Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 335

Chapter 335: End of the Meren Line
[Lavinia’s POV—Uphill Pursuit—Sunset Bleeding Into War]

The world narrowed into one thing.

One name.

Kaelren.

The sky bled red as the sun dipped behind the jagged hill, shadows stretching like claws across the ruined battlefield. My horse tore through the mud, hooves slamming into the earth with the force of a war drum.

Every breath tasted like iron. Every heartbeat hammered like a blade against bone. We rode toward the uphill—toward the last rat cornered in his own collapsing kingdom.

“Princess—!” Arwin yelled behind me, barely keeping up.

“Stay close!” I commanded without turning.

My shoulder burned—bleeding freely, soaking into the reins—but I didn’t care. Pain was a whisper compared to the roaring fire inside my veins. The hill loomed ahead, sharp and steep, the rocks stained with the blood of fleeing soldiers. The air was thick with smoke, dust, and the scent of fear.

I could smell it.

His fear.

The cowardly prince ran somewhere ahead. Hiding behind stones. Behind trees. Behind the corpses of his own men.

Pathetic.

I urged my horse faster; the beast responded like it shared my rage.

“HAAA!!” I roared, spurring it higher up the slope.

Zerith cursed behind me. “Princess—slow down—!”

“No.”

The word cracked like thunder.

No hesitation.

No pause.

No mercy.

The path narrowed, twisting through scattered boulders and abandoned weapons. My eyes scanned every shadow, every crack, every trembling shrub.

He was here.

Somewhere.

“PRINCE KAELREEEEN!!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the rocks like the cry of a predator.

The wind swallowed the sound, carrying it across the dying battlefield.

I smelled movement. Heard a faint scuffle.

There.

A flicker of motion behind a crooked tree farther up the slope.

My lips curled.

Found you.

“Forward!” I leaned low against my horse’s neck, forcing every last ounce of speed out of it.

Arwin and Zerith followed, but they were slower—everyone was slower. Only I moved like death chasing its final debt.

A scream echoed above us—someone’s voice, terrified.

“A-AAAAHHH—!! D-Don’t come! Don’t—!!”

Kaelren.

Definitely Kaelren. I felt a violent, vicious satisfaction twist through my chest.

“The coward finally screams,” I muttered, pulling my reins sharply.

The horse skidded to a halt at the top ridge. I swung down in one fluid motion, boots slamming into the dirt.

The wound at my shoulder pulsed—hot and sticky—but my grip on my sword did not waver.

Not even a fraction.

Haldor jumped off his horse behind me. “Your Highness—!”

“Stay back.” My voice was cold, quiet, and dangerous. “He’s mine.”

We climbed on foot now—the final stretch too steep for horses. Rocks cracked under my boots. Dust swirled around my ankles like smoke rising from a pyre.

Another scream.

Closer.

“I SAID STAY AWAY!!!”

I tilted my head.

“Found you,” I whispered.

The next step felt like stepping into destiny. I moved fast—a blur of red cloak, tangled hair, and dripping blood—until I reached the last ridge.

And there he was.

The prince of Meren.

Kaelren.

Mud on his knees. Blood on his cheek. Crown crooked. Eyes wide with pure, naked terror. Cornered between two massive boulders, nowhere left to run.

He froze when he saw me.

Completely.

Utterly.

Paralyzing fear rooted him to the ground.

“…you…” he breathed.

I stepped forward, sword lowering slightly—but not enough to be kindness.

“Yes, me…the crown princess of Eloria,” I said.

He scrambled back, slipping in dirt, hands shaking violently. “S-Stop! Don’t come closer—DON’T—!!”

I kept walking.

Step.

By step.

By step.

Each one deliberate. Each one promised the end.

“You chased me?” Kaelren shrieked, voice cracking. “YOU—YOU CHASED ME UP HERE!?”

“I didn’t chase you,” I corrected, expression flat. “I hunted you.”

His breath hitched.

“H-Hunted—?!”

“Yes.”

He scrambled backward until his back hit rock. No escape. No exit. No soldiers left to hide behind.

Just me.

Just him.

I shoved my sword into the ground beside him—CHAK!!—leaning forward, my voice low and lethal.

“Get up.”

He shook his head frantically. “D-Don’t kill me—!”

“Stand. Up.”

He trembled.

But he obeyed.

Slowly.

On unsteady legs.

Kaelren looked at me like I was a monster.

Good. Let him see the monster he created by killing many soldiers of mine. Let him fear the throne he wanted. Let him learn what it means to aim for a crown forged in blood.

I stepped closer, my face inches from his.

“Kaelren,” I whispered, “your kingdom bleeds. Your army is crippled. Your general is down. Your throne is dust.”

His lips quivered.

I smirked, tilting my head like a cat toying with a dying mouse.

“And now…” My voice dropped into a dark purr. “…it’s your turn to turn into dust.”

Kaelren slammed back against the rock, shaking violently.

“W-Why…? ” he stuttered. “Why follow me? Y-You won the war… you took Meren—why still chase me? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! ”

Behind me, hooves thundered and stopped.

Haldor.Zerith.Arwin.

All three dismounted at once, eyes widening at the sight before them—Meren’s prince cornered like a rat, and their princess standing before him like death incarnate.

Kaelren’s voice cracked into a scream.

“TAKE THE THRONE! TAKE EVERYTHING! JUST—just leave me alone! You got what you wanted! ”

I stared at him.

Cold.

Flat.

Empty.

Then I spoke, voice soft—terrifyingly soft.

“You really believe,” I whispered, “that a throne was what I wanted? ”

His breath hitched.

I stepped closer—until the tip of my sword brushed against his trembling knee.

“No, Kaelren,” I continued, eyes narrowing. “I followed you because you killed my innocent people.”

His pupils shrank.

“You didn’t just attack my border soldiers,” I said, my tone dropping to ice. “You starved your own civilians. You let your own troops die as bait. You butchered your siblings for a crown you couldn’t even protect.”

His face paled to the color of ash.

“And do not misunderstand,” I added, voice lowering to a lethal whisper, “—I am not avenging them. I am not merciful. I don’t give justice.”

I leaned even closer, eyes glowing with pure, merciless cruelty.

“You simply did something unforgivable.”

He swallowed—hard.

“H-How did I provoke you…?” he whispered, terrified.

My expression shattered into something monstrous.

“You poisoned the river.”

His breath stopped.

“You poisoned my river,” I growled, stepping on his hand, forcing him down. “You almost killed thousands of my people just to lure out my soldiers. It’s you who wanted the war, and you should’ve been ready to face the consequences.”

He whimpered beneath my boot.

“You don’t deserve to live.”

I raised my sword. Its silver edge glowed crimson in the dying sun.

Kaelren dropped to his knees with a thud, clasping my armor with bloodied fingers. “Please—PLEASE—Princess—I will serve you—I will live under your shadow, I will—!”

I laughed.

A low, dark, chilling sound that made even Haldor stiffen behind me.

“Serve me?” I echoed, tilting my head. “Why would I raise a traitor who butchered his own siblings?”

He froze.

I smiled—cruel enough to stop his breath.

“Too late, Prince.”

I lifted the sword high.

“Far too late.”

He let out one final, pathetic sob—And I brought my blade down.

SLASH!!!!!!!!

His throat split open with a wet, violent tear. A fountain of hot blood sprayed across my face, streaked down my armor, and soaked into my cloak like a red veil.

Kaelren collapsed.

Twitching once.

Then still.

Silence.

The last prince of Meren lay dead at my feet. His crown tumbled from his head and rolled across the stones—until it hit my boot and stopped.

I kicked it aside.

Without looking back at his corpse. Haldor whispered behind me, voice barely audible, breath trembling—

“…Your Highness…”

But I didn’t turn.

I lifted my blood-soaked blade, pointing it toward the shattered kingdom below.

And with a voice cold enough to freeze the air itself, I declared:

“Meren has fallen.”

A gust of wind whipped across the hilltop, carrying the scent of blood and victory. I lowered my sword just slightly… then turned toward my generals.

The sun slid behind me, casting my blood-drenched figure in shadow—A silhouette carved in crimson and fire.

War queen.Executioner.Conqueror.

I met their eyes—Haldor’s trembling with devotion, and Zerith and Arwin breathless with the weight of what I had just done.

“We ride,” I said.

My voice was not loud.

It didn’t need to be.

“We ride to the Imperial Palace…” I stepped forward, cloak dragging through Kaelren’s blood. “…and seize the throne.”

For one heartbeat, none of them moved.

Then—All four dropped to one knee.

Helms lowered.

Fists pressed to armor.

Heads bowed in absolute obedience.

Their voices roared in perfect unison, echoing across the dead kingdom:

“CONGRATULATIONS, YOUR HIGHNESS!”

The wind carried their declaration across the battlefield—To the dying.

To the living. To the soldiers who now knelt as Eloria’s subjects. To the kingdom that no longer belonged to Meren.

I stood above them—blood on my face. Victory in my bones. And a throne waiting beyond the horizon.

The war was over.