I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Zarius was entirely, utterly done with being sick.

For a man who had built his entire reputation on being an untouchable fortress of northern muscle and iron will, this nameless, strange affliction was humiliating. It wasn’t a wound he could bandage, and it wasn’t an enemy he could look in the eye and run a sword through.

It wore him down a little more each day. Every sunrise brought the same stabbing pain, and every sunset took it away again, leaving no explanation behind.

He had already dragged three different high-ranking physicians into his private chamber. He’d summoned every physician he could find and submitted to every examination they requested. None of them could tell him a damn thing. One had muttered about ”bad air,” another had blamed ”excessive bile,” and the third had simply looked terrified and handed him a useless jar of crushed willow bark.

Now, he was on his way to the capital.

The heavy carriage jolted over a deep dip in the road, the wooden frame creaking beneath his weight. He was on his way to the capital for the peace talks with Solaric.

The brutal, stupid border war was finally over.

After years of watching soldiers bleed, the two empires had finally agreed to sign a peace treaty. Zarius could only wonder why it had taken so long. Too many lives had been lost for land that was never worth the cost.

But the peace treaty wasn’t what had drawn him to the imperial capital.

The High Priest. Perhaps he could help Zarius. He could visit the temple under the guise of asking for a blessing.

It had sounded like a reasonable plan, even if it was a desperate one.

So, the night after their quiet arrival at the capital, the moment the clock struck midnight and the palace fell into a deep sleep, Zarius slipped out of his quarters.

He didn’t bring Elios, and he certainly didn’t bring any of his personal guards. He worked better alone. He worked faster alone. Slipping through the shadowed, echoing stone corridors of the grand holy temple was easy enough for a man trained to move silently through freezing forests. The temple was massive, a sprawling labyrinth of white marble arches, towering columns, and heavy, scent-heavy braziers thick with fragrant smoke. The sweet scent hung so heavily in the air that it bordered on overwhelming.

For nearly an hour, Zarius systematically searched every single private wing, office, and study he could find, his boots making no more noise than a whisper against the floors. But the high priest’s private chambers were completely dark, empty, and devoid of life. There was no sign of the old holy man anywhere.

Feeling a low, frustrated heat beginning to rise in his chest, Zarius drifted deeper into the sanctuary. He stumbled down a narrow, arched corridor that led toward a smaller, private chapel. Deciding to check inside on the off-chance the priest was pulling a late-night vigil, he slipped through the heavy, half-open doors.

Suddenly, the steady sound of approaching footsteps echoed from outside.

Guards.

Zarius cursed silently under his breath. Without a sound, he stepped backward into the deepest shadow of the chapel, disappearing behind a massive stone pillar beside the side altar. He held his breath, his back pressed flat against the cool marble.

Two temple guards walked past the chapel doors, their lanterns sending long, swinging yellow beams across the floor.

”Do you have any idea when the high priest is actually coming back from his pilgrimage to the eastern shrines?” one of the guards muttered, his voice echoing in the quiet hallway. ”The imperial palace is going to want him at the peace ceremony.”

”No clue,” the other guard grunted, his keys clinking against his belt. ”The High Priest won’t be returning for another fortnight probably.”

Their footsteps slowly faded down the corridor, leaving the chapel in total silence once again.

Behind the pillar, Zarius let out a quiet, incredibly annoyed hiss through his teeth. Tch.

The peace talks would have ended by then, and he would likely already be halfway back to the North. A flicker of irritation toward Flio surfaced.

He had come all this way in the middle of the night for absolutely nothing. A fortnight? Flio... he thought bitterly, clenching his fists. His aide had assured him that the high priest would be readily available. If Flio had actually investigated the temple’s schedule properly instead of just assuming, Zarius wouldn’t have wasted his night sneaking around like a common thief.

Disgusted and ready to head back, Zarius prepared to step out from behind the stone pillar.

But before he could make a move, the doors of the chapel creaked open once again.

Zarius froze instantly, his body reacting before he had time to think. He flattened himself against the shadows, holding perfectly still. The temple was far more heavily watched than he had expected. How many patrols were moving through these halls every night?

The footsteps that entered the chapel this time weren’t the heavy boots of the guards. They were soft, light, and hurried, the faint rustle of fine silk sweeping against the floor. Someone was walking inside entirely alone, their breathing slightly rapid, as if they were running away from something.

Zarius peered through the narrow gap between the stone pillar and the altar.

The figure walked straight toward the center of the chapel, stopping right in front of the grand statue. The dim, flickering candlelight from the votive stand caught the elegant drape of a pure white tunic. Without a word, the person suddenly collapsed onto their knees, their hands clasping tightly together in front of their chest.

For a second, Zarius simply watched, thinking the intruder was just some stressed-out palace courtier who had slipped away to pray for their sins in the dead of night. He prepared to slip out through the side exit while the person was distracted.

But then, the quiet of the chapel was completely shattered by a raw, trembling voice.

”God...” the person gasped out. ”Why? Why won’t Yerel love me?!”

Zarius’s entire body went rigid.

His eyes widened in the dark, his gaze locking onto the kneeling figure with sudden, sharp intensity. He slowly leaned forward just an inch, his eyes adjusting to the dim, flickering amber glow of the candles.

The hood of the black tunic had fallen back, revealing a pale neck and silver hair that spilled over his shoulders.

Zarius saw him clearly now. The figure kneeling in the dirt was a young man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes.