I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 2: About To Die?

The robotic, smug voice echoed unbidden in Razeal's mind, deep and irritating. He rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a wry, bitter smile.

"Since when are there four Duke families, you fool?" he whispered to himself. "You only counted three. And I hold no grudge against the Faereliths. At least, not that I recall."

[The entire world despises you regardless] the system shot back without pause. [Even if you avoid their enmity now, they'll turn against you soon enough—it's your destiny.]

Razeal saw no point in answering. It was futile. That voice had haunted his thoughts for six years, persistent, mocking, and spot-on every time. Debating it only darkened his spirits further, and the day weighed heavy on him already.

Six years.

That's when everything began.

He had gained his system at the age of ten. A event meant to transform his life for the better.

But let's go back a bit.

This realm wasn't ordinary. It was a story. A book, in fact. A world from his previous existence that he had once devoured. The name? The Chosen One.

An epic saga filled with valiant fighters, forgotten spells, holy lineages, and naturally, the radiant hero fated to rescue everyone.

And in a twist of cruel fate?

He wasn't the protagonist.

Instead, Razeal had reincarnated as the antagonist. The endgame foe. The "supreme menace" slain to propel the hero's final ascension. Not some minor baddie, mind you. He hailed from nobility, bore lofty ranks, and carried a heritage drenched in might.

After all, heroes might start as nobodies, but villains always emerge from opulent origins.

His original name was Razeal Virelan, the Duke's second son and successor to the Mindveil heritage. A youth gifted with the arts of deception and blade—a rare fusion envied by many.

Yet that identity was ripped away.

Seized, condemned, and banished.

At eleven, he was hurled from his family like an indelible disgrace. His own mother watched impassively as the doors slammed shut behind him, without a trace of remorse in her gaze.

He had once clung to every detail of those events—each misstep, each foolish trust. But gradually, the recollections faded into haze. Not from lessened pain, but from lost relevance.

No use gripping memories that no longer signify anything.

[Host.]

"I see it," Razeal breathed out, spotting the faint shift in the corner—a knight edging closer. Just a minor adjustment in posture, yet glaringly obvious to someone of his caliber.

I wish you weren't so worthless, system, he grumbled inwardly. You're nothing like the helpful systems in the stories I know. So far, you've only handed me setbacks. Yet you still act like I must live up to your standards and commands.

It's all the system's fault. Without it, would I have spent the past five years in hiding? Constantly fleeing. Always teetering on the brink of doom. All that torment and hardship...

Then he halted, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Have I been griping more lately?

Perhaps because human conversation had eluded him for five years. Chatting with himself had turned into a routine he never sought.

The system fell quiet, offering no retort.

And now, he had no option left. He would reveal himself. Suppose he avoided a direct assault, but things never worked that smoothly. If they did, why come here? He arrived full of certainty that safety awaited him.

Besides, he tired of concealment. For countless motives. Including some he dared not voice. What if thoughts could be probed? Anyway, this step was inevitable. He needed to join the schemes...

"This is your final chance, system. If you let me down now, you'll join my list of foes from here on. Better not deceive me," he declared, his expression turning icy as he raised his hands, shedding the hood that veiled him and unleashing his deep royal purple locks into the breeze, his features exposed for all to witness.

[Thanks] The system's subdued tone reverberated in his skull, which Razeal dismissed without a second thought, for whatever reason.

And right then, the knight watching him froze, staring in silence, his gaze sharpening...

That hair shade... he's a Virelan. From the main lineage, no less.

He pieced it together solely from the visuals and build. Royal blue tones signal pure descent. And that subtle purple mark at the nape...

Only two qualify as direct heirs. Not the daughter. So, is he the Duke Virelan's banished boy? He's survived?

In mere moments, he unraveled nearly the full truth—befitting a knight of his stature...

Hold on, that's not for me to delve into.

Still, his gut urged him to dispatch a quiet alert, a quick glance toward a distant sentry. The intent rang clear: stay on guard.

The sequence played out in under ten seconds.

Razeal never spared the knight a look. His stare remained locked, unwavering, on the void ahead, as though awaiting the unavoidable.

One... two... five... seven... nine.

At least a Grandmaster, right? he mused, tallying the beats. Undeniable.

A gentle wind stirred his tresses, a feeling absent for what felt like forever.

Suddenly, a ray of golden light burst from an elevated balcony. Slicing the sky like a godly bolt, a warrior in radiant golden plate charged at impossible velocity. The fighter's blade, pulsing with overwhelming force, arced fatally toward Razeal's throat.

"For your sacrilege and wicked deeds, meet your doom."

Yet Razeal stood motionless. A subtle grin crept across his face, one he'd been nurturing well before this strike.

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