"
The system's hum filled his mind.
[Villain System Notification]
Mission: Blood Ties, Blood Betrayal
Condition 1: Survive → Completed.
Condition 2: Subjugate Rival → In Progress.
Reward Progress: +50 Villain Points
Adrian wiped the blade clean, crouching beside one of the assassins still conscious.
"Tell me," he said softly. "Who sent you?"
The man's lips tightened. Fear flickered in his eyes, but he shook his head.
Adrian pressed the dagger lightly against his throat. His voice dropped, low and cutting. "I'll ask once. Lie or stay silent, and your last breath will be wasted."
The assassin trembled. Blood trickled from his mouth. His will cracked.
"Y-young master Darius!" he stammered. "He ordered us—said you were drunk, useless. That tonight was perfect to strike."
Adrian's expression didn't change. His lips curved faintly, cold and satisfied.
"Good."
With a swift motion, he silenced the man forever. The room returned to stillness, broken only by the drip of blood on stone.
Adrian stood and walked to the window, gazing across the estate. In the distance, a wing of the mansion glowed faintly with lantern light. Darius's residence.
His grip tightened on the dagger.
"You should have aimed for my heart, cousin," he whispered, voice laced with venom. "Because now, I won't miss yours."
The system pulsed again, faintly glowing as if savoring his malice.
[Mission Progress: Subjugate Rival – 50%]
Next Condition: Strike fear into the target.
Adrian's eyes narrowed. Tomorrow, the game would begin in earnest.
No longer the clan's fool, no longer its shame—he would carve his name into the Nightbane legacy with blood and terror.
And Darius would be the first to kneel.