The Empire of Aetherion

Capital City: Elaris Arkanveil Academy

The sun blazed high above a colossal stone coliseum, its golden rays dancing across steel blades, polished armor, and robes stitched with threads of gold. The air thrummed with nervousness and excitement, as if the sky itself held its breath in anticipation.

The colossal structure was circular and ancient a symbol of history and pride. Tens of thousands of eyes peered down from the gallery above, the stands packed with nobles, scholars, knights, and spectators from across the continent.

This was the Academy of Arkanveil, the most prestigious magic and combat academy in the known world. And today marked the first trial: the Gate of Worth, the symbolic entrance test of Arkanveil Academy.

Below the crowd, on the wide white-stone arena floor elegant yet strong stood thousands of youths. Candidates from every kingdom, house, and caste. They were the next generation of heroes, bigshots or so they hoped. Boys and girls, some no older than sixteen, others nearing twenty, stood in clusters, chatting among themselves, a blend of excitement, nervousness, seriousness, and every imaginable emotion. Some even bore faces of fear and worry, as if this might be their last day.

There were those clad in brilliant robes of house colors, crests stitched proudly into their sleeves. Many bore weapons blades, halberds etched with runes while some stood with none, yet their bodies hummed with mana. Each of them had a story, a family, a background that either screamed nobility or whispered ambition.

Nobles stood in clusters, noses in the air, murmuring among themselves, casting disdainful glances at those in simpler clothes or without family crests. Commoners, by contrast, kept their distance, yet the ambition in their eyes burned brighter than any noble's. Their gazes held hunger, but also a dark, eerie resolve, as if they had long since said their goodbyes and accepted that they might not return.

Soon, nobles and high-standing candidates began whispering among themselves.

"Did you hear? The heirs of all four top families are joining the academy this year too!"

"Are you utterly devoid of sense? Who could possibly be ignorant of that?" one noble scoffed sharply, only to be silenced by another.. likely of higher rank.

"No, it's three duke houses, you imbecile. The Virelan heiress is already well into her fourth year."

"Just look up at the crowd above. That alone tells you everything."

Their gazes drifted upward toward the stands packed with nobles.

From below, many gulped as they looked up.

High above the arena, built into the stone walls themselves, were five grand viewing chambers, spaced evenly as if placed with deliberate intent. The center one was the largest, radiating authority and reverence.

These five chambers, visible to all, were reserved for the Four Duke Families. The highest slightly elevated above the rest.. belonged to the Royal Family.

Royal Guards stood before it like stone statues: strong, unmoving, radiating a crushing aura. Each chamber bore its house flag, fluttering in the wind.

The Royal House sat at the center, its crest a divine crown crossed by two swords gleaming under the sun.

Flanking it were the Four Grand Duke Houses, each cloaked in their own majesty:

The shifting illusions of Virelan

The blazing heat of Drakenvyr

The blooming spirit vines of Faerelith

And the radiant glow of Luminus

"Yeah, look at the Royal Knights in the stands. I think the Royal Princess might be joining the academy this year too. Otherwise, I don't think the family would've sent their representatives let alone Royal Guards," one whispered, gulping. "This might be the first time in history since the academy's founding that heirs from all Four Duke Families and the Royal Family are present in one academy."

"That's… scary. But still, I don't get it. Why are they even taking the Academy Trial Test? As far as I know, people like them get directly admitted to the highest classes. What's the point?" another candidate asked nervously.

"Obviously, genius, it's because they want to prove who stands first. It's a race a contest to determine supremacy. Though I doubt the Royal Princess will participate, the rivalry among the duke houses is certain to unfold."

"Since the Virelan family's heiress is already in her fourth year, the competition will likely be among the remaining three houses. That might also explain why it won't be a fully fledged contest and why the patriarchs themselves aren't present. If all four houses were involved, this would've been a far grander affair. That's probably why only representatives showed up."

While such discussions spread across the arena, far from the crowd in an almost conspicuously isolated spot stood a lone figure in a black robe. It covered him from head to toe, his face hidden beneath its shadowed hood. Yet if one looked closely, they would notice his pale complexion, sharp features, and obsidian-black eyes so deep it felt as though one might sink into them. His hair, dark royal purple-blue, slipped faintly into view.

He stood silently, expressionless as if incapable of showing emotion at all, as though it were permanently etched into his face. But inwardly, he sighed, resisting the urge to shake his head.

[Tsk, tsk, host… this seems more like an event made just for you. What a perfect villain's entrance, huh? Who else could carry an aura like yours? Just look all the higher-ups are somehow connected to you…]

[Your ex-fiancée, the Royal Princess herself, is here. Your elder sister, Nova Virelan, who hates you to the core. The protagonist the golden sun of this world your fated and eternal enemy, destined to kill you: Aeron Drakenvyr. And of course, how could we forget your childhood friend who accused you of rape Selene Luminus… Oh, she's a Saintess now too. You are fucked.]

[Honestly, you really are the ideal villain host. Enemy of the strongest empire in the world, with all four duke families and even the royal family stacked against you.]

---

...

The deep, robotic voice rang inside Razeal's head uninvited and annoyingly smug. He rolled his eyes, lips twitching into a bitter half-smile.

"When did it become four Duke families, you idiot?" he muttered under his breath. "It's only counted as three. And I don't even have beef with the Faereliths, as far as I remember."

[The whole world hates you anyway,] the system responded without hesitation. [Even if you don't stand on their bad side, they'll get there eventually. That is your fate.]

Razeal didn't bother replying back. It was useless anyways. The voice in his head had been with him for six years now relentless, cynical, and always right. Arguing with it only made his mood worse, and today was already heavy enough.

Six years. That was when it started. He had awakened his system at the age of ten a moment that should have changed everything for the better.

But let's rewind.

This wasn't just any world. It was a novel.

Literally. A fictional realm he had once read about in his past life. The title?

The Chosen One.

A heroic tale filled with brave warriors, ancient magic, sacred bloodlines, and of course the shining protagonist destined to save the world.

And just his luck?

He wasn't that guy.

Yeah. Razeal had been reborn as a villain. The final boss.

The ultimate threat who dies to fuel the hero's last evolution.

Not just any villain, either. One with a noble background, grand titles, and of course a legacy soaked in power.

And let's face it: heroes could be orphans.

But villains?

They always came from somewhere grand.

His full name had once been Razeal Virelan, second son of Duke Virelan, heir to the Mindveil legacy. A boy born with the promise of illusion and sword a blend few could ever hope to match.

But that name had been taken from him.

Stripped, Punished and ultimately Exiled.

He was cast out at eleven, expelled from his home like a stain too shameful to scrub clean. His own mother had stood there as the gates shut behind him, not a flicker of guilt in her eyes.

He had once tried to remember everything that happened in between.. every wrong turn, every naïve belief. But over time, those memories dulled. Not because they stopped hurting, but because they stopped mattering.

There was no point holding on to memories that held no meaning anymore.

[Host.]

"I know," Razeal sighed, noticing a subtle movement in the corner of his vision. A knight had just stepped toward him barely a shift in stance, but enough for someone like him to notice.

I wish you weren't useless, system, he complained internally. You're nothing like the systems from the novels I read. All you've given me are disadvantages. And yet you still act like I should live up to your expectations and rules.

It was all because of the system.

If not for it, would he have been forced to stay hidden for the past five years? Always running. Always one step from death. All that pain. All that suffering…

Then he paused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Am I complaining too much these days?

Maybe it was because he hadn't spoken to another human in five years. Talking to himself had become a habit one he never intended to form.

The system fell silent.

And now, he supposed, he had no choice.

He would have to reveal himself.

Maybe he wouldn't be attacked immediately but then again, when had things ever gone that smoothly for him? Still, he had come here because he was confident that nothing truly irreversible would happen within these grounds.

And more importantly… He didn't want to stay hidden anymore.

For many reasons.

Some of which he couldn't even articulate.

Who knew? Maybe someone here could read minds.

Besides, it wasn't like he wasn't going to do this eventually. He had plans to participate in threads he had to reenter.

"I'll trust you one last time, system," he said quietly. "If you fail me this time, you'll be my enemy too. It'd be better if you didn't lie to me."

With a cold expression, he raised his hands and pulled back the robe covering his head. Dark royal purple hair spilled freely into the air, his sharp features fully revealed for all to see.

[Thanks,] the system replied softly.

For no reason at all, Razeal ignored it completely.

At the same moment, the knight who had been watching him froze, eyes narrowing.

That hair color…

A Virelan?

Direct bloodline of that?

The knight analyzed everything in an instant. Royal purple undeniable proof. And the faint purple birthmark at the back of his neck…

There were only two direct heirs.

And this one wasn't a girl.

Then… is he that exiled son of Duke Virelan? He's alive?

The realization struck him within seconds. After all, a knight of his rank wouldn't miss something like this.

Still… it's not my place.

Even so, instinct compelled him to act. A subtle shift of his gaze sent a silent signal to another guard stationed nearby.

Remain vigilant.

All of it unfolded in less than ten seconds.

Razeal didn't spare the knight even a glance. His gaze remained fixed.. unblinking on the empty space before him, as if expecting something inevitable.

One… two… five… seven… nine…

Grandmaster at minimum, he thought so counting at the same time. No doubt.

A sudden breeze brushed through his hair a sensation he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity.

Then, without warning, a golden beam of light shot forth from one of the viewing chambers high above. It cut through the air like a divine arrow.

A figure clad in gleaming golden knight armor launched forward with blinding speed. The knight's sword, radiating unimaginable power, arced straight toward Razeal's neck.

"For your blasphemy and vile acts," the knight declared, voice booming, "face your judgment."

But Razeal didn't move. A small smile curved his lips.. One he had begun forming long before this moment.

---

...

The sword was screaming toward his neck too fast, too close.

Razeal's body, as it stood now, was neither strong enough nor fast enough to evade such a strike. The sheer pressure behind it carved a line through the air, threatening to separate flesh from bone. Two inches. That was all that remained between life and death.

And then

Click

The sharp ring of metal colliding with metal echoed like a thunderclap across the silent grounds.

Razeal's smile widened.

The force of the impact kicked up a surge of wind, strong and sharp. His royal purple hair snapped back, caught in the gale, and he instinctively took one calm step back not in fear, but in rhythm, as if he'd already rehearsed this moment in his mind.

A towering figure now stood before him, blocking the golden knight's strike with a single hand gripping a massive greatsword. The man wore a long black cape draped over one shoulder, and his posture was almost lazy one hand held the blade like it weighed nothing, while the other remained calmly behind his back.

Sparks scattered like fireflies as the two blades pressed against each other.

"Killing on the grounds of Arkanveil Academy is prohibited," the man said, his tone composed, but carrying a pressure that felt heavier than the golden knight's blow itself. "Sir Radiant Knight… surely you haven't forgotten the rules."

The golden-armored knight didn't speak immediately. His blade remained locked in place, but his glowing eyes behind the helm narrowed.

The man before Razeal didn't look back at him. He didn't need to.

He knew exactly who he was protecting and why.

He knew exactly who he was protecting and why.

And Razeal?

He just stood there. Smiling.

Tch Dorn Varkharn, the man in the black cape, narrowed his eyes.

This brat… he knew I'd intervene, didn't he?

Dorn Varkharn's eyes narrowed. He didn't turn around not that he need to as if he had already seen that Arrogant smile. It had started forming before any of this had even begun. A smirk full of quiet certainty, almost like a well placed trap that had just sprung shut.

And now, the boy stood there behind him. Calm. Composed and arrogantly confident. As if Dorn was his personal bodyguard, assigned to jump in at the right moment and shield him from divine judgment.

The audacity.

Dorn's fingers twitched on the hilt of his greatsword. Not out of fear but restraint.

He'd been played. And he knows it but Even tho feeling disgusted about it he can't step back.

A sharp scrape of metal drew his attention forward.

The knight in golden armor radiating power like a miniature sun slowly withdrew his blade, its edge gleaming as it lowered to the ground. The tip kissed the stone arena floor with a metallic clink, and both his gauntleted hands rested on the hilt like the weight of his purpose needed steady grounding.

He stared Dorn in the eyes, voice echoing with thunderous clarity.

"Dorn Varkharn. Step aside. That sinner had tried to defile the Saintess."

The arena, previously holding its breath, exhaled in confusion and finally alarm. Nobles and commoners alike began to murmur, heads snapping toward the commotion, eyes widening as they finally caught up to what was unfolding.

Gasps spread like wildfire.

The Saintess? Attempted defile? Who dares?

No one needed a detailed explanation. The tension bleeding off that corner of the arena was heavy enough to smother the air itself. No one needed to be told to move instinct did the work for them. People shuffled back in unison, a circle forming around the three figures locked in silent hostility.

Then Swish. Swish. Swish.

Seven no, eight knights in immaculate silver armor descended from various positions in the stands. They landed with synchronized precision, boots striking the marble floor as their formation closed around Dorn and Razeal like a silvery net.

Each knight drew their weapon, blades whispering from their scabbards in practiced rhythm. They aligned beside the golden knight, their armor shining like stars caught in daylight.

The proud Order of the Church of Light. The Silver Knights.

Their presence wasn't ceremonial. It was a warning.

Then, as if gently dusting off a mask, he took a single step backward. The smirk vanished. In its place bloomed a wide-eyed expression so pure, so bewildered, it could have been mistaken for an angel's. A breathless innocence clung to his face

"Me?" his face seemed to say. "What did I do?"

The golden knight's eyes burned behind his helmet.

"Blasphemy."

A single word laced with thunder shattered the air.

His divine aura erupted, golden radiance flooding the space like a second sun had been born in the arena. The ground quivered beneath his armored feet. That pressure it wasn't mana it was weight The weight of judgment, fury, and sanctity combined.

Razeal felt it all crash into him like a divine hammer.

For a moment just a moment his knees buckled. His lungs seized, and his heartbeat stopped.

So this is what death feels like. Just from aura alone.

But before the weight could reach its crescendo

Whoosh.

A wind blew through the arena, soft but commanding, scattering the crushing force like ash in a storm. The divine pressure dissolved as if it had never existed.

Razeal gasped for breath.

Alive.

And smiling again... I Won he thought

Dorn Varkharnb still between them lifted a single finger, swinging it lazily through the air as if brushing off dust. His expression was unmoved, but a deep sigh escaped his lips.

"Sir Radiant Knight, please" he said flatly, "killing on the grounds of Arkanveil Academy is prohibited. You know this."

The golden knight stepped forward, his grip tightening on his sword. His voice, like a herald's trumpet, rang out again:

"Are you standing against justice, Warden Dorn?" he asked, voice ringing with righteous steel. "Justice for the Church of Light against one who once dared raise his hand to the Saintess? If so, then I may..."

The arena tensed. Swords hummed. The very air seemed to still.

But then

Click. Click. Click.

The sharp rhythm of heels striking the stone floor echoed through the arena like a drumbeat.

All eyes turned.

Emerging from the crowd came a woman draped in violet and silver, her hair tied in a regal cascade behind her. Her every step demanded space commanded silence.

Her voice followed, brisk and unwavering.

"Do not twist his words, Knight."

She stopped just before the circle of confrontation, eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. "This is Arkanveil Academy. And do remember currently you are standing in the presence of a royal princess of the Empire. Are you so eager to violate order and tear down your own name in front of both crown and congregation?"

The crowd parted around her like water around a blade.

"Vice Headmistress…" nobles whispered, breath caught in their throats.

"Lady Selvara." The Radiant Knight whispered hesitating, his muscles locked in tension. Her gaze bored into him.

"Please," she added softly, but with an edge that carried more weight than his blade. "Understand The Word's. Killing on the grounds of Arkanveil Academy is prohibited." her gaze locking with his. Her tone was even, but behind her measured words, was a hidden Meaning as trying to say not In Academy Ground Only.

The guard's jaw tensed. He understood. Oh, he understood all too well the meaning behind her words. But how could he simply stand down?

This man this filth had dared to raise his hand against the Saintess. A vile act. A sin against divinity itself. Could he, a sworn knight, simply let it pass? Could he abandon his sacred duty?

But logic harsh and cold told him One move here, and he would definitely die.

He knew deep down, with brutal clarity that one move, one swing, and death would meet him without delay. Before him stood not only the Warden of Arkanveil, but the Vice Headmistress herself. He would not survive. He knows that pretty clearly even before he could touch that filth his head might get cut off.

But to do nothing that would be disgraceful to the dignity of sainteess.

To stand idle would be betrayal.

To watch in silence would be sin.

His jaw clenched shoulders stiffened.

He lowered his stance, sword tilting, breath pausing.

His heart raced not out of fear but devotion.

A sacred flame that demanded action, even if it burned him alive.

He closed his eyes for just a moment.

And in that moment, peace washed over his expression.

A soft, reverent smile crept onto his lips as if he was standing not at death's door, but at the altar of martyrdom. A willing sacrifice for the dignity of the Saintess. For the sanctity of Sacrade.

He was ready.

But before his foot could move, before his blade could rise...

A voice fell upon the air.

Soft.

Gentle.

Like a breeze that carried divinity.

"My beloved knights, step back."

It wasn't a command, like a blessing of prayer in sound. As if the world itself hushed to listen.

The tension vanished in an instant. The thick, heavy atmosphere that had gripped the courtyard dissipated, replaced by a soothing calm, as though the wind itself bowed to the speaker.

A holy presence.

Divine.

"Your Holy Saintess…"

The knights responded as one.

Without hesitation.. Or even fear of retaliation from Dorn or the Vice Headmistress herself.

They knelt.

All of them.

Three knees to the ground, a sacred bow reserved only for the Saintess Herself. Swords lowered, edges flat against the stone. Heads bowing.

Reverence filled the courtyard.

Their gaze every last one lifted toward the upper chamber.

There, above them, two flags danced softly in the breeze.

One bore the shining sigil of the Church of Light.

The other, the royal crest of the Luminus Family.

From within, veiled by divine radiance, the Saintess stood.

She had spoken once.

And that was all it took.

No arguments followed or resistance.

The knights vanished from the courtyard like mist under sunlight.

Gone

as if divine judgment had passed and they were dismissed by Heaven itself.

As the last shimmer of light faded knights vanishing like whispers swallowed by the void Razeal tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lips raised in arrogant smirk.

He touched the bridge of his nose with index finger and thumb. A gesture so casual, it almost mocked the sacred air still lingering.

Then, without moving his lips

"Victory," he whispered in the silence of his mind.

Villey's voice burst into his mind like an overexcited narrator who had just witnessed the climax of a tragedy.

[I mean, I knew you understood the laws and temperaments of these people sure but trusting your life on it? That's not brave. That's borderline insane. You were literally surrounded by a Grandmaster and eight Swordmasters ready to chop your head clean off! I almost short-circuited just watching!]

Razeal didn't answer immediately. He just let the silence stretch as he gazed at the grand stone floor beneath his feet the place where his blood could've painted history.

"I trust my plans, Villey."

His tone was quiet only for him and the system to hear.

"And if you can't bet your life on your own plans, then they were never worth calling 'plans' in the first place."

Arrogant but Grounded. There was no trace of doubt only certainty wrapped in steel.

And with that, he smiled like not really a grin, Just an expression of relief.

No.

It was the smile of a man who knew he'd won before the game had even started.

Arrogance wrapped in certainty.

In his obsidian eyes, a flicker of defiance shimmered. A glint so confident, it bordered on blasphemy.

[Yes, yes…Whatever] Villey muttered dramatically. [But I must say, Host… you really do have the talent of a villain. It's like watching a crow walk into a cathedral and make the priests pray to it.]

Razeal's eyes narrowed slightly, amused. But his tone turned just a degree sharper.

"Just stay true to your words at that time, Villey. Or I'll rewrite your voice to sound like a squirrel on helium even after my death permanently so even if you had future hosts you be fucked." Razeal murmured, his hand finally falling from his nose. His fingers curled into a loose fist, black-gloved and still.

[NO NO NO! All good, all good! Just your ever-loyal, entirely harmless system here supporting your darkest ambitions one sinister quip at a time!]

[As I already told you, your system's main function will fully unlock the moment you pass through the Gates of Worth. That's the condition. May I choke on my own manhood if I'm lying may two inches be severed off, and three lines of tragic poetry written about the loss.]

There was a pause.

Razeal blinked slowly.

"You only have two inches."

[EXACTLY. That's why I'd never lie! WHO risks everything like that?! WAIT WHAT THE FUCK MOTHERFUCKER ITS NOT]

---

...

Razeal sighed under his breath. Whether from the absurdity or the relief, even he couldn't tell. his eyes turned toward the distant archway looming ahead.

The Gates of Worth.

Not just a symbolic threshold… but his threshold.

But just as he was thinking

Suddenly, he felt two strong hands resting on his shoulders, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He felt his shoulders being squeezed, but Razeal didn't say anything. Only an arrogant smile remained on his face, as if he couldn't feel the pain or doesn't care whatever this man was trying to do.

Dorn had a crazed smile in his eyes, killing intent clearly visible. He hated the feeling of being used and even more when his duty was treated like an illusion by some naive kid. who thought everything was going according to plan he had made? Dreaming. Arrogance and stupidity, when all the kid was doing… was simply existing.

Dorn leaned his head closer to Razeal's ear.

"I surely do not like that disgusting smile on your face."

"Let me guess!!... Do you think you won, Right kid? That this was all part of your plan? Wake up to reality, kid whatever imaginary illusions you're having. Right now, you're alive only because the Princess is here. If not for the rules or her presence, you'd already be dead meat. You know that?."

Razeal stayed silent, saying nothing only his eyes locked with Dorn's, still smiling.

"You… You... The audacity" The words didn't come out fully, choked by the rage Dorn felt.

The veins on his neck were visibly bulging as he looked at that smile. He felt utterly disgusted. Disrespected.

He leaned even closer to Razeal's ear.

"Don't fly too high. You didn't win. It's just your illusion. And you will die. Just step out of the academy grounds and now even if they don't kill you, I definitely will…" Dorn hissed, the rage climbed higher than it ever had before. Dorn had never felt such a twisted, burning urge to break someone illusions.

But even so enraged, he couldn't touch him now not here atleast. So, without another word, he bit it down, clenching his jaw until it ached, and released the boy's shoulders. Without another word, he turned around started walking away.

Disgusted!! he was feeling Disgusted just seeing the kid.

The sight of that smirking brat… it sickened him. Just moments ago, the kid had been strutting like a peacock, now Didn't even have the guts to speak to his face? Pathetic.

But just as he did

"I won't," Razeal's voice rang out from behind, arrogant and sharp, laced with a wild smile.

Dorn stopped mid step.

He turned slowly, like a man whose patience had just cracked. His eyes locked onto Razeal, who hadn't moved an inch. That damned smile was still plastered across the boy's lips.

A vein twitched at the side of Dorn's neck. "You… what did you say?"

Razeal's black eyes met his, flat and void of fear. "Even if I did... You wouldn't dare."

"You dare?" Dorn turned around, his aura nearly bursting out, staring at that arrogant face.

He felt utterly and extremely furious.

Dorn's eyes narrowed his face twisted in contempt.

"You no longer carry the name of Virelan!! kid," he snarled, venom lacing every word. "Your arrogance is disgusting."

He stepped closer, glaring at Razeal like he were filth beneath his boots.

"I can't even sense a trace of aura from you. No mana. No contract. No sharpness in your stance means you're not even a swordsman. So tell me, on what damn basis are you standing there, smiling like that? On what FUCKING basis this enormous arrogance of yours"

His disgust deepened, as if even breathing the same air as Razeal was offensive.

"Disgraceful. Weak. But worst of all arrogant. That's what I hate the most but even more when a person who acts arrogant with no Fucking abilities."

Dorn leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, thick with murderous intent.

"Don't die inside the Gates of Worth... because I wanna kill you myself nowwww. You detritus of offal."

"Don't die inside the Gates of Worth... because I want to kill you myself now. You detritus of offal," He said it, then finally walked away with his back turned, no longer willing to fuck with his own mental health.

[Host! Ahem… just a reminder… cough, this time it was really too much. Trying to challenge someone of that level please, kindly, let me remind you, even if you've awakened that system function, there's no way you'll survive in your current state… so please, control yourself. Believe it or not, I really can't take on another host. My soul is already bound to you.]

Razeal heard every word but didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on Dorn's back as the man walked away.

He knew full well if Dorn wanted to kill him, even a flick of his finger would've been enough. Challenging him wasn't brave. It was suicidal.

But that was the whole point.

That's the fun, Villey. You wouldn't understand.

And remind me, when was the last time I trusted you? I only trust in my plans.

"And when was the last time I trusted you, anyway?" he whispered under his breath, a smirk crawling up his lips. "I trust only my plans."

He didn't do anything wrong. It was that man who challenged him. And who decided he couldn't win just because he was a million times weaker?

Ridiculous.

What was that quote again, Villey?

'Swords and magic are worthless… in front of a villain's plan.'

[ "_" ]

The system didn't reply.

Not even a snarky beep.

---

Across the stone courtyard, Vice Headmistress Selvara remained still, arms folded as Dorn approached.

She smiled faintly, amusement in her eyes.

"Did you feel used?" she asked, voice smooth as silk with a blade underneath.

Dorn's answer was cold. "No. I think he thinks he used everyone." His words weren't spoken aloud, yet Selvara heard them all the same delivered through mana-link. Silent. Precise. Private.

His tone was calm, but laced with contempt. "Maybe the brat doesn't realize… he really would've lost his head if the Princess hadn't been here. Does he actually think anyone here gives a damn about the rules? Rules only matter until they cost more than they're worth."

Selvara's brow arched. "Is that so? What if…" she tilted her head, voice brushing softly into his mind, "…the boy already considered that?"

Dorn frowned, annoyed. "It was just a fluke. Don't read too much into it."

He hated it when people who didn't deserve it got misunderstood and labeled as something special.

Selvara's lips didn't move, but her voice reached him again calm, cryptic. "Even if he no longer carries the Virelan name… that blood runs deep in him. The blood of monsters. Of tacticians. And his is… among the purest."

Dorn said nothing more.

To him, worth could only be judged through strength and ability. Not talk or arrogance.

Words after all were as light as air.

And a plateau full of them was still just wind

---

...

As for the person they were talking about, he just stood silently in the corner, slowly removing the whole dark robe he was wearing. He didn't need to hide his appearance anymore after all, the whole arena seemed to recognize him now anyways.

Fuck my luck, he cursed to himself, as finally, a set of black, cool-looking clothes appeared on his body. They looked elegant and noble, even though completely different from what other nobles wore. No everyone's style looked different, as if from a completely different culture.

And why wouldn't it be?

This was a dark black casual tuxedo with a long blazer, making him look intoxicatingly elegant and refined. The outfit hadn't even originated in this world. It came from the world Razeal used to live in, and he had recreated it here.

Well, actually before any of you start judging his weird taste, thinking "That outfit must be hard to fight in" or "How uncomfortable does that look?" let's get something straight.

It's not like he had nothing better to do and decided to tailor it just for fun.

Not at all.

This whole thing was because of that motherfucking system.

The same damn system that insisted:

[A villain must have a sense of fashion. Just by your appearance, you should scream class. So... wear something worthy of a villain.]

Honestly, it was exhausting. Only Razeal knew how hard it had been to craft this from scratch by hand, from memory just to replicate a design from a world that no longer existed.

Recreating every step of the design and creation process with no blueprint…

So much effort… just for clothing.

The outfit was elegant enough that, under normal circumstances, the crowd who already had their eyes on him thanks to all the chaos earlier would have given him a few side-glances.

But sadly, no one was in that mood now.

Instead, the entire arena murmured among themselves, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Razeal.

"He's still alive? Damn…"

"Honestly, I wished he could've been executed back then. But I guess being a Duke's son does come with privileges. Even if you get caught trying to rape someone, you still walk out safely.

Well, it was only because of Miss Luminus's family. Even though she's the heiress of a Duke family herself, her side chose to settle things quietly with the Virelans. Though I've heard the price the Virelans paid was very big... I don't know the details.

It was just his luck that, at the time, Miss Luminus hadn't yet been chosen as the Saintess. If she had been and with the wrath of the Church of Light behind her then even House Virelan would've been forced to lower their heads.

"Hey dude, tone down your voice. You're gonna get us all killed if someone hears you."

So many murmurs.

Commoners. Nobles even spectators. Every single person there was whispering to each other in hushed voices even though it was obvious to everyone.

After all, Razeal Virelans was the most hated person in the entire empire and likely always would be.

So much so, in fact, that mothers would tell their children, "Sleep, or Disgusting Razeal will come get you."

He's dead. I'm pretty sure of it now. I mean, I don't know how he survived… Where did he even hide? No one found him in the past five years.

Where did he disappear to? And even if he did survive, he still had the audacity to come here?

No one was interested in how Razeal managed to enter the Academy Trials. But they should be. It's not easy to even get a chance to join this place the most prestigious academy in the world. You needed a special recommendation letter, an extraordinary achievement, or a direct invitation from the academy staff themselves.

It's that hard to get in here. The level of protection is insane. No one can just walk in not when the knowledge taught here could be dangerous in the hands of other empires.

The discussions and speculations were erupting with full passion between everyone. Finally, the bored audience had a topic that every single group was eager to argue about.

Meanwhile, Razeal just sighed. He shook his head but remained silent, even though he could hear every single word.

He didn't know actually no one did that these people, even while pretending to whisper and act discreet, were speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. It was as if they didn't give a damn anymore.

"Attention, please!!"

Finally, a strict and commanding voice echoed booming so loudly that it almost scratched at the ears. Mana particles, sound molecules, and even the air around them had been manipulated simultaneously to amplify it.

That voice shut every mouth noble, commoner, even the spectators seated high above. All attention turned toward the center of the arena.

A small white marble platform rose.

And standing atop it... was Headmistress Selvara.

Her presence alone stilled the storm of whispers. A figure carved in marble and willpower, she stood tall, the flowing silver of her uniform catching the light as though the sun itself dared not outshine her. The marble dais beneath her feet pulsed faintly with runes ancient, binding, and absolute.

She raised one hand. Silence fell as if the air itself had been commanded.

Then, her voice rang out not loud, but layered with authority that sank into skin and bone.

"Welcome."

Selvara continued, as if nothing had ever happened.

"You all stand here today as participants in the Academy Entrance Trial. You have been watched. Measured. Assessed. And now, you are here not by chance, but by consequence."

She completely ignored the incident that had unfolded moments ago, as though it held no relevance to her or the proceedings. Not a single word was spared for it. As if it simply didn't concern them.

And perhaps it was the weight of her authority or perhaps the sheer gravity of the moment that made the crowd fall silent. Even the fervent murmurs and whispered scandals surrounding Razeal faded into nothing.

Because right now, nothing mattered more than what she had to say.

Her gaze swept over the arena. Measured. Unflinching.

"I will not waste words explaining the obvious. This is the Gate of Trials. I expect everyone is well prepared and If you came unprepared… if you still don't know what awaits you behind those gates, then allow me to say this"

Her tone turned colder.

"you are unworthy."

A pause.

"But," she said, voice cutting clean, "if by some means, someone walks through the unknown and survives, if they conquer what they did not prepare for… then perhaps they are more worthy than any who studied it."

Murmurs rippled across the audience again but no one dared speak aloud.

Selvara extended a gloved hand toward the grand obsidian arch behind her. The Gate of Trials. Its surface shimmered like oil under sunlight, ancient inscriptions writhing faintly across the stone.

"To pass," she said, "you must gather one hundred elemental cores. That is the minimum. No less. Do that, and the gates of the Academy will open to you."

Her voice did not rise. It didn't need to.

"For those who desire more those seeking a higher standing, better dorms, stronger instructors, greater resources your rank will depend on how many cores you gather beyond that threshold."

She let that sink in.

"And for those who believe they belong in the Royal Classroom... the path is clear."

Her eyes gleamed, sharp as shattered glass.

"You will need one thousand cores."

A hush swept through the crowd like a breath held by the world itself.

Then her expression softened not in warmth, but in formality. The tone of a ruler acknowledging her court.

"And now, I would like to thank the distinguished figures who honor us with their presence today. The Roy.... (and it kept going)* Your presence dignifies this trial." Finally ending

No encouragement. No applause or comfort for trembling first-timers who were nervous almost scared to say the least.

She inclined her head slightly. It was not a bow. It was acknowledgment measured and regal.

"May the worthy rise. Let the Gate of Trials now open."

Everyone else was listening to the Headmistress with rapt attention, hanging onto every word with expressions ranging from awe to tension. Except certain someone.

One person stood still with no concentration, not out of reverence, but because he was too busy having a silent meltdown with the cursed entity shackled to his soul.

Mentally, Razeal was seething. No he was ranting (cursing).

"You sadistic, broken piece of cursed scrap-code…"

His lips didn't move, but his thoughts were venom.

"A long-ass tuxedo. In a combat trial. That's your idea of 'villain aesthetics'? You really think that makes me look like a proper villain?" Are you out of your mind?! Other villains get cheat skills, death beams, god-slaying swords hell, even plot armor. And you? You gave me fashion sense?! What you even do except giving useless order's anyways"

"Ever seen how useless no problematic you are."

A low sigh escaped his nose as he flicked his fingers subtly.

A dark, translucent screen appeared in the air before him cold, blackened glass with faint red glyphs pulsing at the edges.

" SYSTEM INTERFACE - STANDARDS OF A VILLAIN "

System Type: Cursed Binding (Irrevocable)

User: Razeal Virelan

Alignment: Rejected by Fate

Status: Alive (Unfortunately)

" Description ": You were never meant to be the hero. The world itself despises your existence. Light repels you. Fate resists you. And yet... you remain. You are the embodiment of what should not exist a thorn in the wheel of destiny. Rejected by the heavens, embraced by the shadows. The more the world hates you, the stronger you become. It won't stop hunting you until you die. And it will hate you.

Oh, it will never stop. Because your enemy Isn't a person. It's the world itself. Expect misfortune that borders on comedy slip on a banana peel and land in lava. Or a shark's mouth. Or both. Call it bad luck if you want.

But really… it's just the universe doing its job. Trying to erase you

" System Effects "

1. Rejection of Light (Passive Curse)

 – Cannot learn or wield any form of Light, Holy, or Pure-element skills or Even swordsmanship even any martial skills.

 – All beings light faction instinctively loathe your existence.

 – Absolute hostility from everyone.

2. Dark Resonance (Innate Affinity)

 – Absorbs and resonates with Dark, Cursed, or Forbidden energy.

 – Learns forbidden arts naturally.

 – Monsters and corrupted entities may see you as kin… or kneel or may just be enemy of you?.

3. Eternal Prideful (Passive)

 – You cannot swallow disrespect. Ever.

– Absolute Arogance

 – Must assert dominance when challenged.

 – Failure to do so will result in System-Enforced Punishment™. (Severity: Hell-tier)

4. Absolute Dark Genius

 – Your mastery over dark arts is second to none.

 – If you claim to be second-best, reality will glitch in protest.

 – Your comprehension speed with cursed, shadow, and forbidden magic is monstrous.

5. Absolute Love:

–Feelings persist indefinitely, unshaken by time or reason

– Boundless affection; immune to limits or restraint

– Deep attachment may evolve into fixation or obsession

This is fucking bullshit. None of these so-called "effects" deserve to be called buffs or even help. They're curses each and every one of them. Like some sick joke handed down by fate.

And if any of you think I'm being unreasonable, just wait. That "dark affinity" crap? The "dark faction" bullshit? It's all useless. Completely useless. Because this world hell, this entire universe is nothing but pure white faction. No dark magic, no shadows, no cursed spells. Nothing. The so-called "Chosen One" novel world? All light, all holy, all clean. Darkness? It's a myth here. A joke maybe in those places but he doesn't think there is anything available here and honest not Many chances.

In short, I got saddled with every disadvantage imaginable from having a system and the things supposed to compensate me? Worthless no curses.

[Host, why are you suddenly so whiny today? You haven't complained like this in years... Are you just nervous about unlocking a new skill and afraid you won't get to curse me anymore? Honestly, that's petty. Grow up, host.]

The system's words echoed in his mind, dripping with disgust as if it knew him too well like it could read his thoughts. Which, honestly, it couldn't. which it wished it could.

Razeal's cursing stopped midway. I just wish that function were truly usefull since you've been bragging about it for the last five years. The only reason he hadn't changed your voice into something disgusting like a romantic tone or even a cute little girl's voice or switched the interface background from this dark, eerie setting to a pinkish, baby-girl style, or maybe even a permanent rainbow flag, was that he kept holding back.

°_°

The system felt his code vibrate with the brutality of the cursed words being spoken.

---

...

"May the worthy rise. Let the Gate of Trials now open."

Her voice was calm, but it carried the weight of finality.

The massive gate standing at the center of the arena shuddered, then slowly creaked open. The sound echoed through the silent crowd, ancient and heavy, like the groan of something alive. But beyond the widening entrance… there was no clear path. No defined terrain. Just a swirling wall of mist, thick with mana and uncertainty.

You couldn't see what was on the other side. That was the point.

"Just don't get me dropped into the middle of ocean everything other is fine"

"Just give me a forest, please. Not lava. Not or desert."

"What if it teleport us straight into a monster's nest is that even legal"

The candidates were murmuring among themselves, some joking to hide the tension, others genuinely afraid. The gate didn't choose kindly. Since trial was random, brutal, and solitary.

There would be no second chances.

Without a word, Razeal stepped forward.

Some were nervous. Some were terrified. A few were far too excited for their own good. But all followed.

Just before stepping in, Razeal paused.

He could feel them sharp, pointed stares from high above. Not just from the audience around the arena, but from the elite viewing chambers. Watching him.

He didn't look up or flinch.

He simply walked through the gate, silent and composed before anything strange could happen.

The mist swallowed him whole.

As soon as Razeal stepped through the gate, the world shifted.

There was a sharp pull like space itself had been ripped apart and then, nothing. No ground or light. Just an instant of freefall into a black void.

Then impact.

Solid ground met his back like a hammer. Cold. Cracked. Stone. He rolled, coughing dust, ribs protesting. A short, sharp exhale slipped out through clenched teeth as he pushed himself to his elbows.

Every breath pulled stone particles into his lungs. The air itself felt broken. Grit floated in it like powdered glass. It clung to skin, burned in the throat.

Everything around him was rock. The floor, the horizon, even the air tasted like a quarry left to rot. Stone crust. Ancient. Cracked.

"…Ahhh, my ass," he muttered. Not even pain. Just irritation. A low heat spreading from the base of his spine to the back of his skull. Not bad enough to stop him just enough to make him want to break something.

He sat up, gritting his teeth, brushing dust from his clothes with short, pissed-off swipes.

Where the fuck am I.

He stood. Stiff. Checked himself over. Nothing broken. No blood. Just sore.

Then he looked around.

And stopped moving.

Statues. Enormous ones. Towering over everything. Dozens maybe hundreds. Some upright, others collapsed and shattered like old bones. Dust blanketed every surface. Debris piled in corners, between broken wings and twisted spines.

Dragons.

These were carved in brutal detail. Scales. Claws. Jaws stretched open like they'd been mid-roar for centuries. Some missing heads. Others fused to the ground. Wings like collapsed monuments.

Each one was different. Each one was as if they were real dragons turned into stones literally.

The whole place was stone. Big stone. Cracked stone. Shattered legends turned to rubble.

Razeal just stared for a second. Eyes narrowing.

"I am so fucked."

No. No, no, no.

"I know the world hates me," he said, under his breath. "But this…"

His voice caught. Not exactly fear but with Rage mix.

He turned, scanning again. There was no mistaking it.

He clenched his jaw.

"Of course."

He recognized it.

The Graveyard of Forgotten Stone.

He took a slow breath and dragged a hand down his face. He knew exactly what this place was. Third arc. Deep endgame zone. Supposed to show up way later. Not now. And definitely not for him.

"This is protagonist shit," he muttered. "That dumbass with the sword supposed to find this place two years from now."

Everyone who read the novel knew this place and how important it is. one will read about it halfway through the third arc. Deep lore shit. This is where the Protagonist finds the remnants. The truth. The call to rise. and one of the strongest cheat ability for himself.

This place was not supposed to exist for him.

This was not his destination.

"This is a joke," he said flatly. "It has to be."

[Host, you are so fucked. Why is your luck always this shitty.] The System didn't waste a second. Of course it didn't.

Razeal closed his eyes. Just for a beat. Not to breathe. Just to contain the immediate desire to punch himself in the throat so he didn't have to hear it anymore.

His voice came out dry. Bitter. "Isn't it all thanks to you?" He started walking again, brushing off stone flakes still clinging to his sleeves. "Carrying shit around long enough, you start smelling like it."

[You're welcome.]

"Shut up," he said. No pause. No emotion. Just done. His boots echoed through the graveyard as he moved faster. "Where's the new function? Be fast."

He didn't even want to say "please." Didn't care what sequence it needed. He wasn't here to play by script.

The trial window was eight hours.

He'd already burned what five minutes?

And standing around arguing with a voice in his skull wasn't part of the plan.

But of course, the System went quiet. No reply. Just dead air and dust. Just as Razeal thought he was scammer

Then.

DING!!

The notification didn't sound. It hit. Right between his eyes.

Congratulations. Starting quest completed: ENTER GATE OF WORTH.

Main System Function Unlocked:

🜇 VALLEY OF VILLEY

Razeal stopped walking. His hand dropped to his side.

"…Valley of what now?"

He blinked at the message, then again, slower. The light of the system interface faded, but the words stayed. Burned into his skull like branded iron.

"Valley of Villey," he repeated, low. Like tasting something rotten. "That supposed to mean something, or did you just roll a name out of a trash bin?"

The system dropped the full description in front of him like it was proud.

Function: Valley of Villey – ACTIVATED

This function will assist in completing the main directive: Make Host into the best and perfect villain across all realities.

To teach you, the system has summoned villains from every known dimension Murim, Cultivation, Supernatural, Urban, Martial Arts, Mecha, Mythology and beyond.

---

...

Function: Valley of Villey – ACTIVATED

This function will assist in completing the main directive: Make Host into the best and perfect villain across all realities.

To teach you, the system has summoned villains from every known dimension Murim, Cultivation, Supernatural, Urban, Martial Arts, Mecha, Mythology and beyond.

All aspects strength, intelligence, cruelty, tactics, vision will be covered.

Villains are ranked from F to SSS, and rare EX-rank existences may appear.

Location: SYSTEM SPACE

Special Conditions:

– Infinite Mana

– Infinite Revives

– Double speed compared to the outside world.

Hidden functions are present. Host must discover them personally.

Razeal read it all once.

No emotion. No awe. No sarcastic reaction apeared on his face as if he was in Deep contemplation.

Just data.

His jaw shifted slightly.

"So this is what the system thinks I need."

Not a weapon.

Not a bloodline.

Not some divine power-up dropped from the sky with sparkles and horns.

Lessons.

He clicked his tongue.

And here I thought it'd be some cheat ability.

Even after reading thousands of system novels, apparently, there were still surprises left.

After all the systems, novels, dungeon cores and skill trees he'd consumed like junk food over the years, he figured he'd seen every kind of twist. But this?

This was weird.

Weird enough to be interesting.

And maybe weird was what he needed.

He didn't say anything else. Didn't need to. He tapped the open command, and the system expanded quietly, efficiently.

A long list unfolded like a scroll peeling back the universe.

Villain Archive: Valley of Villey

[F]

[D]

[C]

[B]

[A]

[S]

[SSS] ???

[EX] — (10)

Ranks. Neat, organized. Clean gradient from bottom to top.

But something stuck.

Every other tier F through SSS had a "???" behind it.

Uncountable.

Only the EX rank had a number.

(10)

Glowing in a dark, violet-purple. The kind of color that didn't show up unless someone wanted it to mean danger.

Razeal stared at it.

Ten.

Only ten made it to that tier.

Not per world. Not per era.

Across all realities.

Razeal blinked once.

"…This is just some crazy shit."

From the start of time to wherever the hell this system scraped its data, only ten had climbed high enough to qualify as something beyond system logic.

And every tier just one step below?Uncountable. Literally unmeasurable.

Too many to list. Endless, basically.

He squinted.

"…That's a hell of a gap."

The thought crawled in:

How wide is the difference between EX and SSS?

If uncountable monsters didn't make that jump, how far out were those ten?

How did they think?

What did they do?

How much did they break?

He didn't feel fear.

He felt curious.

"If they're really that strong… I can definitely learn something cool, right? Because if these were villains the best of the worst then they had to be insanely strong right?."

He got excited just for a second.

Unlimited mana. Unlimited revives. No penalty for dying.

If he could spar with those ten, learn from them, survive them...

He'd come out a beast. A goddamn apocalypse in a coat.

The system cut in before his mind went too far.

[Don't dream too fast, Host. I have the right to summon them.]

[But whether they teach you or kill you over and over again or even acknowledge you depends on them. These are not puppets. They have their own consciousness, will, and rules.]

Razeal blinked.

"…Ehhhhhh?" What the fuck"

His eyebrows twitched.

"What do you mean they're not here to teach? I thought this was like… select enemy → see skill list → tap yes."

Instead, he had to convince these freaks?

"They're fucking villains. They're supposed to monologue, threaten me, then show off their ultimate technique before I die. That's their thing."

But even he wasn't dumb enough to ignore the problem.

Villains weren't kind.

They weren't wise mentors waiting to share secrets.

They were violent, erratic, power-obsessed psychos.

Convincing them to train him?

How the hell was he supposed to do that?

Bribe them? Threaten them? Out-insane them?

That was a nightmare in the making.

It changed everything.

Not just fight to learn. First, survive the encounter. Then convince the thing across from you that you're worth talking to.

Its like the idea of asking one of them for help felt like punching a dragon in the teeth and asking it to teach you how to fly.

It made things 10,000× more difficult.

Because now?

No hand-holding.

No tutorials and worst part

It wasn't about training.

It wasn't about skills.

It wasn't about tapping "yes" on a menu and getting your free upgrade.

It was about surviving the ego of someone who had already killed a hundred stories just by existing or Maybe more.

Now he'd have to earn something from people who didn't value life, who probably didn't even believe in teaching and well are dead and haven't seen a human in don't know how many years.

He sighed.

Just the most dangerous minds to ever exist, and him still barely scratching the bottom of the power scale.

Not dramatic. Not defeated.

Just done.

Then he shrugged.

"Whatever. Let's try it."

System. I choose EX rank.

Greed. No shame.

He shrugged like he was ordering the most expensive item on a menu he wasn't paying for.

He wasn't even strong enough to scratch the lower ranks yet but who cared?

What were they gonna do? Kill him? He'd just respawn.

Because if the rules said infinite mana, infinite revives, and no real-world consequences… then why the hell wouldn't he go for the best first?

And if it came to it even if some EX freak tried to break his mind or erase his will he'd just spam revives until their ego cracked.

Until their script collapsed.

Infinite retries turned even gods into victims.

Like that red-caped bastard with a green grape in one hand.

Loop. Reset. Abuse.

"Yeah. I can do that."

The screen lit up.

[Accessing EX-Rank Archive…]

[Warning: Instability risk. Proceed?]

[All actions within this space are irreversible. Mental trauma may persist beyond revives.]

[Do you wish to proceed?]

...

Razeal tapped 'Yes'.

A breath caught in his throat. Excitement flared hot in his chest, like adrenaline spiking too fast. He was ready. Or he thought he was.

he'd get to meet the Ex-Rank boss villain only ten in all realities.

What would he look like? A beast cloaked in hellfire? A cold, godlike figure radiating death?

His heart thundered.

Then came the pull. Black space folded around his concious like a vacuum. His consciousness stretched no, yanked somewhere deep and directionless. A moment of weightlessness, a sense of falling without air.

Then release.

His breath snapped back in his lungs.

Eyes opened.

"...Huh?"

He was...

Back? Huh?

Razeal blinked. Once. Twice. The stone courtyard, the ancient sculptures, the oddly serene atmosphere around him all of it looked exactly the same. Nothing had changed. Not a single grain of dust had shifted. He turned his head, scanning the surroundings again.

Weren't... weren't things supposed to be different? Hadn't he just agreed to transfer into the System Space?

His thoughts stuttered.

"Didn't I... just click Yes?"

His eyes flicked toward the System Screen hovering a few inches from his face.

There it was again. Same interface. Same flickering tab.

[Enter EX-Rank System Space?]

Yes / No

His throat went dry. "Ehhh?? Didn't I just click Yes? What the hell happened?"

Was this a glitch? Was the system lagging out? That wasn't supposed to happen. The System was supposed to be absolute. Infinitely reliable.

He stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

"System. Did you finally lose it? Did you start glitching or something?"

[Umm noooo, Host. So I guess you didn't even feel it, huh? You did enter the System Space of EX-Rank Villain Valley... but you were killed. Matter of fact, you've died 521 times. So I pulled you back to not waste your time.]

Silence.

Razeal's face was frozen. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His eyes twitched.

"W—What?"

He Blinked.

"Died?! 521 times?! How the HELL? It's not even been a second! That doesn't even make any sense!"

[Well... 21 milliseconds passed outside. Inside System Space, 42 milliseconds. Time runs double speed there.]

[But yes, you died 521 times. And were revived 521 times.]

The words felt like lead dropping into his brain.

"No no no no no hold the hell on," Razeal muttered, waving both hands in disbelief. "Even if it's 42 seconds… that's like… what, getting killed once every 0.08 seconds?! That's not even enough time to MOVE. Or THINK. Or or even blink! How can someone get killed that many times in a row?!"

He started pacing. Mind racing. Limbs twitching like they were trying to escape the horror on their own.

"So what, the moment I entered that place I just boom dead? On loop? What kind of monster is that EX-Rank Villain?! Is he some mass killer? I didn't even see him! Didn't feel pain! Nothing! Did he attack me the moment I arrived?! How?! HOW?!"

[Umm. No. No no no, Host. You've got it all wrong.]

[It's not the EX-Rank Villain who killed you. He didn't attack. Matter of fact He didn't even notice you were there. He wasn't even looking in your direction. You were just... crushed. By the aura. Or more accurately, the sheer pressure of the space shaped by his existence. His intent. His... presence.]

Razeal stopped breathing for a moment.

He felt a chill crawl up his spine, colder than any winter he'd ever known. A slow, sinking dread that made his stomach hollow out but the sheer Bullshit of Logic.

"Wha... what do you mean 'crushed'?"

[Let me try to explain in a way that even your empty garbage bin of a head can understand.]

[Imagine the System Space like... the core of a star. No, wait. That's still too complex for your micro-noggin. Let's say... imagine you're suddenly teleported millions of miles down into the ocean, where pressure is so absolute it can crush reinforced Holy Armors like Pinching an ant. Now imagine that, but worse. That's what walking into that Villain's System Space was like.]

Razeal's Mouth agape.

"...I died. Not because someone killed me. But because I existed somewhere I shouldn't have."

His voice was hollow. Ashen.

"I wasn't even worth noticing... I died like a bug... and he didn't even swat me."

For a long moment, Razeal didn't move. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it was trying to climb up his throat.

He replayed it in his head or tried to. But there was nothing to remember. Just a blur. An empty second. A blank.

"I thought I'd make an entrance. Thought I'd piss him off by respawning repeatedly. Y'know, be annoying, mess with him until he cracks... and make (convince in his language) him give some but he didn't even look at me?."

The realization burned. Sharp.

"I guess clicking Yes thinking I'd confront a monster atleast i can ask his name or atleast see the face atleast... but turns out I can't even breathe the same air."

He shook his head slowly, eyes glazed with shame.

"I really wanted to meet that person... didn't even say hello...Sighh"

"Are all EX-Rank Villains this... like, strong? That I can't even meet them? Or should I try another EX-ranked person?" he whispered.

[Yes and no... EX is a rank that cannot be judged by any tier or scale. Think of the ranking system like a glass S, SS, SSS. All of those fit inside the glass. The more power, the fuller the glass is with water. But EX? EX is when the water spills out of that glass entirely. It escapes the measurement itself.]

[Now, imagine that overflowed water. Whether it's a bucketful or maybe it's an ocean, there's no telling. It could be barely over, or vastly beyond. But the glass is no longer useful. Whether it's a bucket or an ocean, you can't measure either using the glass. That's what EX-Rank is. Some EXs may be overwhelmingly more powerful than others, but because they've all left the measurement system behind, there's no rank to sort them. They exist outside. And that's why even the weakest EX-Rank is still far beyond what your system can grasp.]

[So no, don't compare. Don't assume you'll find a 'weaker' one. You won't survive any of them... not yet.]

[All in all, take it this way: you're too weak to even stand in places like that. Whether it's the strongest EX or the weakest, they're all... beyond. So I'd recommend: don't touch this rank until you're strong enough.]

Razeal bit his lip hard. Knuckles clenched, eyes stinging. Deep within, it was hurting his ego being referred to, or taken as an example, as a bug. Being directly called insignificant... no one would like it. Even a normal person wouldn't, let alone someone like him, whose character was literally defined by eternal pride.

"So I'm just that weak..."

There was no comfort. No warm hand on his shoulder. Just cold silence and the dry whir of the hovering System Screen.

[Yes. But hey, bright side: you didn't feel anything. So, not too traumatic, right? Be happy you at least stood in that presence.]

He glared up. "System. Shut. The hell. Up."

[Noted.]

He sat down, stewing in humiliation. His thoughts swirled.

"If that was just aura... then what the hell happens when he does decide to attack? Or when he fights someone on his level? Does the entire dimension implode?"

"If he never noticed me, then I didn't even register as a threat. I wasn't even a blip. Not a presence. I was... less than background noise."

The System had known. It had expected this.

"You anticipated this... didn't you?"

[...Yes. But you needed to see it. Not just hear it. Experience it. At least know where you stand currently.]

Razeal didn't respond.

He just sat on the cracked stone ground in silence, feeling smaller than he ever had.

But somewhere, buried in the cold ashes of his ego, something flickered. A pulse. A twitch.

A spark.

Because if that was the bottom... then there was only one way left to go.

Up. One day, he will. He definitely will fight that thing and not only make it notice his presence, but defeat it.

"System. Open SSS-Rank Villain Space for me. Put choosing candidate as random."

Their presence won't kill me, right? he asked, just to avoid being embarrassed.

[Yes and no. Every SSS-Rank Villain is enough to kill you just by their presence but not like EX-Rank Villains, who do it unknowingly or permanently. Some use it all the time, and some just don't.]

"Hm."

"Alright. Use it."

[Would you like to enter SSS-Rank Villain Valley System Space?]

[Yes or No]

He was sitting down on the ground, crossing his legs obviously, only his consciousness goes into that System Space while his body remains as it is.

Well, some might wonder how can he just sit down in the open like this? Isn't he afraid that a monster or something could come? Isn't it unsafe to sit around in a place like this, where everything screams danger?

No. It is safe.

Because well, everyone knows about this place. Or at least, maybe only he knows the truth about it. The truth that this is actually the most dangerous and worst place in all of the Trial.

But to everyone else?

They think of it as useless. As if it has no value. No purpose.

Just trash.

The Graveyard of Forgotten Stone a place where there is nothing.

Nothing except stones. Broken, dusty, useless stones. Crumbled statues lying everywhere. No land, plants, vegetation or life.

Just statues. Dust. And silence.

Even monsters don't come here.

Since all candidates know there are no monsters, and nothing of interest, no one ever comes here.

And so it'll be just… empty. All in all.

And that's why he was calm.

"Do it," he said.

And the same exact feeling hit him. That disorienting pull, as his consciousness was taken away.

After a few seconds, he finally opened his eyes.

And as he did

He finally saw the different space.

---

...

[Welcome, Host, to the SSS-Rank Valley of Villey.]

[Villain Title: The Strongest Mother]

Razeal opened his eyes as the prompt echoed in his head.

His expression twitched.

"So the first villain's a woman, huh," he muttered to himself.

The name lingered in his thoughts like a puzzle.

The Strongest Mother?

He'd expected something more something terrifying or ominous maybe. The name felt... wrong. Not weak, but kinda misleading.

Strongest Mother? what does that even mean?

His mind raced. Maybe something twisted, like Mother of Curses? Or Mother of Darkness? He'd heard names like that in novels and movies. That would make more sense for someone SSS-Ranked Right?.

Whatever it was, it definitely is something of importance. One can know Many things about someone just with there tittles alone.

A cold current brushed across his face sharp and immediate making him come out of his thoughts. Wind was like winter's breath. It cut through him, reminding him that this space wasn't like the last.

He didn't move. He just breathed calmly.

Then, slowly, he looked around as to see his surroundings first before doing anything. He needs to be aware of everything.

The world around him was dark but not the kind of darkness that swallowed light.

This was the kind that reflected it.

The entire space shimmered with jagged formations crystalline and alien. Smooth and polished like black mirrors. They rose from the ground in elegant, chaotic sculptures. Some curved. Some twisted. Some branched out like coral. But these weren't coral. They were too perfect. Too symmetrical. They looked designed.

Those look almost like mirrors, he thought.

Each surface caught the pale glow of the moonlight above, casting long reflections that shifted as his gaze moved. It was as if the whole place was watching itself.

The moon itself hung impossibly high in a sky that wasn't really a sky pure black, flawless, still. Its light, cold and silver, poured down like silk. It didn't look real. It looked... placed. As if someone had carefully built this world and set that moon there just to complete the aesthetic.

It was haunting.

And beautiful.

Then he saw it.

His eyes were pulled toward the center of this frozen world like gravity itself had chosen his next focus.

A throne.

Dead center.

Elevated. Tall. Towering.

It was made of the same black material as the rest of the world but carved. Sculpted with precision and power. Its surface was edged like blades. Tall-backed. Grand. Veins of silver ran through it, tracing lines like frozen lightning.

Almost ten feet tall.

And on it

She sat.

A woman.

She didn't move. Her posture was perfect still as death.

But Razeal saw her.

And the first word in his mind wasn't fear.

It was stunning.

Her skin was a warm, rich brown, gleaming under the moonlight with a softness that felt alive in contrast to the cold void around her. Her hair, jet black, long, and flowing like ink, framed her face and shoulders without a strand out of place.

Her dress if it could even be called that matched the throne. Black. Form-fitting. Regal. It hugged her body before falling like mist, disappearing into the dark below her feet. One leg was crossed over the other, poised in a way that was too perfect to be casual.

Her eyes were closed. Her head tilted slightly back.

Like a queen resting.

Or a weapon sheathed.

Razeal stared.

There was no aura. No pressure.

Yet just looking at her made him feel smaller.

She looks like someone who never needed to say a word to command obedience, he thought. Someone who was born above you and expected you to understand that.

Her face her expressionvwas neutral. Cold. Like a mask carved from pride.

And yet

Why does she look familiar?

His throat tightened.

Doesn't... doesn't Mother look like this?

Not in features or physically. But in expression.

That same look.

Cold. Controlled. Above.

Expressionless but screaming, bow.

Razeal swallowed hard.

He didn't move.

"System," he said quietly, "she's not dead, right? Or is she sleeping or something? If I wake her... she's not gonna kill me, right?"

He was joking.

Kind of.

Not really.

His nerves were screaming in the background. His pride tried to stand tall but even it didn't dare raise its voice here.

Just knowing she was one of the strongest beings reality had ever produced made his blood run colder. And she was a villain, too. One who might have murdered thousands. Millions.

Or worse.

Who knows what kind of cruel, degenerate, twisted soul lived behind that perfect exterior?

[She is already dead, Host, as are all within System Space. From the moment every Villain dies, they come here. She is Eternal.]

Razeal stared, the words sinking into him like cold rain.

Eternal, huh?

He wasn't sure whether that made her more terrifying

He blinked.

"I see..."

He wanted to ask more. Do they go insane?Stuck in this space forever don't they lose themselves? Do they remember their crimes? Their deaths?

But now wasn't the time.

Now wasn't the place.

He forced the question down, stuffed it into some corner of his brain for later.

Because right now he stood in front of a literal monster.

The kind people whispered about and dared not name.

Villains were freaks, hungry for respect.

And he needed to get some skills and training from them.

So let's not be rude. Let's behave properly.

Because what if she refused to give him anything? What if she became directly hostile to him?

Or worse... what if she didn't even let him leave?

And more importantly, he needed to behave himself.

Of course, he couldn't forget the real reason he came here, right?

He needed to convince this villain to teach him some overpowered skills and powers... yeah.

Yeah... that was the plan.

Only... he didn't actually have a plan.

Great.

So first? Gauge her personality. Figure out how to approach her.

Problem was, looking around gave him absolutely nothing. No clues. No signs. Not even her Tittle told him anything useful.

The only move he had now was to act respectful. Really respectful. Because if there was one thing he'd learned from all the novels he read, it was this:

Villains were freaks hungry for respect. Feed their ego, stroke their pride, and they'd do stuff just because they could.

So yeah. That was it. Play it cool. Be polite. Don't screw this up.

Because if he came off as rude or stupid... what if she refused to train him? Or worse What if she became directly hostile to him?

Still, curiosity gnawed at him. He couldn't help but glance around the strange space again, fixated on the one thing that stood out.

The black crystals.

They stretched endlessly in every direction. Wherever his eyes wandered, there were no edges. No horizon. No sky. No floor. Just those dark, jagged formations massive, alien, silent. As far as he could see, it was all the same: a world of glass and silence and moonlight.

Though nervous, he looked around the space again no, not just nervous.

It was undying curiosity now.

What are these crystals?

How far do they go?

Are they everywhere?

The black crystal stretched endlessly in every direction.

Wherever his eyes wandered, he couldn't see any edges, any horizon, or even a single sign of anything else only those dark, jagged formations.

As far as he could see, it was all the same:

A world of glass.

A world of silence.

And moonlight.

Just as Razeal was looking around something shifted. A presence. Cold. Heavy. Icy fingers of pressure curled through the air. And then

A voice.

Low. Magnetic. Female. It didn't echo it vibrated, like it resonated through the bones of the room itself, pressing into his skin, crawling into his ears.

"So… I am not hallucinating, then?"

The voice wrapped around him, coiling like smoke and steel. "There's truly another presence in this cursed hell…"

Razeal stiffened instantly. His blood ran cold "Shit."

He spun his head toward the throne, panic shooting through his chest like a spear.

Did she wake up?

And then he froze.

She was already awake.

There she sat, barely moving, poised like a statue etched in darkness itself. Perched on the ancient throne of that dark shiny material, her back straight, legs crossed, hands delicately placed on the armrests as if carved there by fate itself. Her eyes were already on him.

And what eyes they were.

Endless black. No shine or light. Pupils so deep and dark they looked like gateways to another realm something wrong.

Her gaze wasn't aggressive. It was worse it was curious. Calculating. Dissecting him layer by layer. Like she was unweaving him with a glance.

She didn't blink.

Razeal's breath caught in his throat. The weight of her stare hit him like a tidal wave. His knees almost buckled. His mind throbbed under the sudden pressure, as if some invisible force was trying to crush his thoughts. His heartbeat turned erratic. Fast. Loud. It hammered against his ribs, like it wanted to break free from his chest and flee.

He wanted to look away. He couldn't.

It felt like looking into death itself.

No... worse than death.

It was the embodiment of something unmade Unknown. A force that had forgotten how to be human, if it ever was.

His mind screamed. His body stood paralyzed.

Then

Her expression shifted.

A small tilt of her head. Her dark brows arched ever so slightly. And then

A smile.

Barely there. Just the corner of her lips twitching upward. But it radiated danger. It wasn't warmth. It was the kind of smile a predator gave when the prey stumbled right into its lair. The kind of smile you'd see just before everything ended.

Razeal's heart stuttered. His mouth went dry. Every nerve in his body screamed run, but he couldn't move. He was trapped between awe and terror.

She spoke again this time, not whispering into the space, but directly into the room. Her voice still echoed in impossible ways. A velvet blade.

"Hmm… such fragile strength. Such weak mental walls… and yet"

Her gaze narrowed, smile sharpening.

"I cannot read his mind."

The air seemed to freeze.

She leaned forward slightly, her black hair flowing like liquid shadow down her shoulders, eyes narrowing with a newfound interest. Not anger. Curiosity. Like she was looking at a puzzle she couldn't immediately solve.

"Interesting…" she murmured.

Her words weren't aimed at him. It felt more like she was thinking aloud, but somehow louder than thought more real, more physical. Each syllable pressed into the stone walls like a chisel.

"This doesn't make sense. He's too fragile. His mental walls are Non existent. So how is his mind protected?"

She stood slowly, her movements fluid like a shadow sliding across a wall. Her gaze never left him.

"There must be someone behind this. Someone strong. Someone shielding him…?"

Her words trailed off into a murmur, but she didn't lower her voice. She didn't care if he heard. Her thoughts spilled into the room like storm clouds.

"Strange. Very strange…"

"But even if someone is shielding him… I could still kill him in an instant? If so then why would someone that strong send him here?."

She looked down at him again, that slight smirk still dancing on her lips.

"So Useless."

A pause.

"Yet here you are when all this place is surrounded by Obsidian Agony?."

Razeal clenched his fists, trying to ground himself. His legs were shaking. His thoughts were scattered. He didn't even know what he could say what he should say.

He wasn't supposed to be this weak.

Is this the power of an SSS Rank Villain?

His strength just taken away from him without even doing anything?

He looked at her, who was still leisurely sitting on the throne, now one hand holding her chin.

"System, what should I do? You never told me it'd be this brutally hard to even stand just from being gazed upon by her."

[It's normal, Host. Very normal. Strong people are like this just their presence alone can shake those far weaker than them, making them feel like giving up. It's not only her, is it? Haven't you felt feelings like these before? You shouldn't be surprised, right? Maybe it'll be a good experience again. Try to learn to hold yourself together. You can't embarrass yourself every time.] the System's voice echoed, reminding him of some deep memories.

At the System's reminder, Razeal suddenly remembered certain moments that made him clench his fists.

"Yes… but I thought those were just my emotions kicking in."

[Yes, they were too. Maybe you were just confused about it. But yes if you had learned to stay calm and composed under this kind of pressure, you might've been able to speak… or at least stand up for yourself.]

"Teach me how to look into her eyes… into those eyes without feeling this disgust."

He said it in his head, feeling utterly humiliated and deeply disgusted with himself.

[Your self, your body, and your mind your consciousness is trembling. And why? Because somewhere deep in your mind, you think you are lower than her... Just believe in yourself.]

"Believe in myself?"

He didn't understand. "Believe in what?"

[Just imagine that she is an ant and you can crush her. Just look down on her, and you will.]

"What bullshit…" Razeal wanted to curse. He had been listening to the System seriously… but now?

...

"Tch. This isn't fun," the woman muttered, shaking her head an amused scoff escaping her lips. She watched the boy struggle his legs trembling, his back hunched as if the weight of her mere gaze alone was too much for him to bear.

"Can't even stand straight just by being looked at, huh?" she muttered, disappointed.

With a sigh, she exhaled, letting go of the overwhelming aura she had been unconsciously exerting no actually not overwhelming but that near non-existent presence he chilling pressure that had filled the space like black fog dissipated. It was as if gravity itself had loosened its grip.

The space exhaled with her. And so did Razeal.

As if invisible chains were unshackled, Razeal suddenly felt the suffocating pressure lift.

A sudden rush of air filled his lungs. For a moment, he stumbled forward, knees buckling, the ghost of that suffocating pressure still clinging to his spine.

F-f-fuck… He could finally breathe.

"Fhewww..." he whispered aloud, hunched forward with one hand on his knee. He blinked several times, trying to shake off the lingering static in his brain. "Finally free. That... disgusting feeling is gone."

His muscles were still twitching, sweat dripping from his brow, but the fog in his mind was clearing. He grit his teeth, steadied his legs, and straightened his posture with visible effort.

But I have to learn to stay calm. Next time, I might die just of embarissement, he thought, his jaw tightening with frustration. He looked back at her slowly.

She was watching him. Eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed.

Disappointment was carved across her face like an old scar.

"So useless," she said flatly. "You don't even seem worthy enough for conversation. My boredom would be better relieved talking to Obsidian Agony or maybe just sleep."

The way she spoke name Obsidian Agony. As if the mere thought of that entity brought more pleasure than dealing with the boy in front of her.

She scoffed.

"To think I raised my hopes, even for a second," she added, quieter this time, speaking mostly to herself. "Another human... after trillions of years. And this is what greets me? Pathetic."

Then she sighed, long and slow, her voice drifting like smoke in the stale air. She had a habit clearly of speaking her thoughts aloud, whether anyone was listening or not.

'Obsidian Agony?' Razeal's thoughts stirred.

'What the hell is that? A pet? A creature? Definitely not human if she's referring to me as a "fellow human."' His gaze flicked toward the woman again.

'And… did she just say trillions of years old? What kind of monster even lives that long?'

He swallowed, quietly, and stayed silent.

Tho he remained silent. He'd heard everything. Absorbing the sting of every word. But his face didn't twist or anything. If anything, he stood straighter now. He'd heard worse. Been through worse.

His skin was thicker than the outer walls of the Empire.

'This is nothing,' he thought, not because it didn't hurt but because he had no choice. What could he even do here? Nothing. So, he simply… shrugged it off.

He didn't respond. He just watched her quietly.

She raised an eyebrow at his silence.

"Look, kid," she said at last, her voice soft but sharpened like glass, "I'll give you one question. One answer. Be honest, like a good boy your age should."

Then her eyes narrowed into slits.

"If you lie…" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You die."

A quiet beat.

She tilted her head slightly, curious. "Although... you don't seem afraid of death. That's strange."

Her gaze roamed his face, analyzing every microexpression, reading the subtle tension in his brows, the tightness in his jaw, the twitch in his eye.

"You were trembling earlier. Shaking because you couldn't handle just looking at me," she said bluntly, as if listing symptoms on a medical chart. "But that wasn't fear of death, was it? No. It was shame. Anger. Powerlessness."

She leaned forward again.

"I didn't feel that usual edge. That survival instinct. That terror. You're uncertain, sure, but you weren't afraid of dying. Not really."

Then, almost to herself: "Weird little creature."

She shifted straight, folding her other leg on other now.

Are all humans these days so obsessed with pride and dignity? Running after things they never had to begin with? Such illusions... it only shows how weak you are. A child ashamed of weakness is just a child who doesn't understand growth. She thought to herself.

Razeal's thoughts churned like a storm.

What a weird way of talking she has… did she just say "good boy"? Does she even know what that means nowadays?'His brow twitched.

What the hell am I thinking? Useless thoughts. I should focus on her question. She's serious… and if I mess up, I might really get turned to ash on the spot. That'd be a waste. The System would just send another poor bastard in my place.'

Before he could gather his thoughts, a familiar, overly dramatic mechanical voice rang inside his mind.

[Yes, host. You are extremely lucky. This villain is what I'd call the "calm and collected" type. I was personally hoping for you to get tortured on your first visit to the Valley of Villains so to experience, but alas... sigh.]

Razeal nearly choked.

Shut. The fuck. Up, he screamed in his head. Do something useful for once instead of giving me useless play-by-play commentary!

He took a breath.

He needed to choose his words carefully. He needed to answer in a way that wouldn't get him killed. And for once, he was actually trying to think... Why was he here? What was the real reason? He was just thinking until

before he could

His lips moved on their own.

He froze.

His voice betrayed him.

"I want you to make me into an ideal villain."

The air stilled. Even time seemed to pause for a heartbeat.

Silence.

Heavy, deafening, absolute.

Razeal's eyes widened.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! YOU DAMN SYSTEM...

'YOU DARE...' His mind screamed in betrayal, the realization hitting hard and fast. His body was still his but the words weren't. That wasn't him talking.

And yet, it was.

The woman stared at him.

Blankly.

Expression unreadable.

And then

Pffft.

A faint chuckle escaped her lips. Dry. Icy. Almost amused… but not quite.

"An ideal villain? What even is that supposed to be?"

She slapped a hand over her face, as if even she couldn't contain herself from laughing. And when she did laugh, the world itself seemed to pause falling into an eerie silence, as though existence dared not interrupt such a rare, human moment from her.

Her expression said it all. She wasn't faking it.

She truly found it hilarious.

"What a weirdo... If I were his mother, I'd be utterly embarrassed," she thought to herself, the laughter still spilling uncontrollably from her lips.

She had encountered every kind of lunatic before those who straight-up declared they wanted to be murderers, maniacs obsessed with torture, zealots demanding strength so they could carry out vile acts in the name of power. But this?

This... was new.

Meanwhile, Razeal stood frozen. A breeze brushed past his face, but it felt like a gust trying to carry his humiliated soul away through any possible opening it could find.

'That was soooo cringeyyyyy…' he screamed inside his head, each syllable dragging him closer to the grave. 'Why is this happening? This is torture pure torture!'

Yet on the surface, his face didn't move a muscle. A perfect poker face. A flawless mask of stoic pride.

Finally, after gods-knew-how-long, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and sighed, laughter dying in her throat. "Ahem... hmmm... good. Very good." The words barely escaped her mouth more amused than she'd been in ages.

'Guess I've been alone for too long… Laughing at this kind of nonsense? Really?' she mused to herself, shaking her head with a slight smile.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on the armrest of her throne.

"I didn't quite catch that. Repeat yourself, kid," she said, her eyes glittering with playful curiosity. She was clearly enjoying this... and craving just a little more.

But this time, Razeal didn't hesitate not even as his cursed system stayed quiet for once.

He clenched his fists, drew a deep breath, and locked eyes with her.

"I want you to make me strong… Teach me." His voice was calm, his gaze unshaken.

'Fuck it. If I die, I die. This is already embarrassing enough let's not drag it out.'

She blinked. Her brief amusement evaporated like mist.

"Teach you? Make you strong?" she muttered, slumping back on her throne as disappointment flooded her face. Her tone dropped cold and flat.

"Again with those boring things…"

Her eyes slowly slid toward him, bored and already disinterested.

"Do you even know who you're talking to, kid?" she asked, not because she wanted an answer, but because she expected him to do the usual: grovel, beg, praise her name like she was some divine entity.

The same overused crap. 'You're the greatest. The strongest. Unrivaled, unmatched. Blah blah blah…' She couldn't even count how many times she'd heard that garbage when she was alive.

But Razeal… just stood there. Silent.

'System, what's her deal? I need her name, titles, anything I should know. Hurry up!' he shouted in his mind, panic creeping in.

[I have none, Host. Only title known is the one I gave you and you already know it.]

'Seriously?! That's it?! That's all?!'

He swallowed hard. The silence thickened. Slowly, uncertainly, Razeal lifted his gaze to her.

'Will she get mad if I admit I don't know who she is?'

It didn't feel like a safe option. Not at all.

'Sure, her title Strongest Mother sounds kind, maybe even gentle but come on. She's a villain. If she wanted, she could vaporize me for breathing wrong…'

'Think, damn it. How do I dodge this?'

She sat there, legs crossed, elbow propped up, looking every bit like a queen toying with a court jester. Her question hadn't even been real. She asked just to remind him of his place.

Who wouldn't know her?

But when she caught the uncertainty on his face the hesitation her amusement vanished.

Her eyes sharpened into narrow slits.

"You… don't know me?" she whispered, voice slowly rising.

"Me? MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?"

Her voice thundered, and the chamber itself trembled with her fury.

"And you have the AUDACITY to come here and ask me to TEACH YOU? HUUUUUUUUH??!"

Razeal blinked.

DING!

[Host, you have died.]

---