I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead-Chapter 176: The Trial (33)

[Editing]

The shattered fragments of the Ouroboros’s realm still clung to the edges of Verena’s vision as she stumbled forward, her boots striking the cool, polished obsidian beneath her. For a moment, everything around her remained silent—eerily so—until the echo of her own footsteps reminded her that she was, in fact, back. Back in the Labyrinth. Back in the Trial. Back in the maddening, relentless world that refused to pause, even when she wanted to curl up and dissolve into the floor.

Her fingers twitched, the lingering sensation of stillness clinging to her bones like phantom chains. She exhaled sharply, shaking the last remnants of that looping, suffocating illusion from her head.

Saphira coiled around her shoulders, eyes narrowed, tongue flickering. "You alright? Or are you about to pass out dramatically again?"

"Shut up," Verena muttered under her breath, though her lips curled faintly with relief. "I broke the damn loop, didn’t I?"

"You did." The snake’s tone turned smug. "Eventually."

The path ahead pulsed with faint astral light, jagged shards of constellation patterns weaving across the floor like cracked glass. The Labyrinth was reacting, shifting once again in response to her presence—only this time, it recognized her. She could feel it. The air itself was different. Heavy with expectation. Alive with the hum of fate realigning.

She straightened her posture and took the first step forward.

A familiar voice called out behind her. "Verena?!"

She spun around, instincts still sharp from the encounter. Isolde emerged from a twisting corridor, her expression carved in relief and exasperation in equal measure.

"There you are." Isolde folded her arms, sleek and composed as ever, but Verena didn’t miss the flicker of worry hidden behind those sharp eyes. "You’ve been gone for—"

"Time’s... weird in there." Verena cut in, waving vaguely over her shoulder at the still-crumbling distortion where the Ouroboros had trapped her. "Let’s just say I was busy breaking metaphysical time prisons."

Isolde blinked, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. "That sounds about right."

Before they could exchange another word, a low rumble vibrated beneath their feet. The walls shuddered, constellations shifting like gears in some enormous, cosmic clock. The Trial wasn’t done with them yet.

"Guess the next part starts now." Verena sighed, reaching for her Zodiac Weave as Saphira tightened around her wrist.

The floor beneath them fractured—deliberately this time—splitting apart like tectonic plates as platforms rose from the depths below. Above them, the labyrinth ceiling peeled open, revealing a dome of stars shifting unnaturally fast across the sky. Their constellations realigned with impossible speed, like fate itself was accelerating.

Students appeared across the platforms, scattered—isolated once more.

A voice, distorted yet unmistakable, echoed across the arena. The Headmaster’s.

"Second Ascendancy Phase: Zodiacal Opposition."

Verena’s heart clenched. Opposition Trials were infamous in the Academy. Pitting students against one another—not as enemies, necessarily, but as tests of compatibility, strength, and control. It wasn’t about defeating your opponent. It was about enduring your own flaws reflected through them.

Her platform tilted, rotating toward a corresponding one nearby.

Standing on it, arms crossed, was Beatrice.

Their eyes met. That familiar, unreadable look in Beatrice’s gaze sent a shiver down Verena’s spine. She hadn’t seen her properly since their awkward, bittersweet hangout. Since she’d watched Beatrice walk away to her own crowd, her own world of quiet, dangerous progress.

Saphira snorted quietly. "Well, well. Looks like fate’s got a sense of humor."

Verena forced a crooked grin, though her pulse thudded in her ears. "I hate when it does."

The platforms locked into place as the labyrinth sealed them in a shimmering dome of astral magic. There was no escape now. Just Beatrice. Her old friend, her confusing maybe-ally, and the lingering ache of unfinished conversations between them.

The Trial had shifted once more.

And this time, it was personal.

The dome of astral energy hummed faintly around them, casting the entire arena in a pale blue glow that pulsed with each heartbeat. Verena’s gaze stayed locked on Beatrice, though every instinct in her screamed to look away—to avoid the confrontation, to bury this entire moment under layers of sarcasm and distraction. But the Trial wasn’t giving her that luxury.

Beatrice, as ever, looked unreadable. Her stance was poised, hands loosely at her sides, posture perfect. There was no hostility in her eyes—but no warmth either. Just that same distant melancholy Verena remembered too well.

The Headmaster’s voice, calm and clinical, echoed again.

"Zodiacal Opposition. Your opponent reflects your weaknesses. Your task is not victory—it is revelation. Resist, avoid, deny—and you will falter."

Saphira’s voice hissed in her ear, coiled tightly around her shoulders. "Great. Emotional self-sabotage as a magical exam. Who designed this sadistic nonsense?"

"Academy officials with way too much free time," Verena muttered under her breath.

A faint ripple of energy spread beneath their feet. The Trial was beginning. Constellations spun above them, the stars aligning into opposing signs—Virgo for Beatrice, and Libra for herself. Balance versus Order. It was almost poetic. Almost annoying.

Beatrice finally spoke, her voice soft but clear across the space. "It’s been a while, Verena."

Verena shrugged, forcing her usual crooked smile into place. "Yeah. You’ve been... busy, I hear."

"Busy enough." Beatrice’s gaze didn’t waver. "And you’ve been avoiding me."

Verena winced. "I’ve been dealing with literal time loops, magical breakdowns, and babysitting disaster-prone heroines. I call that ’productive,’ not ’avoidance.’"

Beatrice’s lips twitched. "Same old you."

The magic around them surged—subtle but undeniable. The Trial wasn’t going to wait for them to resolve their awkward emotional history. It was already weaving illusions into the air, threads of their Zodiacal Weaves entangling like strands of fate pulling tight.

Verena’s mimicry shimmered faintly to life, the stolen constellation threads wrapping around her wrist. Saphira’s form coiled tighter, their fusion already primed beneath her skin. But she hesitated.

This wasn’t a duel. It was a test. A mirror.

Beatrice stepped forward, her own Virgo-aligned weave pulsing with quiet, meticulous energy. The arena shifted beneath them, scenes forming from the floor—flickering images drawn from their shared memories.

A library table. The back garden of the Academy. That stupid balcony where they’d argued. And finally... that day they’d walked away from each other.

Verena’s throat tightened. Oh, so it was that kind of Trial. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"You know what this is showing us, don’t you?" Beatrice’s expression softened—not kind, exactly, but... sad. "We’ve both been running."

Verena gritted her teeth, trying to keep her breathing steady as the magic of the Trial intensified, drawing her into those fragmentary scenes. The ache of regret curled in her chest, heavy and unwanted.

"Running’s practical," she muttered, stepping carefully along the shifting floor. "Keeps you from dealing with messy... feelings."

Beatrice tilted her head, her braid slipping over her shoulder. "You think you’ve been the only one scared?"

The next illusion flickered into place. Beatrice’s face—alone, among strangers. Her own so-called allies. Men circling like vultures. And the hollowness in her eyes that Verena had missed, distracted by her own struggles.

The Trial wasn’t just about her flaws. It was about their flaws—the rift between them, festering quietly while they both pretended it didn’t ache.

Saphira’s voice cut in, softer this time. "You can’t mimic your way through this one."

Verena sighed. "Yeah. Figured."

The final scene materialized: A door between them. Locked. Heavy. Neither had tried to open it. They’d both waited, expecting the other to be braver first.

Beatrice stood beside the illusion, fingers resting on the handle. "If we don’t deal with this now, we’ll never pass. We’ll both stay stuck."

Verena hesitated only a second longer—then crossed the space, ignoring the tightness in her chest, and reached for the door.

Their hands brushed as they opened it together.

The Trial pulsed, the stars above rearranging, the air lifting with the faintest hum of approval.

They weren’t finished yet—but for the first time in a long while, they weren’t standing on opposite sides anymore.

The door creaked open with a soft groan of displaced magic, revealing a corridor flooded in silver-blue light. The tension between them lingered, but it had shifted — no longer sharp and heavy, but tentative, uncertain, like the first crack in ice.

Verena cleared her throat, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets to keep them from fidgeting. "Well... that wasn’t traumatic at all."

Beatrice huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching. "You really have a talent for ruining emotional moments."

"It’s called coping." Verena’s eyes flicked to the corridor ahead. "C’mon, Virgo. We’ve still got a Trial to survive."

They walked side by side, silence stretching comfortably this time. The Trial no longer pressed illusions into their minds — for now. But the stars overhead still pulsed, reminding them this was far from over.

Beatrice glanced sideways. "Thank you. For... opening the door."

Verena gave her a wry look. "Next time, you open it."

Beatrice smiled faintly. "Deal."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, they walked forward — not as strangers, not as enemies. But maybe... as something close to allies again.

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