Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 116: The Awakening of Fire and Ash

[Lavinia’s Pov]

The moments after Soren ran felt impossibly still.

Too still.

The training field—once echoing with the soft clash of blades, Soren’s grumbling, and my not-so-dignified complaints—had fallen silent. But it wasn’t peace.

It was the wrong kind of silence.

The kind that holds its breath before something breaks.

I dropped to my knees beside Marshi, the grass cool and damp against my skin.

"Marshi?" I whispered.

Nothing.

Just that terrible, wretched sound in his chest—like something was tearing itself apart from the inside. It wasn’t a growl. It wasn’t a whimper. It was ancient, something primal, something wrong.

His muscles spasmed under his fur. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his fangs might shatter. And his paws—gods, his paws—they clawed into the ground like he was anchoring himself to this world.

Claws longer than I remembered. Sharper. Gleaming unnaturally.

I couldn’t breathe.

A faint glow—a flicker of gold—rippled beneath his skin like a buried star trying to break free.

"Marshi..." My voice cracked. "What’s happening to you?"

I reached out. My fingers brushed his fur.

And froze.

It wasn’t heat that pulsed beneath him. Not like fire. Not like fever.

It was... magic.

Buzzing beneath his skin like a storm waiting to happen. Alive. Untamed. Feral.

Marshi jerked once.

And then—his eyes opened.

Crimson.

But not the warm, soft crimson I’d grown up with. These were different.

They burned.

Like stars that had fallen out of the sky and had never forgiven the earth for catching them.

I flinched before I could stop myself. Just for a moment.

His mouth parted slightly. A soft, silvery mist slipped from his lips. Not breath. Not steam. Smoke. Like something old and powerful had been sleeping inside him—and had just begun to stir.

"It’s okay," I whispered, my fingers shaking as I stroked his neck. "I’m here, Marshi. You’re not alone."

He glanced at me then. Just a flicker.

And then his eyes fluttered shut again.

But the shaking didn’t stop.

Not even close.

The grass rustled behind me.

"Lavinia!"

I turned.

Brother Lysandre tore across the field like the wind itself had possessed him, his coat flaring behind him, his boots kicking up dirt.

"What happened? Where is—"

His gaze landed on Marshi, and his entire expression shifted. The panic drained out of him in an instant—replaced by something colder.

Something tighter.

Recognition.

He dropped to his knees beside me, his hand already moving to Marshi’s side, fingers glowing faintly with healing magic. But he didn’t cast it. He didn’t dare.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. Tense.

"...He’s gaining his powers."

I blinked. "Powers?"

Lysandre nodded, watching the tremors ripple beneath Marshi’s fur. "Yes. He’s a divine familiar, Lavinia. You know that. But even divine creatures evolve. Unlock parts of themselves. This—" he gestured at Marshi, "—this is an awakening."

Brother Soren, panting as he caught up, furrowed his brow. "But why now? He’s fully grown. Isn’t he late?"

Lysandre didn’t answer right away. His fingers hovered just above Marshi’s ribs, feeling the pulses of something far older than either of us could name.

"Yes," he said finally. "He is. He should’ve gained these powers years ago. During his adolescence."

"Then... why now?" I asked.

Lysandre’s lips pressed into a thin line. "That’s what worries me."

I swallowed hard.

I didn’t know why this was happening now—why Marshi’s powers were awakening so late, or what it meant—but none of that mattered at the moment. None of it.

All I could think was...

"I just want the pain to stop," I whispered, running my fingers gently over his fur. "He looks like he’s fighting something no one else can see."

Lysandre’s voice dropped low and gentle. "He is," he said. "And when it’s over... he’ll be stronger. More dangerous. More... true."

Stronger.

That word didn’t comfort me.

I didn’t want Marshi to be more powerful right now. I wanted him to be okay. I wanted his pain to stop.

I stayed beside him. I pressed my side against his trembling body. Folded my legs beneath me and laid a hand firmly on his chest. Right above his heart.

Anchoring him. The way he had always anchored me.

Around us, the whispers began.

Stable hands. Knights-in-training. Gardeners. Maids. Their quiet footsteps circled the training field like ripples on still water. Curious. Concerned. Cautious.

Then—

"Lavinia!" a voice called. Osric, now sixteen, rushed in, breathless. "What’s—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes landed on me, kneeling beside Marshi like I’d been carved into the ground. My hand still on his heart. My face too calm. Too still.

Osric’s breath caught.

He didn’t ask anything else.

He just stood there, watching, like the others. Silent. Reverent.

And then... What felt like an eternity finally passed.

Marshi’s body gave a twitch.

Then a breath.

Soft. Steady. Real.

The rumbling in his chest ceased. The shaking faded. His claws relaxed into the dirt instead of gouging it. And slowly—so slowly—his eyes fluttered open again.

Still crimson. Still glowing.

But no longer burning.

No longer screaming.

I exhaled shakily, brushing his ear back from his face. "There you are," I murmured. "You scared me, dummy." freёwebnoѵel.com

He blinked at me once, as if to say, ’You’re one to talk.’

And that’s when I saw it.

There was no obvious explosion of magic. No wings. No dramatic glowing runes or celestial thunderclaps.

But everything about him had changed.

His golden fur shimmered like starlight spun through fire—more radiant now, almost molten. His fangs were longer, sharper, and almost regal in shape. His muscles had filled out. His presence—his aura—was heavier, steadier, and commanding.

And his eyes...

Gods, his eyes were different.

Still crimson, but older. Like they belonged to something that had watched the rise and fall of empires.

He looked at me not just as a companion. But as something meant for me. As if some ancient pact had just been fulfilled.

Lysandre knelt again beside me, silent for a long time. Then finally, he said, "...He really does look like Rakshar now."

I blinked. "The ancient divine guardian?"

Lysandre nodded slowly, awe in his voice. "The protector of the realms. One of the oldest. The kind of beast you don’t summon... but who chooses you."

I looked down at Marshi. Just as I reached out to gently smooth the fur on Marshi’s head—

He moved.

Correction.

He sprang.

One moment, he was majestic and still like a statue carved from ancient gold.

The next?

BOING.

Marshi leapt straight into the air, did a very unnecessary twist, landed on all fours—and then took off in a zooming circle around the training field like a possessed celestial kitten.

I blinked.

"...Did he just—"

"—do a backflip?" Soren finished, dumbfounded. "Yes. Yes, he did."

Lysandre stared, lips parted. "Is he... playing?"

"Playing?!" I squawked. "He just went full divine beast evolution form five seconds ago, and now he’s chasing his own tail."

Marshi skidded to a stop mid-field, his tail puffed like a lion’s and his face gleaming with pure, unfiltered joy.

He pounced on a leaf.

Then zoomed again.

Osric, who had quietly stepped closer, whispered, "Are we... sure he didn’t awaken into some kind of chaos deity instead

Lionel leaned in and muttered, "My cousin’s cat did that after it sniffed fermented apricots."

"Don’t compare my divine companion to a drunk barn cat," I hissed. "He’s just—celebrating."

Marshi bounded toward me, nearly collided with Lysandre (who ducked with a yelp), and flopped dramatically onto the grass right at my feet—legs in the air, puffed chest, proud eyes, panting like he had just personally overthrown a tyrant or won a war.

I stared down at him. He blinked up at me.

"...Seriously?" I asked.

He chirped. Chirped.

Lysandre finally broke the silence. "Well. That was terrifying."

Soren crossed his arms. "And weirdly adorable."

"Majestically chaotic," I muttered. "He really is mine."

Marshi rolled onto his feet and sat tall—chest puffed, golden fur practically glowing in the sunlight. His fangs flashed as he grinned in that smug, tiger way only he could.

"Congratulations," I said dryly, "on ascending to divinity and immediately behaving like a sugar-high squirrel."

Marshi sneezed in my direction. Gleefully.

I sighed and reached down to ruffle his head. "Don’t ever scare me like that again, got it?"

He nuzzled my palm, and for a second—just a blink of time—I felt it again.

That hum under his skin.

That strange, ancient pulse.

Something big had awakened.

And no matter how many times he chased his tail like a maniac...

He wasn’t just Marshi anymore.

He was something more.

Something old.

And I had a feeling... It was only just beginning.

But still—I couldn’t stop wondering.

Why did Marshi awaken his powers so late?Why now? Why today?

And if his powers were changing... What else was about to change?

I glanced at him—my divine companion, my golden shadow—now happily munching on a flower crown he’d stolen from a maid’s hair like the elegant menace he was.

A part of me laughed.

Another part ached.

Because even now, even after all the chaos, all the mystery, all the strange sparks and silent groans and ancient magic pulsing under my fingers—

All I could really think was

When will Papa come home?

I miss him.

Too much.

And time, no matter how strangely it moved, never seemed to bring him closer.

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