The Villainous Me Turned the Losers into Blackened Bosses-Chapter 230 - Treya’s Duel

—

That day, Treya noticed something strange—he seemed to care a lot about her left eye.

The eye that could see others’ “injuries,” a symbol of the elves’ “purity” and “beauty.”

—

“One day—perhaps a year from now—when the strongest symbol of Entark, Emperor Edward, passes away due to illness,” Will said, pointing at the royal family power chart he had drawn by hand. “Then...”

“What will happen?”

“If he doesn’t leave a ‘will’ in time...” Treya murmured, her gaze falling on Eugenie’s portrait. The shadow of Will’s finger partially obscured her face, making it look as ambiguous as her usual tone when she spoke.

“Then there will be inevitable infighting among us siblings. We’ll stop at nothing to claim the throne, no matter the cost.”

“A good generic answer—basically, you said everything and nothing at the same time.”

“Professor Will, are you criticizing me?”

“Nope. I’m just pointing out the issue with your answer—it’s not about you.”

Will gave an awkward smile and began connecting points on the paper.

“Let’s hypothesize—just hypothesize—that the Seventh Princess is implicated for covering up the Fourth Prince’s collusion with foreign enemies. For example, accepting bribes during wartime and pocketing them. Both of them would then be forced to withdraw from the fight.”

He drew crosses over their portraits.

“Mm.”

“Now, among the remaining contenders, what would everyone do?”

“Hmm... I think Eugenie and the Fifth Prince wouldn’t be able to do much,” Treya said, drawing crosses over their portraits as well.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“The Fifth Prince is her younger brother and relies entirely on her resources. And Eugenie... well, she’s basically useless now.”

“Fair enough. That’s something I didn’t know before...” Will said in a tone that made him sound like a “prophet.” “Ahem, that wasn’t part of my hypothesis. Alright, what’s next?”

“I don’t know...”

“First comes the duel between the martial factions,” Will said, pointing at the Seventh and Eighth Princes. “Both are dedicated practitioners of Entark swordsmanship and are quite skilled. You’re aware of the irreconcilable conflict between them, right?”

“Yes. Though they share the same mother, the Seventh Prince was discovered as an illegitimate child before she married into the royal family. The Eighth Prince, however, was born after she officially joined the royal court.”

Treya hadn’t known this herself—it was something Will had taught her during one of his lessons on ‘The Top Ten Royal Secrets You Absolutely Can’t Miss.’

“It’s complicated. To put it simply, the latter is seen as the ‘fruit of a successful love,’ while the former is treated like an ‘unwanted mistake.’”

“Mm. No wonder the Eighth Prince is more favored.”

“But remember, Edward is a sly old fox. His favoritism doesn’t mean much—you know that, don’t you?”

Will chuckled and lightly tapped Treya’s forehead with his pencil.

“The most favored Ninth Princess~”

This wasn’t uncommon during Treya’s lessons. Whenever she became too serious or detached, Will would give her a “gentle reminder”—usually with the pencil in his hand.

It was his way of reminding her...

That she was part of this royal family—a family where siblings plotted against each other on paper and fought to survive in darkness.

In such a royal family, there was no room for familial affection—only sacrifices made for the sake of singular desires.

Treya let out a soft “Oof” before stubbornly lifting her head again.

“You’re right, Professor Will. I understand now. After all, my mother died at their hands, and I almost believed in their false affections. I’ll make sure to stay clear-headed until the very end.”

“Don’t be too obedient,” Will muttered under his breath as he scratched his head. His voice was so soft that Treya barely caught it. “It makes teasing you way too addictive...”

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Let’s get back to the topic,” Will said quickly, tapping the paper again. “Because of their irreconcilable conflict, after Edward’s death, they’ll find excuses to ‘duel’—to prove who’s stronger.”

“There are plenty of duels in the royal family; we value martial prowess. Most are sparring matches to hone Entark swordsmanship.”

“No. These aren’t friendly duels...”

Will paused, looking up.

Treya had never been particularly sensitive to others’ gazes before. But ever since gaining demonic power, she could feel exactly where someone’s eyes lingered on her.

He was looking at her left eye.

His gaze was filled with admiration but also tinged with regret.

Was Will... always this concerned about her left eye?

Was it because it symbolized elven purity and beauty?

“Professor Will? Is there something wrong with my left eye?”

“No, no, nothing at all. Back to the duels—they’re not sparring matches but ones meant to injure or incapacitate opponents, forcing them out of contention. These aren’t fair competitions.”

“...They’re dangerous duels where people might lose their lives.”

.

.

.

Treya sat in the royal “dueling arena,” coldly observing the absurd spectacle unfolding below—

Her Seventh and Eighth brothers were locked in fierce combat. Their swords flashed across the arena floor, accompanied by their loud shouts.

“You little brat... why are you always Father’s favorite?!”

“A muscle-headed brute like you should look inward for your shortcomings!”

After the Fourth Prince’s downfall, speculation about his alleged crimes faded into irrelevance. The focus shifted to who would inherit his critical share of power.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, everyone—except for the bedridden Sixth Princess—was expected to receive a small portion.

But two princes couldn’t sit still—they didn’t just challenge each other; they issued challenges to everyone. Only they showed up.

The Seventh Prince was known as a battle-hardened warrior who had earned merits in the military but lacked intelligence...

While the Eighth Prince was favored by many and once considered Edward’s likely heir due to love-driven favoritism. Though his only real strength was being “beloved,” he had publicly demonstrated standard Entark swordsmanship multiple times.

The duel wouldn’t determine how much power they’d ultimately receive—it wasn’t sanctioned by Emperor Edward himself. But a public victory could boost morale and sway subordinates toward one side.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

Like peacocks displaying their feathers before their father, they seized every opportunity to showcase their abilities in hopes of gaining an edge in this power struggle.

Thus, nearly every royal member capable of attending had gathered here.

“Treya...”

“Call me ‘Sister’ when we’re in public,” Treya corrected coldly.

“Why aren’t you participating? You’re smart—you understand demons and Entark swordsmanship better than anyone else. If anyone could win a duel like this, it’d be you.”

“Will... Will told me it’s dangerous...”

Treya’s voice lacked its usual tremor—it was as cold and emotionless as ever.

But her hesitation, her repeated stammering, and her trembling right hand gripping her sword betrayed her unease.

“Why do you always listen to him—”

Eugenie’s words were cut off by the sound of clashing swords below—

“Look at you! With swordsmanship like that—unpracticed and weak—you think you can beat me?!”

The Seventh Prince’s voice boomed across the arena, louder than any of their earlier exchanges.

What made it more terrifying...

As someone experienced in Entark swordsmanship, Eugenie could immediately tell—the Seventh Prince’s strikes were fueled by overwhelming rage and emotion. His movements were fast and reckless...

He was aiming to kill.

“He’s insane—driven by revenge and hatred. This kind of madness will only lead to—”

“Ahhh!!!”

“Someone’s hurt!”

Treya’s words were interrupted by a scream. On the arena floor, the Eighth Prince failed to block an upward slash that struck his left eye directly. Blood splattered everywhere.

“They should stop this.”

“The Seventh Prince already declared this duel wouldn’t be paused for injuries... just as he planned.”

“...‘Someone’ clearly intended for this to happen—to cripple their opponent under the guise of an ‘accident.’”

In the open arena, the Seventh Prince slowly approached his kneeling brother, who clutched his bleeding eye.

“Hahahaha! See?! You’re nothing but a useless waste! Do you really think Father would ever acknowledge someone like you?! Impossible! Before he dies, I’ll prove—”

“I’m stronger than you—a spoiled brat who only thrives on favoritism...!”

But just as he closed in, his opponent’s sword swung upward from an awkward angle, slicing across his right arm.

For once, he saw something unfamiliar in his brother’s eyes—a defiance that refused to yield or admit defeat.

“Oh... really? How about this then... Brother?”

“Stop them! Don’t let them keep fighting!”

“Where are the priests and healers?!”

Chaos erupted among the spectators as royals scrambled to take sides.

The arena devolved into utter disarray—everyone now knew that both princes were out of contention due to their injuries.

Only Eugenie remained frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at Treya beside her.

Something about Treya felt... off.

She exuded an aura of fragility—a dangerous kind of tension that seemed ready to shatter at any moment.

“As Will said... it’s dangerous...”

“It’s best not to get too close.”