Lahat ng Kabanata ng Reborn: The Duke’s Unbothered Villainess: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

Morning came with too much sun and too little patience.My tent flap was thrown open with zero dignity, courtesy of Norma’s loud voice:“Lady Abby, there’s a crisis! The Duke says we’re out of honey biscuits!”I groaned. I wasn’t even fully dressed yet—robe thrown over my nightgown, hair still half-pinned—and already I could hear Alaric’s sharp voice from outside. His tone was that particular blend of king-slayer and bakery critic.“No honey biscuits? And what exactly have we been feeding the knights?” Alaric snapped. “Dry bread and disappointment?”When I stepped outside, still tying my robe, I found him standing like the very picture of Duke Perfection: armored except for his gloves, hair slightly damp from what I suspected was an unnecessarily aggressive morning wash, arms crossed, eyes like a storm.“Are we really discussing biscuits at dawn?” I yawned, rubbing my temple. “Did anyone die? No? Then calm down.”Norma was halfway between panicked and smug. Anita, on the other hand, j

Prince Damian Lucien POVThe fire crackled low, sending orange sparks into the ink-black sky. Around me, the knights sat in near silence—hands nursing tea cups, faces shadowed by the weight of loss. The burial mound was still fresh beyond the edge of camp, three stone markers standing under the moonlight like quiet sentinels. I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much worth saying.Abby sat on the opposite side of the fire, her face half-hidden by her hood. She wasn’t drinking her tea. Just staring into it like she could read prophecies in the leaves. Every few seconds, I saw Alaric glance her way from where he was cleaning his blade, but as usual, he kept his mouth shut. Tension simmered between them—hot, slow, inevitable.Then hooves thundered from the east.A single rider.The camp jumped to its feet—knights drawing blades, Abby already sparking faint lightning at her fingertips. I stood as well, shadows rising like instinct around my boots and wrists. It was a palace messenger, thou

Alaric POVTwo days.That’s how long it had been since Abby and Prince Damian Lucien left for the capital. Two days since I’d last seen her smirk, her spark. Since I’d felt her lightning graze the air beside me like an unspoken promise.And in those two days, we’d barely pushed through a third of the rift’s first wave.Ten casualties now. Ten warriors who had fought and bled under my command, their bodies burned and broken beyond saving. I’d ordered the camp perimeter reinforced twice. Sent scouts twice as often. It wasn’t enough. The rift was stronger than any we’d faced before — as if something was feeding it from beyond.And there I was. Kneeling in the mud, the acidic blood of an orc hissing against my boots as I pried another mana stone from its remains. My hands, gloved and tired, stained with soot and ash. The air was damp with mist and dread.Then I felt it.A crackle.A sizzle through the air, hot and sharp like the kiss of lightning on skin.Abby?No — it wasn’t her. It wasn

The Rift loomed before us like the throat of some ancient beast—sealed, yes, but seething with unspeakable energy.The rain fell harder the moment we reached its blackened edge, like the land itself was warning us. Water hissed as it touched the scorched stone. Steam rose around the edges of the Rift, curling like ghostly fingers through the trees.Thunder rolled across the mountains.Prince Damian stood just behind me, his cloak plastered to his frame, sword drawn but held low—like even he knew steel wouldn’t help in what we were about to do. Norma stood to my right, holding the leather-bound grimoire I’d retrieved from the palace vault.I didn’t know if it was grief or fury guiding my hand anymore. But I was done waiting.I dropped to my knees before the Rift’s barrier, the dirt cold and wet beneath me. The seal shimmered—an iridescent wall of runes and dead mana, locked with royal magic. It was pulsing now. Reacting to me.Good.I placed my palms flat against the ground, just as Ma

ALARIC POVInside the Rift: Trapped Between WorldsI had screamed myself hoarse.My fists were bloodied. The enchanted wall before me—a rippling membrane of silver mist and arcane runes—refused to break no matter how hard I struck it. Magic flared uselessly from my palms, and the pain of failure settled into my bones like rot.I could see them.Abby. Damian. Norma. Even the blasted knights. Their outlines shimmered just beyond the glassy barrier, distorted like reflections on water. I could see Abby collapsing. The storm around her. The way her hand trembled on the scorched ground.But they couldn’t see me.Couldn’t hear me.Like I didn’t exist.“ABBY!” I bellowed again, pounding the barrier. “I’m here! DAMN IT—LOOK AT ME!”The wall pulsed in response. Softly. Mocking me.A hand touched my shoulder.“You’re wasting your voice, Alaric.”I turned, teeth clenched. Max stood there, expression calm—too calm—his face half-lit by the glowing blue cracks in the Rift’s floor. His silver hair s