Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop
235 – Evan’s Disaster

The dwarf king, Wekkoun Anville, stood at the front, his broad shoulders clad in ceremonial armor, his trusted knight, Grumbletoe, at his side.

The elves had arrived in regal splendor—Queen Tashr Reyrie, with her otherworldly grace, and her first daughter, Shorof Reyrie, poised like a blade at her side.

The centaurs, Chief Adroros Borion and his son, Endreos, towered over most of the delegation, their presence as commanding as the earth itself. Beside them, Eos Kirmizi, the alicorn, stood with an almost ethereal presence, his pure white mane catching the light.

And then there were the beastkin—their sovereign, a female weretiger named Selen Blackmantle, standing proud and unwavering, her piercing gaze assessing everything at once. Her husband, a minotaur named Theor, stood at her side, a quiet but imposing force.

Not far from them, the Werewolf Alpha King, Onulph Sam, observed everything with a keen, almost predatory sharpness. And yet, amidst this assembly of power, they all had one thing in common.

They were looking at Evan with respect.

Some of them even bowed.

“Your Majesty,” a few of them greeted him.

Matthew and Alan’s jaws nearly hit the ground.

What?

No. No, no, no. Evan was their classmate. Sure, they had always known there was something different about him—his family, his effortless command over any situation, the way he carried himself with a kind of self-assurance most adults would envy—but this? This was something else entirely.

How?

Who exactly was Evan?

“Please rest for today. His Majesty and Her Majesty will be among you tomorrow. If you require anything at all, do let us know,” Evan addressed the assembly with the kind of composed authority that shouldn’t belong to a twelve-year-old.

With a simple gesture, he assigned servants to lead the esteemed guests to their accommodations, handling the gathering of rulers and warriors as if it were a routine school assembly.

Then, with the same calmness, he turned to Queen Tashr and Princess Shorof. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, I assume you’d like to meet Princess Nahwu soon, yes? I wi—”

“At ease, nephew,” a deep, commanding voice interrupted.

From the mansion emerged another figure, one even more imposing than the guests Evan had just so effortlessly managed. 

Standing at a towering seven feet, his presence was enough to make even the most hardened warriors pause. The pair of horns on his head—one broken—marked him unmistakably as someone of power.

‘Uncle Isaiah,’ as Evan called him, inclined his head toward Tashr. “I shall take mine leave of thee and lead thee to Nahwu. As for thee, dear nephew, seeketh thee another task and trouble me not.”

Evan, without hesitation, bowed. “Thank you, Sir.”

With that, Isaiah turned to the elves. “Come forth, fair Tasha, and followeth me,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were guiding a guest to their seat at dinner rather than escorting elven royalty.

Evan watched as the last of the guests disappeared into the mansion, and only then did he allow himself a small sigh of relief. A smile tugged at his lips—finally, that was over.

And then—

“GAH!”

Two hands clamped down on his shoulders, nearly sending his soul straight to the heavens. He spun around in shock, only to be met with the narrowed eyes of his schoolmates, Matthew and Alan, who were now standing way too close for comfort.

Silence.

Matthew arched an eyebrow. Alan folded his arms.

Yvain gulped.

Ah. Right. He had some explaining to do.

***

“That’s… the gist of it,” Yvain concluded his confession, his tone deliberately casual, as if he hadn’t just shattered the entire foundation of what Alan and Matthew thought they knew about him.

The two boys stared at him, their expressions hovering somewhere between disbelief and the slow, painful realization that their classmate had been hiding something colossal this whole time. Their mouths hung open, struggling to form words.

“So, Evan… I mean, Your Majesty—”

“Evan is fine,” Yvain interrupted breezily. “Or Yvain, if you want to sound a bit fancier. Just swap the ‘-an’ with ‘-ain,’ and honestly, you’d barely notice the difference.”

Alan and Matthew exchanged a look.

“Dude…”

A heavy sigh escaped them both.

“Look,” Yvain raised his hands, palms out, as if that would somehow soften the absurdity of the situation. “It’s not a big deal. You two aren’t exactly nobodies yourselves—sons of the two most powerful houses in Inkia? I’d say we’re on equal footing. I’m just a vassal king!”

Matthew scoffed. “Right. Just a vassal king of Soulnaught? Your dad is Soulnaught.”

“And your mom is the Original Saint!” Alan added, exasperation creeping into his voice. “You’re literally one of the three most powerful people on the planet this very second—and you’re acting like you just confessed to cheating on a test.”

“Wait a second—you didn’t cheat on that test with your Vision, did you, Little Merlin?”

“Hey! I’ve awakened my Force!” Yvain shot back, puffing up indignantly.

“Oh, shut up,” Alan rolled his eyes. “That’s something only the Dragon of the East and the Vampire of the West have ever pulled off.”

“Yeah, about that…” Yvain scratched the back of his head, looking just a tad too sheepish for comfort. “You remember Uncle Isaiah and Grandpa Vlad? You saw Uncle Isaiah with his dragon horns earlier, right? And Grandpa Vlad—the reason he always wears those ridiculous robes—”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Alan and Matthew just stared at him, eyes wide, as if their friend had casually admitted to being related to the moon.

“You—you call the Dragon of the East ‘Uncle’ and the Vampire of the West ‘Grandpa’?! Are you hearing yourself?!”

Yvain raised both hands in surrender before letting them drop limply to his sides, as if physically discarding the conversation. A heavy silence settled between the three of them, thick with unspoken thoughts and barely contained exasperation.

“Look,” Yvain finally muttered, his gaze dropping. As he exhaled, the golden strands of his hair darkened, the bright blue of his eyes bleeding back into their natural jet black. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Alan and Matthew exchanged glances, their expressions a mess of disbelief and resignation. Yvain had just dropped the biggest revelation of their lives, and now he was standing there, looking almost… small. The glow of his disguise had faded, and with it, the weight of his words settled in properly.

Matthew rubbed his face. “You’re sorry?” He let out a dry laugh. “You—our top student classmate, who just turned out to be the Yvain Edensworn—are sorry?”

Alan crossed his arms, glaring but not quite angry. “You didn’t think to mention this, I don’t know, before the coup?”

Yvain sighed, raking a hand through his now-black hair. “Our parents are trying to protect us,” he muttered. “Besides, what difference does it make? I’m still me.”

Matthew scoffed. “Sure. Just you. A completely normal guy with a legendary lineage and a throne.”

Alan let out a long breath and shook his head. “You absolute bastard.” Then, to Yvain’s surprise, he stepped forward and yanked him into a quick, firm hug—only to immediately punch him in the arm right after. “That’s for making us feel like idiots.”

Yvain chuckled, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, yeah. Fair.”

Matthew sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting his life choices. “Okay… fine. But are you actually staying at Saint Lucia?”

“You’re not just gonna disappear into some royal war camp, right?” Alan added. “I mean, if the whole point was infiltrating Inkia, you don’t really need the school disguise anymore.”

Yvain snorted. “Nah. Mama and Papa—uh, I mean, Their Majesties—said I need to ‘gain experience, forge alliances, and study my enemies.’” He made air quotes before rolling his eyes. “Papa even banned me from using Vision at school, so technically, you two have been using Force longer than me anyway. I’m your junior at this.”

“So, they just let you… go to school?”

“Basically, yeah.”

Matthew raised a brow. “So, will you keep coming as Evan di Sator of Sator Merchant Group, or as His Majesty Yvain Edensworn, King of Edensor, Heaven’s Eighth Sun—”

“Shut up.”

“Well?”

“Evan, obviously. Do you know how much work I put into this secret identity?”

With that, they strolled down the corridor, their conversation shifting naturally—talking about war, the coup, their families. The topics were heavy, but now, they spoke not as heirs or spies, but as friends stripped of pretenses, finally on equal ground.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.