Ascension Of The Villain

He was falling.

Again.

It was beginning to feel like a pattern—this free-fall through some unseen space, like time itself had a personal vendetta against him. Air rushed past his ears in deafening silence, and a strange pressure coiled in his chest. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Déjà vu whispered at the edges of his thoughts. Haven't I done this before? The memory pressed against him. Modern Earth. The fall. The collision into an unfamiliar world where nothing made sense. The little boy. The copy of him. The woman who looked like her, but wasn't.

This felt the same.

And yet… not quite.

Something was off.

Wait. A cold realization slid into place.

He hadn't picked anything this time.

Last time, he'd chosen. He'd stood in that place between timelines—had watched a thousand lives flicker past him, and he'd picked the one he wanted to change. After that, he was thrown out of the past and punished with a random world.

But this time? Was he again falling into a random world?

Seriously, where the hell am I falling now?

Panic crept in, slow and quiet like water seeping through cracks. In the midst of that storm, his mana had responded; he gathered enough mana, and the time spell had activated… but the destination?

Unclear. He hadn't been given the option to select.

He clenched his teeth as wind ripped past him. The world below was blue—just blue.

The sea.

Again.

He didn't even have time to curse out loud before the ocean caught him like a stone hurled from heaven.

The impact was brutal.

It knocked the breath from his lungs and sent a shockwave through his bones. He plunged beneath the surface. Salt rushed into his mouth. His ears rang. Water filled every crevice, pressing into him with terrifying patience.

Oh for fuck's sake, can I stop drowning already?! I hate the fucking sea! he mentally shouted, somewhere between fury and exhaustion.

He tried to move his limbs, but his body was still in shock from the fall. The muscles wouldn't obey. He sank deeper, the light above blurring, his lungs beginning to scream.

He was about to try using magic when—

Something caught him.

A sudden pull upward.

A net?

He felt it wrap around his chest, his arm, and one of his legs. Threads tangled with his clothes. Something rough, coarse. Lifting him up.

He was being pulled.

Relief rushed through him so fast it was dizzying. He didn't fight it. He had no pride left to protect anymore. Whatever it was, whoever it was—thank the stars for them.

The surface broke around him in a crashing rush of light and air.

He gasped.

Coughed.

Inhaled real air with desperation, choking and shivering as he was dragged up, up, and finally dropped, unceremoniously, into the bottom of a fishing boat.

He landed hard, body folding awkwardly into itself, tangled in seaweed and rope and—

Fish.

He blinked.

Fish. Dozens of them.

Slippery, cold, half-flopping. Silver bodies piled in the wooden hull around him.

He barely registered the shouting voices nearby. Men moving, someone rushing over to check if he was breathing, another hauling in the net.

Vyan lay there in silence, soaked and stunned, his cheek pressed against the damp scales of something unblinking.

He was with the fishes.

And oddly, that didn't bother him.

He was alive.

He wasn't drowning.

The sky above was open. And it was full of mana. Abundant mana.

Salt still clung to his lips as Vyan pushed himself up, his hands steadying against the wooden planks of the fishing boat's deck. His limbs ached, his hair stuck to his forehead in damp waves.

He turned toward the two men at the far end of the vessel—fishermen, judging by the nets and the faint scent of brine and bait clinging to them like a second skin.

Vyan straightened slowly. His voice came out rough, a bit hoarse from all the ocean he'd unwillingly inhaled. Sure, there was mana here, but he had to be sure in case he was being delusional, so he asked, "What world is this? And where exactly… are we?"

The two men looked at each other. Not alarmed, but definitely concerned. The older one, with deep-set eyes and graying stubble, leaned back slightly. The younger one, tall and wiry, muttered something under his breath, which sounded awfully like, "we picked up a crazy man, I tell you."

"Please," he urged, more polite this time. "Answer me. Where are we?"

The older man cautiously stepped forward. "We are sailing the Trycone Sea."

The Trycone Sea.

His heart surged with recognition. His eyes widened, chest rising with a slow, disbelieving breath.

He knew that name well. It bordered the northern edge of Haynes. It kissed the outer coastlines of Ashstone, covered nearly a fifth of its borders, where he owned a seaport. He had fallen into this sea once before, too, back when he still wasn't proficient with the teleportation magic.

"I'm home," he whispered.

And then, like warmth rising through his soul, a voice stirred within the hollow of his mind.

"So you're back, child. You seem happy."

His head jerked up slightly, and an unguarded laugh escaped him.

"Oh, Goddess Hecate?" he breathed. "It's really you?"

"Of course it is. How many other deities are you favorable towards, huh?"

"I can't believe it—I didn't even select the timeline. I thought I botched the whole thing."

There was a gentle exhale of amusement in his mind. "That's because you didn't choose. I did. You were far too out of it to make a coherent decision. Who knows where you would've ended up? Maybe in a world where the love of your life married someone else."

His stomach twisted at the thought.

"Oh, no, no. Hell no. Thanks a lot. Thank you, really." He grinned, hand to his heart. He couldn't stop being happy, because he was truly, truly happy to be home. "You are absolutely the best. I love you. I promise I'll be offering the largest amounts of offerings from now on, even more than the imperial family."

"Don't be dramatic," she said, though her voice held a smile.

The two fishermen, meanwhile, were watching all of this in silence.

"That boy is crazy, eh?" the older man let out in amusement.

"Definitely crazy."

Vyan's eyes lit up. He turned to them, lips parting with a tone that attempted both politeness and urgency. "Would it be too much to ask if you could take me back to shore?"

The younger man narrowed his eyes. "We still have hours left. The day's catch isn't even half done. We don't just drop our nets because a random sea guy tells us to."

"I understand that," Vyan said smoothly, "but you don't have to worry, I'll compensate you generously."

That made them pause.

The older one gave him a long look. "You don't… look like someone who could pay us."

Vyan glanced down at himself.

Right. His clothes were simple now—just a soaked, salt-stained coat over a buttoned vest and linen shirt. His expensive jewels and accessories were gone, except for his earring and necklace. Even his boots had lost their polish in the ocean's tantrum.

He looked like any traveler, probably even worse.

Still, he offered a breezy smile. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's just been a rough ride. I assure you, I'm the Grand Duke of Ashstone."

The two looked at each other. Then back at him.

"…Right," the younger one said slowly, tone flat. "You're definitely sun-struck."

"On second thought," Vyan said with a sigh, brushing hair from his forehead, "you don't have to take me. I've got my mana back now. I'll teleport myself."

He grinned and took a step toward the boat's edge, lifting a hand.

But before he could conjure the spell, the older fisherman stepped closer, peering at him like he'd misheard. "Did you just say you're the Grand Duke of Ashstone?"

Vyan turned his head, smiling again. "Yeah. Why?"

There was a long, pointed silence.

The older man stared at him.

The younger one laughed once under his breath and muttered, "Sure. If you are the Grand Duke of Ashstone, I'm the Emperor of Haynes."

"No, seriously," Vyan said, confused now. "Why are you reacting like that?"

The older man exhaled, folding his arms. "Because the Grand Duke of Ashstone has been missing."

"For a year," the younger man added. "Some say he's dead."

Vyan's smile froze.

His mind stilled.

"Pardon?" he said slowly, his voice a little hollow now. "How long exactly did you say?"