Taming The Villainesses novel Chapter 362

Screams began to rise from all directions.

“What’s going on? What is this?”

Elga von Leones, waiting in the VIP section for the next match, couldn’t hide her confusion.

The massive crowd in the coliseum had begun to flee, shrieking like refugees from a battlefield.

BOOOOM—!

Then came a thunderous explosion and tremor from beneath the arena. She couldn’t be sure what had happened, but Elga had a good sense for these things.

“So it’s finally blown up.”

She had been starting to wonder why things were going so smoothly.

In fact, it had all been too smooth until now—so she had been on edge. Now that everything was blowing up, a strange sense of relief washed over her.

Of course. That’s more like it.

“Elga, we should probably get out of here too.”

Professor Stella, seated beside her, lightly grabbed Elga’s arm. She was right. They should leave. Elga had no desire to get hurt getting caught up in some disaster.

She was just about to stand when—

BOOOOOOM—!

Another massive explosion ripped open the floor of the arena like a volcano erupting.

From the smoke, a man in a black robe emerged, holding a young woman with blue eyes in his grasp.

‘That’s Aslan.’

A distant relative—Aslan of Orléans. Elga knew her well: one of the cadet branches with a hostile attitude toward the Leones main house, particularly bitter over inheritance disputes. Always noisy at family gatherings.

To see someone like that held hostage...

As annoying as her self-righteousness was, Aslan was strong—strong enough to have served on the western front.

If someone had taken her hostage...

Elga narrowed her eyes.

The one holding her was someone... familiar.

His face was hidden behind a robe and mask, but Elga wasn’t so naïve that she couldn’t recognize her own life partner.

‘...That bastard. What the hell is he doing?’

As she puzzled over this, the man spoke.

“I am the Mage King, Angmar. I’ve planted mana-triggered bombs throughout the coliseum. I can detonate them with a mere wave of my hand.”

Swish.

BOOOOOM—!

As he extended his hand, a massive explosion went off in the empty stadium. The crowd screamed louder, covering their ears as they fled in panic.

A tournament that had taken nearly three months to prepare had turned to hell in less than three minutes.

And he was the one stirring mud into his own soup. Elga couldn’t begin to fathom what this half-fairy was thinking.

‘Why smear the name of Angmar like this? If this is how he reclaims the throne, he’ll never earn the people's support.’

She couldn’t understand it—but surely, there was some reason.

‘There’s no way he actually planted bombs.’

So why say that? Elga had begun to suspect, as others might, that he was acting. But the real question was—why?

Then, watching the fleeing people, it hit her.

Was he trying to halt the tournament and evacuate the audience?

‘I'm not sure... but—’

Click.

Elga clicked her tongue and stood up.

“Professor Stella, we should help people evacuate. There’s no time to sit around. We have to restore order somehow.”

“Y-yeah, you’re right.”

Rustle.

As she stood and began helping the crowd, Elga looked down at the arena.

What the hell was that guy thinking? Maybe it was just the distance, or the mask, but he felt so far away.

People were fleeing in chaos.

With everyone rushing toward the exits at once, things were messy—but soldiers who finally understood the situation were managing to restore order and usher people out.

Looks like the evacuation’s going okay.

Now the problem is that side.

Lift.

I raised my head and looked toward the Queen’s throne, high above.

Ayra sat with her legs crossed, perfectly composed. Her expression—pure arrogance. She didn’t seem surprised at all. It was like she knew this was going to happen.

I’d come a long way.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’d already done things I could never undo. All I could do now was press the gas pedal.

“Ayra von Tarantella.”

I spoke toward her.

“I defeated all the other finalists. I brought down Aslan of Orléans with ease. I’m the rightful winner of this tournament. And so, I invoke my right to challenge you.”

Half a lie, but half-truth.

Of all the finalists, only Aslan and I remained. And I had subdued her easily. You could say I was the true winner.

Someone might scoff and say that hardly mattered now—but Ayra was the type to take these things [N O V E L I G H T] seriously.

Maybe that’s why—

Ayra slowly opened her mouth and—

━━━──.

She burst into laughter.

As her voice echoed through the heads of the panicked crowd, everyone stopped in their tracks and turned toward their queen.

But Ayra didn’t care.

She laughed like she’d just heard the funniest story in the world. A tear even fell from one of her eyes.

I was a little stunned. I’d never seen her laugh like that before.

She could laugh... like this?

And to think I only discovered it now, of all times.

After laughing for a long while, Ayra finally wiped her eye and asked:

“You call yourself the Mage King Angmar? You seem clever enough to know what it means to speak that name before me.”

“Yeah. I can’t go back now.”

At my reply, I caught a fleeting, complex expression flicker across Ayra’s distant face. Then she gently closed her eyes and said,

“Even if you are a heinous criminal, as queen, I must honor the challenge. Very well, Mage King Angmar. I accept. Defeat me and claim your prize.”

Step.

Ayra rose from the throne.

As she began walking through the air toward the stage, the shattered fragments of the coliseum floated up and formed a stairway beneath her feet.

A royal path.

The elegant and mystical sight made the fleeing spectators freeze. All of them held their breath, fixated on the queen’s every step.

The way she seized their attention—it was like magic itself.

Ayra had grown into a true queen.

I was proud.

But also nervous—because it meant the people had stopped running.

Yet Ayra remained poised.

“My subjects, fear not. There has merely been a touch of impurity in this sacred Queen’s Tournament. I was aware of it even before the games began.”

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With a flick of her fingers, several people floated into the air.

“The secret society Yggdrasil.”

Snap.

More people rose.

“The Black-Robed Revolutionaries. The Moonlight Cult. The Anarchists.”

One after another, she named them. All factions that had tried to exploit the tournament.

Apparently, she’d known all along.

Ayra’s eyes saw through truth and lies.

They couldn’t escape her gaze.

“And lastly.”

At last, Ayra’s finger pointed at me.

“The ancient wraith.”

Swiiish.

She drew a line through the air.

Fragments of the shattered arena floor began flying toward me. Their size and speed rivaled cannon shells.

—Mana Shield.

But I’d expected the attack. Blocking it wasn’t difficult at my current level.

As I held my ground behind the dust and debris, I lifted my head.

Ayra now stood gracefully on the stage, her hair rising like spider legs.

It meant she was going all out.

“Children of David, bear witness. Behold your queen—Ayra von Tarantella. Your true sovereign, revealed before your eyes.”