The Villains Must Win

Chapter 358: Alistair Cain 18

A scream tore through the chambers.

Not hers.

A cultist at the far end staggered back, clutching his throat. Blood sprayed through his fingers, painting the stone floor in dark crimson.

"What—?!" someone shouted.

Chaos erupted.

A blur of black tore through the chamber, faster than Selene’s eyes could follow. Another cultist fell, then another. Bodies collapsed like broken dolls.

The chanting shattered.

"INTRUDER!" someone screamed.

Torches flickered violently as a cold wind surged through the underground hall. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, crawling along the walls like living things.

The cult leader spun around.

A figure stood at the entrance.

Tall. Lean. Dressed in dark attire that blended seamlessly with the night. His dark hair fell loosely around sharp features, his eyes glowing an unnatural amber.

Selene’s breath caught.

Oh.

Lord Alistair Cain.

The name alone rippled through the underground chamber like a curse. The cultists froze mid-chant, their voices dying in their throats as if something ancient had clawed the sound from their lungs.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me," Alistair said lazily, his tone almost bored. "I’ve come to take it back."

Selene’s heart nearly burst from her chest.

He came.

She almost cried from relief.

She didn’t care that he spoke of her like an object. At that moment, she would have gladly been a possession, a trinket, a cursed relic—anything, as long as it meant rescue.

Pride could wait. Survival came first.

The cult leader snarled. "Kill him!"

They rushed.

Big mistake.

Alistair moved like smoke.

One moment he stood before them, calm and unmoved. The next—he vanished. Screams tore through the chamber. Bodies were flung aside as if struck by invisible hands. Stone cracked. Bones snapped like brittle branches. Blood sprayed across the altar, painting ancient runes crimson.

Selene stared, frozen in awe.

This wasn’t combat.

This was a massacre.

The cultists tried to fight back—daggers raised, spells half-formed—but what could they do against a Vampire Lord who commanded the arcane essence of blood itself?

Alistair lifted one hand.

Blood answered.

It ripped from their veins.

Men screamed as their own lifeforce betrayed them. Flesh burst apart grotesquely, bodies collapsing like hollowed shells. Blood spiraled through the air, forming twisted patterns around Alistair’s fingers.

Selene swallowed hard.

This reminded her of Lucian.

The same merciless efficiency. The same terrifying elegance. The way death bowed before them both.

One by one, the surviving cultists fled, tripping over corpses, sobbing prayers as they disappeared into the shadows.

However, none survive as their own blood burst out, tearing their flesh.

Soon, silence reclaimed the chamber.

Only dripping blood remained.

Alistair turned.

His cold, stoic face filled Selene’s vision. She noticed the slight twitch of his eyelid—the only sign of irritation he ever allowed himself. He was furious.

"Just one day outside," he said flatly, "and you already manage to get yourself kidnapped."

Selene flinched.

"I—I’m sorry, my lord," she rushed. "I thought the school grounds were safe! I stayed in the sunlight like you told me, and I only went to the lake. Who would’ve thought cultists would be lurking there?!"

She lowered her gaze, shoulders trembling.

Alistair stared at her.

She could practically feel him debating whether to kill her or drag her home.

"I... I will accept any punishment you see fit, my lord," she said meekly. "For causing you trouble."

That did the trick.

With a flick of his wrist, crimson energy sliced through the ropes binding her. They fell apart like burnt threads.

Selene gasped as circulation returned to her limbs.

Before she could move, Alistair removed his cloak and draped it over her naked body, shielding her from the cold and the humiliating exposure.

Then—

He scooped her up.

Princess style.

Selene’s breath hitched.

Her face burned. Thought the soul inside her was rejoicing.

"T-thank you, my lord," she whispered. "You... you came for me."

"I simply don’t like others stealing what’s mine," he replied coolly.

Selene inwardly smirked.

A tsundere vampire lord. Not bad at all.

Before she could say another thanks, crimson liquid coiled around them like living silk. It wrapped tightly—

And the world shattered.

They vanished.

The sudden teleportation made Selene dizzy.

Her stomach flipped violently.

Then—

Darkness.

"Curse this weak human body," she muttered faintly before passing out.

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was warmth.

The second—silk sheets.

She blinked slowly.

The room was massive. Tall arched windows were draped in heavy velvet curtains. Candlelight flickered against black stone walls. Ancient bookshelves lined the room, filled with dusty tomes. Everything screamed power.

She turned her head.

Alistair sat in a carved obsidian chair, legs crossed, chin resting against his knuckles.

Like a bored king.

Watching her.

"Good," he said. "You’re awake."

Selene tried to sit up, but dizziness washed over her.

"Steady your breathing," Alistair said calmly. "Teleportation affects humans quite severely."

Selene clutched the silk sheets, her chest rising and falling erratically. Her lungs burned, but she forced herself to inhale slowly.

In.

Out.

Again.

After a few minutes, the dizziness finally subsided. Her heartbeat slowed, and warmth returned to her fingers.

"My lord..." she whispered. "I’m sorry. Did I sleep too long?"

Alistair’s gaze never left her.

"It’s almost morning."

Her eyes widened slightly. She turned toward the window. Thick curtains still blocked the outside world, but a faint silver glow seeped through the edges.

"Oh..."

Silence stretched.

Then—

"I’m waiting," he said.

Selene blinked. "M-my lord?"

He shifted in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, movements lazy yet deliberate. "You promised you would please me. And you agreed to accept punishment for getting yourself kidnapped and causing unnecessary trouble for me."

Her stomach tightened.

Ah. Right.

She exhaled slowly, gathering her courage.

"T-then, my lord..."

Her fingers trembled as she lifted the edge of the silk sheet. It slid down her shoulders, cool against her skin, pooling around her waist.

The room felt suddenly colder—yet his gaze burned.

"I will try my best to please you," she said softly.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Alistair simply watched her.

His amber eyes darkened, shadows pooling within them like storm clouds.

But he didn’t move.