The Lustful Villain: Every Milfs and Gilfs are Mine!

Rex did something far more cruel than striking again. He stopped.

He planted his feet, folded his arms across his massive chest, and simply waited. His stance was relaxed, almost bored, a posture that screamed to everyone in the hall that Theo was no longer a threat; he was a nuisance.

"Come on, Prince," Rex provoked, his voice dripping with venomous calm. "You said you wanted to continue."

"Show me that legendary Nightwing ferocity. Or was it all just pretty speeches and expensive robes?"

Theo screamed a sound that wasn’t human, a sound of pure, broken desperation, and lunged. He threw everything he had left into a desperate series of strikes: haymakers, stabs with his broken fingers, and wild knees.

WHOOSH.

Rex stepped an inch to the left.

WHOOSH.

Rex dipped his shoulder.

WHOOSH.

Rex spun on his heel, the wind from his movement nearly knocking the unsteady Theo off balance.

It was a dance of humiliation. Rex wasn’t even fighting; he was performing a parody of a fight.

Every time Theo swung, Rex moved with the effortless grace of a predator watching a fly buzz against a windowpane. He didn’t counter.

He didn’t strike. He simply refused to be touched, making Theo’s every effort look pathetic, clumsy, and utterly futile.

"Is that it?" Rex asked, stepping aside from a wild swing that would have felled a bull. "I’ve seen drunkards in the lower districts move with more coordination than you."

As Theo stumbled, gasping for air that burned his lungs like acid, the silence of the hall began to fracture. But it wasn’t the silence of respect anymore. It was the poisonous murmur of the nobility.

The dam had broken, and the venom was flowing.

"My God, look at him," a voice whispered from the left, a minor duke whose family had served the Nightwings for generations. "He’s flailing like a dying fish."

"A disgrace," another hissed, loud enough to carry across the stone floor. "The bloodline has thinned."

"How can Aurelia expect to lead when her own flesh and blood can’t even land a single blow on him?"

"It’s embarrassing," a noblewoman murmured behind her fan, her eyes cold. "The Nightwing heir... reduced to this."

"He’s not a warrior; he’s a circus act."

Theo’s ears burned. His vision blurred as the words pierced through his pain worse than any broken bone.

He could hear them, the people he was supposed to rule, the people he was supposed to inspire. They weren’t looking at him with pity; they were looking at him with disgust.

"Pathetic," someone laughed softly. "All that training, all that prestige, and he’s being played like a toy by a common thug."

"Shame on the House," another added. "This is what happens when you coddle children."

Theo’s heart hammered against his cracked ribs.

’Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!’ his mind screamed.

He swung again, a desperate, lunging strike aimed at Rex’s throat.

Rex simply leaned back, the fist passing harmlessly beneath his chin.

"You’re hearing them, aren’t you?" Rex said, his voice low and intimate, cutting through the poisonous chatter. "Every word they say is true."

"They don’t see a prince. They don’t even see a man... what they see was a mistake."

"I’ll... I’ll kill you..." Theo croaked, but there was no conviction in it.

His legs gave out, and he fell to both knees, his forehead nearly touching the blood-slicked stone.

THUD.

"Kill me?" Rex laughed, a harsh, barking sound that drew more sneers from the crowd. "With what? Your tears? Your broken pride?"

Rex stepped closer, looming over the collapsed boy like a god of wrath. "Look at them, Theo."

"Listen to them... They’ve already replaced you in their minds."

"By tomorrow morning, you’ll just be ’the failure.’ The boy who broke before he could even fight."

"Please..." Theo sobbed, the sound muffled by the floor. "Mother... help me..."

Aurelia stood frozen, her face a mask of agony. She wanted to step forward, to shield him, but she knew she couldn’t.

To intervene now would be to confirm what everyone already believed: that her son was incapable of standing on his own. Her silence was the final betrayal.

"You’re not even worth the effort of a counterattack," Rex whispered, leaning down so only Theo could hear. "That’s the real lesson, Prince."

"You’re not worth the pain of fighting."

Theo let out a broken whimper, his body shaking with spasms of exhaustion and shame. He was completely undone.

The Nightwing heir was gone; in his place was something hollow, something shattered, something that would never truly heal.

The humiliation had reached a critical mass, a pressure cooker of shame that finally exploded. Something in Theo’s mind didn’t just break; it shattered into jagged, poisonous shards.

The pain in his ribs, the agony in his leg, and the venomous whispers of the nobles fused into a single, suicidal impulse: ’Destroy... Destroy everything.’

"SHUT UP!" Theo shrieked, his voice cracking into a raw, hysterical scream that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!"

"I AM THE HEIR! I AM THE NIGHTWING!"

He scrambled up, but he wasn’t standing like a warrior anymore. He was convulsing with rage, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, darting between Rex and the mocking nobles.

"You think I’m weak? You think I’m a disgrace?!"

"I’ll show you! I’ll burn this whole fucking hall down before I let you laugh at me!"

His words were a disgrace: crude, unhinged, and utterly beneath the dignity of his station. The nobles didn’t even flinch at his profanity; they simply smirked, their disgust deepening at his loss of control.

"DIE!" Theo bellowed.

The air around him suddenly ignited. A sickly, unstable violet glow erupted from his palms as he tapped into the Nightwing ancestral mana not with the controlled precision of a trained mage but with the desperate violence of a drowning man.

FWOOOM!

A bolt of raw arcane energy streaked toward Rex. Rex didn’t flinch; he simply tilted his head.

The bolt hissed past his ear, scorching the air with the smell of burnt ozone.

ZAP!

"Magic?" Rex mused aloud, his voice carrying over the crackle of energy. "How predictable."

"When the sword fails, the child reaches for his toys."

"STAY STILL!" Theo screamed, his hands weaving chaotic, untrained patterns.

VROOOOM!

A sphere of concentrated force hurtled toward Rex’s chest. Rex raised a single forearm, catching the magical impact.

BOOM!

The shockwave rippled through his muscles, but he didn’t budge. He absorbed the energy as if it were nothing more than a summer breeze.

Theo was relentless. He was a whirlwind of magical incompetence.

He launched projectiles, energy waves, and searing arcs of light.

SHINK! CRACKLE! WHAM!

Each attack was met with Rex’s terrifyingly casual response: a step to the left, a parry with the back of a hand, and a shrug of the shoulders. Rex was treating the heir’s magical assault like a child throwing tantrums in a nursery.

"Is this the power of the Nightwings?" Rex taunted, stepping through a gout of violet flame without breaking stride. "It’s messy... It’s loud... And it’s completely useless."

"I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!" Theo’s voice rose to a fever pitch of madness.

He was pouring every ounce of his life force into his next move, his veins bulging in his neck, blood streaming from his nose as the magical strain began to tear his own body apart. "I’ll make you regret ever looking at me!"

In a final, suicidal gambit, Theo channeled everything he had, his mana, his rage, his shattered pride, into his right fist. The energy coiled around his arm like a serpent of violet lightning.

His entire body leaned forward, putting every pound of his weight behind the strike.

"THIS IS FOR EVERYTHING!"

"RAAAAAAGH!"

He launched himself forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet. For one impossible second, the trajectory was perfect.

The magical enhancement accelerated his fist beyond human capability.

THWACK.

The sound was wet and heavy. Theo’s fist connected squarely with Rex’s left cheekbone.

The force was enough to send a visible ripple through Rex’s facial tissue, and Rex’s head snapped to the side, his chin jerking violently from the impact.

For three seconds, the hall fell into a deathly silence.

Theo froze. His fist was still pressed against Rex’s skin, his entire body shaking, his breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps.

His eyes went wide. For one delusional moment, hope flickered in his broken mind.

’I hit him... I actually hit him...’

Rex’s head slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to turn back to center.

His expression hadn’t changed. There was no pain.

No shock. No anger. His eyes remained as cold and dead as two pieces of polished obsidian.

He didn’t even blink. He looked at Theo not as a combatant who had landed a blow, but as an insect that had accidentally bumped into a boot.

Rex didn’t even raise his hand to touch the spot where Theo had struck. He simply stood there, the faint imprint of Theo’s knuckles already fading from his tan skin.

"Was that it?" Rex asked, his voice impossibly quiet, carrying more menace than any scream. "Was that your grand finale?"