No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 129 A Curse

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Year: 1738

Date: 26

Month: Solarise 

Time: 7:00AM

Inside an opulent chamber adorned with intricate designs, every detail exuded elegance and grandeur. The room emanated an aura of luxury and refinement, enveloping the senses in a tapestry of indulgence.

At the heart of the room stood a majestic bed, its ornate frame commanding attention. The meticulously crafted woodwork displayed intricate carvings of mythical creatures and intertwining vines. The silky canopy, cascading from the ceiling, created an intimate haven within the vast expanse of the chamber.

As the two figures lay upon the sumptuous mattress, the bed emitted a soft creaking sound, whispering secrets of past encounters and passionate nights. The weight of their bodies caused the mattress to yield, enveloping them in a cocoon of comfort.

"Haa... haa..." gasped the man beneath the velvety blanket, his breath heavy with exhaustion. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, evidence of the fervent passion that had consumed them.

"Angh....no prince,no-not that fast, ahhhhhh." As the man began swinging his hips more violently, the women underneath cried in anguish.

His eyes were out of focus as he humped like a beast, as if trying to devour her whole.

"I can't!.....ugh No longer! It hurts! Aghhh," She never expected to be in this much pain when she accepted the job of feeding the prince's sexual demands, and the tears began to stream down her cheeks as she wailed in anguish.

The man with fiery red hair and piercing red eyes, his face partially concealed by a plain white mask, was none other than the first prince of the Hestia Empire.

Aron Adiel Velcrow.

Infamous for his personality, he had earned a reputation as a notorious womanizer, known for his forceful and aggressive approach towards them.

"Agh," he groaned as the blood from the prostitute's vagina splittered all over the white bedsheet as she moaned in anguish.

It wasn't her first time being with someone hard, but the way prince Aron was...as if he loathed it, he hated the person in front of him, and.....just wanted to kill her in the midst of the pleasure deed.

It was last night.....one of the royal guards came down to the brothel downtown in the imperial capital and inquired if anyone was willing to serve the prince for a night for a large sum of money.

Enough to last her a year...so because she was the most gorgeous lady in the brothel, she was given a chance.

"Get the fucked out of here!" As he rolled to the bedside, Aron cursed.

As if a rush of optimism washed over her, she grasped the bedsheet as she struggled to stand up-

"Ugh," she groaned in anguish as she felt her crotch throb, the whole area destroyed...the blood looked disgusting, and her leg? They were absolutely useless at the time, and she couldn't just use Mana to improve them.

The lady tumbled out of the bed, landing on the floor with a resounding thud. Aron, seemingly fatigued, covered his eyes with his hand, paying no heed to her fall.

Crawling on all fours, the lady made her way out of the room, leaving behind traces of blood on the pristine marble floor.

As soon as the woman departed from the bedroom, Aron rose to his feet. 

Gritting his teeth, he removed the mask that had concealed the left portion of his face, revealing a stark contrast between the two sides. 

"She was terrible," Aron huffed in frustration.

His left side bore the visage of a devastating burn, disfiguring his once handsome features. It was as if two distinct personas were etched onto his face - one side resembling that of a noble prince, while the other exuding the grotesque appearance of a monster.

Click.

"Prince," a voice echoed as footsteps approached, intruding upon his privacy without permission.

Flip.I think you should take a look at

Quickly, he adorned a mask to conceal his scarred face, a sight he deemed unworthy of anyone's gaze. It was his vulnerability, a weakness he chose to shield from the world.

Apart from his immediate family, no one in the royal court or the entire Hestia Empire knew the true reason behind the prince's constant masking. All they saw was a man deemed unworthy of the crown, known for his arrogance and tyrannical nature. In their eyes, he was someone who did not deserve to....live.

"What is it, Caelia?" he asked, his gaze fixated elsewhere, showing little interest in the woman who had just entered.

Caelia, a young woman of 19, possessed a striking appearance with her lustrous blue hair cascading down to her waist. Her piercing blue eyes held a glint of determination, complementing her sharp features. Clad in polished silver armor, she exuded an air of nobility and strength, ready to fulfill her duties as a reputable knight.

"The king wishes to see you, First Prince," Caelia responded tersely, her words lacking any warmth or consideration for the young man before her. Each time she laid eyes on him, she felt a surge of disgust rise within her, repulsed by his actions.

Unlike Aron, whom she regarded as lower than the worms that crawled in the depths of hell, Caelia hailed from a reputable knightly lineage. She had her own duties, her own life, until...

The day she was assigned as the personal guard to the First Prince. She had known Aron for a long time, even before he became the person he is now. But to her, he had become nothing more than a suffocating presence. Being around him felt like being trapped in a stifling atmosphere, as if the air had grown thin, making it difficult for her to breathe.

Even as she entered the chamber, Caelia couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the woman who had departed before her. The blood stains left behind were a gruesome sight.

"Get out. I will come as I please," Aron dismissed the knight without sparing her a second glance. Caelia felt a surge of relief knowing that she wouldn't have to endure his repugnant presence any longer. With a stiff bow, she hastily made her exit, casting a final glance at her long-lost friend.

After Caelia departed, Aron rose from the bed and made his way into the bath chamber. As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, his fingers traced the intricate tattoo of a coiling snake around his neck. With a bitter expression, he muttered to himself, "Truly a repugnant individual, Indeed"

It had been a few days since his return from the imperial academy, and Aron reveled in the freedom to indulge his carnal desires without the constraints of academic life. However, the time had come for him to return.

"Adam Stales... I will kill him for stealing..." Aron's voice trailed off as his attention was abruptly drawn to a peculiar phenomenon unfolding in his bathtub. A small tornado began to form, swirling with intensity.

"What the...!" Aron exclaimed, swiftly donning his mask to conceal his scarred face. He assumed a defensive stance, prepared for whatever might emerge from the swirling vortex.

As the tornado of air continued to grow, it started to absorb the water from the tub, taking on a discernible shape.

The swirling vortex of air gradually transformed into the ethereal visage of a woman's face. Delicate features emerged, framed by wisps of misty air. Her eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow, captivating and enigmatic.

Aron's gaze locked with the woman's spectral countenance, his heart pounding in anticipation. Who was she, and what did she seek within the confines of his chamber?

"Oh there! You are!" the sweet voice chimed from the visage.

Fush*

As Aron swiftly conjured a wind blade and launched it towards the ethereal visage, expecting to sever the connection, his attack passed right through the apparition. To his surprise, the wind blade collided with the wall behind the specter, causing a small explosion of dust and debris.

Aron's eyes widened in astonishment as he realized that his attack had failed to dissipate the mysterious presence before him. The woman's ethereal form remained unscathed, her expression unchanging.

"Impossible," Aron muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and disbelief. He had underestimated the power and nature of this enigmatic entity.

"Oops, don't tell me you were attempting to harm the Goddess of Wind herself... with a mere wind spell," the visage chuckled in an alluring manner. Aron stepped backward, attempting to create distance between himself and the apparition. 

"!?"However, his retreat was halted abruptly as he realized he had backed into a mirror.

She extended her left arm, her delicate fingers deftly reaching out to remove Aron's mask. Despite his attempts to keep it firmly in place, her touch was unfathomably powerful, effortlessly pulling the mask away. Exposed and vulnerable, Aron's scarred face was now fully visible to Hera, the self-proclaimed Goddess of Wind.

"Aron Adiel Velcrow, I am Hera, the Goddess of Wind," she declared, her voice carrying an air of authority and mystique. "I seek your assistance."

Caught off guard by her revelation, Aron's initial response was driven by his own self-interest. "What's in it for me?" he blurted out, unable to suppress his desire for personal gain. He momentarily forgot to question the authenticity of her claims or her true intentions.

After a momentary pause, Hera's gaze bore into his soul. "A curse," she replied with a solemn tone. "I will cure it... once our task is complete."

Aron's heart skipped a beat as the weight of her words sank in. Could she truly offer a solution to the curse that had haunted him for so long? 

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