I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

A little Cherion, just six years old, ran through the sprawling, perfectly manicured rose gardens behind his family’s grand capital estate, his bright laughter echoing through the morning air.

His boots crunched happily against the polished gravel paths as he chased a golden butterfly, passing massive marble fountains and towering stone arches before stopping dead in his tracks near the base of an old, ancient oak tree.

There, half-hidden in the tall, imported grass, was a tiny, fallen bird. Its feathers were ruffled, and its wing hung at a bizarre, unnatural angle, trembling violently as it let out weak, pained chirps.

Cherion’s chest tightened with a sudden wave of intense pity. Without a second thought, he scooped the fragile creature up in his small hands, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the primary manor as fast as his little legs could carry him.

”Father! Mother!” he cried out, bursting through the heavy, gold-trimmed doors of the grand sitting room.

His mother, dressed in elegant silk, sat gracefully on a plush velvet armchair, enjoying her tea, while his father stood near the large hearth, examining a finely crafted hunting knife. They both looked up in surprise at their youngest son’s frantic entry.

Cherion ran straight to his mother’s side, holding his cupped hands out like a sacred offering. ”Please, help the bird!” he begged, his big eyes brimming with tears. ”It fell from the tree, and its wing is broken. It looks so hurt.”

His mother’s expression softened instantly. She reached out, gently patting Cherion’s neatly brushed hair to soothe his panic, the expensive emerald rings on her fingers catching the light. ”Oh, sweetie, calm down,” she assured him gently, her voice a warm embrace. ”Don’t cry. Put it down on the table. We will nurse it back to health together, alright?”

But Cherion couldn’t bear to see the creature suffer for even another second. Looking incredibly sad, he leaned over the table, his small fingers instinctively reaching out to touch the bird right on the exact spot where its wing was bent and bleeding. ’Please don’t be hurt anymore,’ he thought desperately.

Suddenly, a strange, profound warmth bloomed in the center of his chest. Before his parents could even blink, a bright golden light erupted from Cherion’s tiny palms. The illumination filled the entire luxury room, radiating a gentle, energy that felt entirely separate from the world around them.

Within a fraction of a second, the light vanished. Cherion blinked, looking down. The bird’s wing was perfectly straight. The blood had completely disappeared, and the tiny creature suddenly let out a loud, vibrant chirp, hopping around on the wood before flapping its wings and flying straight out the tall, open terrace window.

”Look!” Cherion gasped excitedly, a massive, bright smile breaking across his face as he turned to his mother. ”The bird is okay! It’s completely all better!”

He expected his mother to laugh, to praise him, or to match his bubbling enthusiasm. But when he looked at her face, his smile faltered. His mother looked entirely confused, her complexion turning dangerously pale as she stared at Cherion’s hands in absolute shock. She slowly looked over at his husband, whose hands had gone completely rigid over his knife.

Cherion tilted his head, his excitement melting into confusion. ”Why are you not happy that the bird is okay, Mother?”

His mother violently snapped out of her daze, swallowing hard as she forced a tight, visibly strained smile onto her lips. She quickly pulled Cherion into a tight hug, though her silk-clad arms were shaking. ”No, no... of course I am happy, Cherion. I’m very happy.”

But Cherion kept doing that. Completely unaware of the terrifying nature of his power, he continued to use it whenever he saw his loved ones in pain.

A few weeks later, while his mother was cutting fruit, the small silver knife slipped, cutting deep into her finger. She let out a sharp cry of pain, blood instantly welling from the wound. Cherion, who had been sitting on the floor playing, scrambled to his feet. Before she could hide her hand, he pressed his small fingers against the cut. The golden light flared, and the skin knit itself back together flawlessly, leaving behind nothing but a faint smudge of blood.

The same thing happened when his older brother returned home to the estate from a grueling training, his arms covered in nasty, purple bruises. Cherion had enthusiastically touched his brother’s shoulder, sending that same warm, golden glow rippling across his skin until the bruises vanished entirely.

Unlike Cherion, who was purely happy to see his loved ones not hurt anymore, his family was not that happy. Every time the golden light appeared, his parents’ eyes filled with a suffocating, silent dread.

Then, one sunny morning, his parents announced they were taking a trip to the capital. They packed an extravagant carriage, dragging Cherion and his older brother along. Cherion was ecstatic. He completely thought it was just a happy family picnic day, holding his brother’s hand and humming a cheerful tune as they approached the towering, white marble structures of the central Holy Temple.

Instead of sitting on the grass outside, however, their noble crest granted them immediate passage through a private back entrance, bypassing the public prayer halls completely.

They were led into a grand, secluded room lined with high stained-glass windows and religious relics. Waiting for them inside was a man dressed in pristine white and gold robes, the High Priest.

The doors shut, cutting them off from all outside interference. The High Priest looked at the Antels, his expression polite but curious. He turned to Cherion’s father, offering a respectful nod. ”It has been many years, old friend. Your letter sounded incredibly urgent. What is it that you need the Temple’s help with?”

Silence fell over the room. Cherion’s father didn’t answer with words. Instead, his face hardening into a look of grim determination, he reached into his belt, pulled out a sharp silver blade, and forcefully sliced it across his own index finger.

”Father!” Cherion gasped, his eyes widening in pure horror. The High Priest let out a sharp, sudden gasp of his own, entirely caught off guard by the violent act. The rest of the family, however, remained completely calm, having expected this exact demonstration.

Blood began to drip rapidly from his father’s hand onto the marble floor. His father didn’t flinch. He slowly knelt down until he was at eye level with his youngest son, extending the bleeding finger forward.

”Cherion,” his father spoke, his voice incredibly soft, yet laced with a heartbreaking desperation. ”Do what you usually do when someone gets hurt.”

Cherion looked at the blood, his heart pounding in his chest. He hated seeing his father injured. Nodding frantically, he stepped forward and placed his small palms over his father’s bleeding wound.

Instantly, the golden light exploded into existence once more. The raw, sovereign power of absolute restoration flooded the sacred room, illuminating every dark corner with an ancient, undeniable warmth. The cut vanished in a blink, the flesh perfectly restored as if the blade had never touched it.

The High Priest completely froze. His gaze lingered on the six-year-old noble child, unable to hide his shock.

Cherion pulled his hands back, looking up at his father with a proud smile, waiting for the praise that never came.

His father slowly stood up, turning his face to the stunned High Priest. He placed both of his hands heavily onto the priest’s desk, his shoulders trembling as he dropped the request.

”Your Holiness,” Cherion’s father spoke, his voice cracking with a terrifying mix of grief and fear. ”Please. We want whatever this power is... completely gone from Cherion.”