I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead
Chapter 154: The Trial (13)

Chapter 154: The Trial (13)

The forest thickened with every step, not just in foliage but in emotion. Each tree they passed whispered a different regret, each path ahead shifted like it was uncertain they deserved to tread it. The Trial wasn’t just illusion or misdirection—it was personal. Painfully so.

"Don’t stray too far," Verena warned, her voice steady even as the air turned colder. She could feel the weight of memories pressing against her skin, crawling up her spine. Beside her, Vivienne clung to her arm, the shimmer of Dreamtide magic lightly pulsing around her like a nervous heartbeat.

"It’s getting stronger," Vivienne murmured. "The pressure. Like something’s watching us."

"Probably is," Isolde muttered, drawing her blade. "Let them watch. I dare them to do more."

Just then, a low growl echoed through the trees, followed by the distinct cracking of bark. Something huge was stalking them. Verena turned sharply, eyes narrowing as she spotted the shadows gathering into shape—vague at first, then sickeningly familiar.

It was her father.

At least, it wore his face.

Towering above them was a twisted doppelgänger draped in armor she hadn’t seen since her childhood. He pointed a gloved hand at her, voice booming with judgment. "You’ve failed your lineage, Verena. You run from expectations. You play games with children while your name rots."

Verena froze.

"Is that...?" Vivienne asked, looking between Verena and the monstrous figure.

"Not real," Verena said tightly. "Just shut up and let me—"

But the vision stepped closer, eyes burning with golden fire. "You let others carry you. Weak. Soft. What kind of warrior bows to sentiment?"

"Excuse me?" Isolde snapped, stepping in front of Verena, blade raised. "She carried both of us through Trial One, thank you very much. Who the hell are you to talk?"

The thing didn’t answer. Instead, it lashed out—too fast, too strong. Its strike would’ve shattered a boulder, but Isolde parried it with a grunt, her legs bracing into the soil. Sparks flew.

Verena shook herself out of her stupor. "It’s just a construct. It knows your weaknesses. It wants a reaction." Still, the lump in her throat wouldn’t disappear.

Vivienne’s magic hummed stronger now, glittering threads of Dreamtide beginning to swirl around her. "Let me try something," she whispered.

She stepped between Verena and the illusion, her hand raised. Dreamtide washed outwards in a silken wave—not an attack, but a lullaby. The monster faltered. Its armor cracked. Its glowing eyes dimmed.

"You’re not real," Vivienne said softly, with a surprising steadiness. "And even if you were, Verena doesn’t owe you anything. She’s not defined by you. Or by fear."

The creature groaned, and with one final pulse of Dreamtide, it collapsed into ash.

Verena blinked. "Okay. That was... terrifyingly effective."

Vivienne smiled shyly. "I just... didn’t like how it spoke to you."

Isolde raised an eyebrow. "Since when did you grow a spine?"

"I have one," Vivienne huffed. "I just keep it under all the anxiety."

Verena couldn’t help it—she laughed. A genuine one. "Alright. You’re both terrifying in your own ways."

The forest started shifting again, melting into a different shape. Gone were the trees—now, it was a great hallway of mirrors. Trial Three wasn’t done.

As they stepped in, each mirror flickered to life, showing distorted versions of themselves: failures, regrets, betrayals they never committed but feared they could. In one, Verena saw herself leading a broken team. In another, Vivienne was completely alone, sobbing in a ruined classroom.

"Gods, I hate this place," Isolde muttered. "Let me smash one. Just one."

"No," Verena said, gripping her shoulder. "It’s trying to get in our heads again."

Then the mirrors began to whisper.

One by one, voices oozed from the glass, cruel and too intimate to ignore.

"She only brought you to feel better about herself," one hissed at Vivienne.

"She’s only loyal because she’s scared of being alone," another muttered near Isolde.

"Your strength is all pretend."

"You’re faking leadership."

"You’re not a heroine."

"Stop—" Vivienne gasped, hands flying to her ears. Her Dreamtide magic flickered violently, losing control.

"Vivienne, breathe!" Verena barked.

She reached out and grasped Vivienne’s hand. Her palm was clammy with fear, but Verena held on tight. "You’re real. You’re strong. Don’t let some haunted IKEA mirror tell you otherwise."

Isolde snorted. "She’s right. And if they say one more word, I’m redecorating this hallway with shards."

Together, the three of them pressed forward, pushing past the illusions, tuning out the voices. With every step, Vivienne’s Dreamtide regained rhythm, smoothing their emotional chaos into calm.

And finally, at the end of the corridor—a door.

This time, it didn’t look threatening. No mist. No darkness. Just light.

Trial Three was almost over. But the hardest part still waited behind that final door.

The final door creaked open with a reluctant groan, revealing not a battlefield or a trap, but a sun-drenched glade. Warm wind rustled tall grass, and a small pond shimmered in the center, ringed by gently swaying flowers. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

Verena narrowed her eyes. "Something’s off. Nothing in this damn labyrinth has been ’serene’ unless it was trying to emotionally dismember us."

"I’m not sensing hostility," Vivienne said softly, though her Dreamtide magic hovered like mist around her fingertips. "But... the air feels thick with memory."

Isolde crossed her arms. "Let me guess. The final boss is a childhood trauma in a sundress."

They stepped forward cautiously, their boots pressing against soft soil. The moment all three crossed the threshold, the glade rippled.

Suddenly, three separate illusions unfurled before them, each sectioning off the glade into private realms. Verena reached out to stop the others—but her hand passed through empty space. They were divided, isolated by barriers not of glass or magic, but of psyche.

Verena’s trial began immediately.

Before her stood a younger version of herself—proud, rigid, cold-eyed. She wore the academy’s battle uniform, crisp and unblemished, a sharp contrast to the more relaxed Verena of the present. This version didn’t blink as she raised a sword to Verena’s throat.

"You’ve grown soft," Younger-Verena said. "You used to care about victory, reputation, efficiency. Now you babysit."

"I care about people," Verena snapped. "There’s a difference."

"You used to be feared. Respected."

"And I was miserable," she shot back. "You don’t even realize how empty we were."

The younger version faltered.

Verena stepped forward, her voice firm. "You were useful, but you were also lonely, anxious, and desperate for approval. I’ve outgrown you."

With a flick of her wrist, the image cracked like porcelain, scattering into the wind.

Meanwhile, Vivienne’s illusion took the form of an empty room—quiet, clinical, devoid of any warmth. A single chair stood in the middle, occupied by... herself. Or rather, the version of herself who never left the comfort of passivity. She looked pale, withdrawn, completely consumed by fear.

"You don’t belong with them," the copy murmured. "You’ll only drag them down. You’re not a fighter. You don’t deserve to be beside someone like Verena."

Vivienne’s lip trembled. "I know... but I’m trying."

"You think trying is enough?"

"No." Her voice strengthened. "But it’s better than never doing anything. I do belong with them. Not because I’m strong, but because I want to grow. And I won’t stop."

The illusion twisted, reaching for her—but Dreamtide surged like a tide, engulfing it in shimmering waves until it dissolved into light.

In Isolde’s space, she was faced with an army of herself—each one wearing a different emotion: anger, envy, apathy, sorrow. They pointed their blades at her with synchronized precision.

"You’ve always pretended you’re unbreakable," they chorused. "But when you fall, no one’s there."

Isolde grinned, raising her sword. "If I fall, I’ll crawl. If I crawl, I’ll bite. And if I bite, you better hope you were already dead."

She charged forward, swinging through the illusions like a hurricane of steel and willpower. Each version shattered with a spark of pride.

Eventually, the barriers faded, and the trio regrouped at the pond’s edge. Silence fell for a moment—one of those rare, meaningful silences, heavy with shared struggle.

"Did everyone... punch their past in the face?" Isolde asked casually.

Vivienne giggled. "I think I hugged mine to death."

Verena exhaled and looked around. "Is this it? Are we finally through?"

As if answering her, a soft ding! echoed in the air, followed by a sudden system notification:

[MISSION COMPLETE!] You have successfully cleared Trial Two of the Labyrinth of Ascendance. Vivienne has joined your party. +100 Affection Points: Evelyn Reward Unlocked: Maximum Affection Level – Evelyn Has Been Completed.

"...Wait, Evelyn?" Verena blinked. "But she’s not even here!"

"System’s just being generous," Isolde teased. "Or maybe she’s watching from somewhere, smitten with your noble sacrifice."

Verena groaned and rubbed her temple. "I swear, if I get one more affection point from someone I’m not dating, I’m filing an HR complaint."

Vivienne beamed beside her, swaying slightly. "I think I leveled up emotionally..."

"Good," Verena muttered, "because I think I leveled down in patience."

Together, they turned toward the path ahead. One trial remained. But for now, they walked with lighter hearts—still exhausted, still wary, but no longer alone in the weight they carried.