A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

The mechanical armor of the Etheric Academy has disintegrated.

Not long after its frenzied rampage, this gold-devouring beast, which had consumed untold resources, collapsed into a heap of scrap metal.

Now, no one dares to speak, and the grand hall of the palace is silent as the grave.

The light screen projects the chaotic battlefield.

It's no exaggeration to say that this vast plain has almost been bombed into a basin by the Black Knight. Its sword can tear a chasm in the earth, and his blade can lift the ground, not to mention the array of light-essence spells known for their energy output.

For the Etheric Academy, there is good news and bad news.

The good news is that they have proven that the mechanical armor is indeed a formidable entity. Although the alchemical fortress is undoubtedly the pinnacle of alchemical creations, combining functionality and lethality, the existence of the mechanical armor has subtly surpassed the Alchemical Fortress in terms of "destruction".

Even if its pure output cannot reach the level of the alchemical fortress, its high mobility and malleability ensure that it has great prospects for future development and improvement.

The bad news is, well...

Because of this accident, it is now impossible to determine who won and who lost.

If someone now dared to step forward and say, "Since the situation has reached this point, let's consider it a draw between the empress and the elder princess," all the nobles and ministers present would have to thank his entire family and promise to take good care of his wife and sons and daughters.

After all, this is the reality. These two great devils need a way out, but the person who provides that way out is basically doomed to not even have a complete corpse left, probably being burned to death on the spot.

So... many people quietly turned their eyes to Ansel.

If anyone could provide a way out and come out unscathed...

Lord Ansel, you surely won't let us down, right?

Amidst some hopeful gazes, Ansel, who was staring at the light screen, suddenly said, "Hmm... it seems there are still survivors."

The hearts of the noble ministers sank.

Lord Ansel, you're confused!

If there are survivors, it means that this war is not over yet.

Both sides have used all their means, and who wins and who loses now is entirely a matter of luck.

If the empress wins, who knows how many people will suffer from the princess's anger; and if the elder princess wins...

The ministers and nobles dare not think about what will happen next.

So they felt a pang in their hearts, thinking that the always balanced and agile Lord Ansel had suddenly made such a big mistake at this time.

Wouldn't it be better for everyone to let this matter pass?

Or is it... that this young Hydral, at this moment, still has his own considerations?

The image on the light screen gradually enlarged, and then enlarged again. A blood-soaked young man, unrecognizable, struggled to crawl out of the rubble. He was panting heavily, his voice hoarse and intermittent, as if his lungs had been torn open.

Even though he was in such a sorry state, it wouldn't be surprising if he died the next second, Cedric Watson fell to his knees and howled madly at the sky: "I won! I won! Hahaha! I won!"

The nobles felt as if their scalps were about to split. After all, as a lord, it's normal to bring some life-saving alchemical items in this kind of war and survive by luck.

But if you survive, why do you have to seek death?

"Win?"

Sure enough, the empress, who had been in a good mood and hadn't been so happy for a long time, sneered, "He said he won?"

The nobles and ministers remained silent. Now... even if someone provides a way out, this matter cannot end.

A winner must be determined here.

Ephesande's gaze swept across the light screen and immediately settled on a certain point.

She raised her hand expressionlessly, and with that, the battlefield thousands of miles away began to tremble and hum.

In the ruins where the empress was looking, a figure that looked even more miserable than Count Watson, was pulled out from the rubble and soil with her raised hand and thrown on the ground.

His four limbs were all broken, and he was still bleeding profusely. If it weren't for the alchemical item emitting a glow in his chest that was keeping him alive, he would have died long ago.

Without a doubt, the only person who could possess a powerful life-saving item in this war, apart from Count Watson, was the Count of Spirity Lake.

"Only these two are left, and the others are all dead? Heh, just right."

The old face showed a cruel and ferocious smile, "Since there are still two left, let this duel start again. The last one standing is the winner!"

When she said this, the power in her body slowly surged, as if she was going to restore these two people at the same time and let them fight again in their prime.

"You—" Evora turned around with angry eyes, "This is war! Not a duel!"

After all, if the war continues, it's clear who will win and who will lose.

"This is not a war, nor a duel."

Ephesande looked down at her daughter expressionlessly, "It's my, game."

"How the game rules are, I decide, Evora. So now, I say this is a duel, then it's a duel."

Just as Evora was on the brink of uncontrollable fury, and Ephesande was about to restore the two lords, the young man who had initially caused the trouble suddenly spoke up:

"Your Majesty, I believe this is unfair."

"..."

The nobles were chilled to the bone by these words. Even the grand dukes, who were always composed and never showed their emotions, twitched at the corners of their eyes.

Ephesande slowly turned his head, staring at Ansel's face: "Ansel, what did you just say?"

"I said, this is unfair," the young Hydral replied with neither arrogance nor humility.

"Fair...hahaha, fair? Ansel, are you sure you want to discuss fairness with me?"

Ephesande burst into wild laughter, and the anger in her laughter was so vivid that it made the ministers tremble.

"Of course," Ansel said calmly, "because this is unfair to you, Your Majesty."

Lord Ansel, please don't...

...Hmm?

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