I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 358: Walls

"I fucking hate you."

The words tore out of Razeal’s throat like something ripped loose rather than spoken. His voice cracked immediately, but he didn’t stop. He leaned closer, hovering inches from her face, his shadow swallowing her as his eyes burned with something feral and unrestrained.

"I hate you people," he snarled, breath ragged, "to the end of the world. And I don’t feel pity. I don’t feel guilt. I don’t feel anything doing this."

His hand clenched, knuckles white.

"Because I don’t care," he continued hoarsely. "Because why the fuck should I?" A bitter laugh tore out of him, sharp and ugly. "Just popping out a kid doesn’t make you my mother."

His chest heaved as he dragged in air, the words tumbling over one another now, uncontrolled.

"You know what?" he spat. "If you really were my mother if you ever actually were you would’ve known. You would’ve understood. And you wouldn’t have done what you did."

His voice rose again, nearly breaking. "I’m sick of you. I’m sick of all of you. I’m fucking done."

The pressure in the water around them trembled as his emotions surged..

"I don’t even want to kill you," he went on, his voice dropping suddenly into something darker, more venomous. "Even killing you feels disgusting to me."

His lips curled in contempt.

"Torture? Humiliation?" He shook his head sharply. "I don’t care. I don’t even want to waste a fraction of a second of my life on you. I don’t want to see your face. I don’t want to hear your voice. That’s how much I hate you."

His breathing was uneven now, almost choking him as the words kept coming.

"I’m not just angry," he hissed. "I’m disgusted."

He pointed at her again, his finger trembling violently.

"You’re a fucking hypocrite."

The accusation landed like a blade.

"Punish me? Judge me?" he shouted. "Who the fuck gave you that right?" His voice echoed harshly through the water. "Even if I made mistakes.. who are you to decide what I deserve or not?"

His laughter came again, hollow and sharp. "And then even after doing everything everything.. you have the nerve to come back and announce yourself as my mother?"

"What mother?" he demanded. "You’re no mother of mine."

The words came faster now, angrier, fueled by years of silence breaking apart all at once.

"I married," he snapped. "That was my choice. My life. Who gave you the right to come talk to my wife?" His voice shook with barely contained rage. "To tell her what’s right and what’s wrong? Know the truth or not?"

He leaned even closer, almost screaming into her face now.

"Who the fuck gave you the right?" he roared. "Who the fuck are you to interfere in my life?"

His eyes burned as he continued relentlessly.

"Today you remember you’re my mother?" he sneered. "What about then?"

His voice cracked hard on the next words.

"What about that time?"

His breath hitched violently.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "Who was standing back and letting everything happen?"

His hand slammed downward in emphasis, the water shuddering.

"You didn’t say a word," he yelled. "You didn’t stop anything. You even said you weren’t my mother anymore. You kicked me out of the family. Said my punishment was on them. Even letting them decide?"

"So what now?" he screamed. "Who the fuck are you to interfere now.. when you were the first one to say you weren’t?"

He leaned in so close their foreheads nearly touched, voice shredding itself apart.

"Open your fucking mouth," he shouted. "Answer me."

His fingers clenched in the fabric at her collar as he hovered inches from her, screaming down at her face, the sound raw enough to hurt his own throat.

"Tell me," he roared. "Who gave you the fucking gall?"

His voice finally gave out.

He coughed violently, chest convulsing as the words died in his throat, breath rasping painfully. He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until the shaking turned into full-body tremors.

He hadn’t planned to say any of it.

Hadn’t even been fully aware of what he was saying as it poured out of him.. years of resentment, pain, humiliation, rage, all ripped loose at once. Vampire emotions amplified everything, magnifying everything until it drowned restraint completely.

Merisa said nothing.

She simply looked at him.

She did not interrupt. Did not defend herself. Did not argue.

She let him speak.

Her face remained still, unreadable, even as his words tore into her. Inside her, emotions surged violently.. anger, grief, guilt, heartbreak amplified unnaturally by her new vampiric nature. It took everything she had not to let them surface. She held them down, locked behind discipline forged over a lifetime.

She just watched him scream.

Watched him break.

And for the first time she truly saw the damage.

From the side, Sofia moved instinctively, her heart tightening painfully at the sound of his voice at the raw agony buried beneath the rage.

"Razeal..." she started, floating forward.

Maria caught her arm.

Sofia turned, startled.

Maria shook her head slowly.

"Let him," she said quietly.

There was sadness in her eyes. Deep, heavy sadness.

"He needs this."

Sofia hesitated, then looked back at Razeal. Her chest ached as she watched him unravel, watched pain spill out in words he had never been allowed to say.

She stayed where she was.

And Razeal kept screaming.

For minutes.

Then longer.

Time blurred.

He yelled until his voice broke, until his throat burned, until words dissolved into hoarse accusations and shattered breaths. He unloaded everything.. every memory, every resentment, every wound he had buried because survival demanded silence.

He gave it all to the one person he hated most.

Thirty minutes passed just like that.

While all this time, no one spoke.

No one interrupted him. No one tried to stop him. No one stepped forward or looked away entirely. They simply stood there, suspended in the heavy stillness of the sea, letting Razeal continue as if instinctively understanding that this was not something that could be interrupted without causing more damage.

His voice had changed long before the words ran out.

What had started as rage slowly peeled back into something far uglier.. something naked. Beneath the shouting and curses, the pain had been obvious. It was there in the way his voice cracked unexpectedly, in the moments where his breath hitched mid-sentence, in the way his accusations sometimes dissolved into incoherent fragments before hardening again. Anyone listening could hear it. The sadness was not hidden. It was embedded in every word he threw at her.

Merisa looked up at him in silence.

She didn’t avert her gaze. She didn’t flinch. She watched his face change again and again.. anger collapsing into bitterness, bitterness cracking into grief, grief snapping back into fury when he could no longer bear it. Every emotion crossed his expression openly now, unguarded, impossible to miss.

She felt it.

Not just heard it.

The pain in his voice reached her in a way that no accusation ever had. Each word landed, heavy and sharp, cutting deeper not because it was cruel.. but because it was honest. She could see the suffering etched into his features, the years of resentment carved into the tightness of his jaw, the exhaustion in his eyes that no amount of power could erase.

Everyone else stood frozen.

Sofia watched the scene with a hardened expression, her fists clenched at her sides. She had known Razeal was distant. She had known he carried anger. But this.. this depth of pain was something she had never imagined. Hearing it now, laid bare without restraint, made her chest ache in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

So much, she thought quietly. He must’ve went through so much...

It wasn’t just anger. It was grief that had never been acknowledged. Hurt that had never been given space. A child forced to carry adult consequences without the emotional tools to survive them.

Maria’s reaction was quieter.

She felt the sting behind her eyes before she even realized what was happening. Tears welled suddenly, uninvited, blurring her vision for the briefest moment. She turned her face away instantly, wiping them away with practiced efficiency before anyone could notice. It didn’t even take a second. When she turned back, her expression was cold again.. controlled, unreadable.

As if nothing had happened.

No one would have guessed what had passed through her in that instant. The tightening in her chest. The sudden weight pressing down on her heart. She said nothing, only watched Razeal closely, her gaze sharper now, more intent.

Inside Razeal’s mind, Villey finally spoke.

[Host...] The voice was quieter than before. Less mocking. Almost careful. [That’s enough. Calm down.]

A pause.

[...Sigh.]

It wasn’t dismissal. It wasn’t command. It was acknowledgment. Villey understood.. perhaps better than anyone that if this continued much longer, the damage would turn inward. Even releasing pain had limits.

Razeal froze.

The sound of the system’s voice cut through the haze like cold water to the face. He blinked, suddenly aware of his own body again.. of his breathing, of the tremor running through his arms.

And then he noticed his hands.

He was gripping Merisa by the collar.

The realization hit him hard.

His fingers tightened reflexively for a split second before trembling violently, as if his body finally registered what his mind had been too consumed to process. He stared at his own hands in disbelief, then slowly lifted his gaze back to her face.

I... I said all of that?

The anger that had been directed outward turned sharply inward.

Disgust curled in his stomach.. not at her, but at himself. He had done exactly what he hated most. He had lost control. He had exposed himself. He had said things he had never allowed himself to say aloud not even in his own thoughts.

His face twisted into a deep frown, expression turning ugly with self-loathing. His grip loosened, fingers shaking uncontrollably as he stared at her, realization sinking in.

I showed my emotions to other? Pathetic

Merisa’s face was wet with tears.

They slid down her cheeks silently, unrestrained, disappearing into the water around them. She didn’t try to stop them. She didn’t wipe them away. She simply let them fall as she looked at him.

At first, when he had started screaming, she had felt anger.

Then disappointment.

But as the minutes dragged on.. ten, twenty, thirty and he kept going, alone, uninterrupted, something else had crept in and swallowed everything else whole.

Sadness.

A deep, aching sadness that settled into her chest and refused to leave.

He had gone on for so long. Too long for this to be mere anger. Too long for it to be an act. He had emptied himself in front of her, piece by piece, without restraint, without defense.

How long, she wondered, has he been carrying all of this alone?

She couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t fathom how he had lived with all of that inside him, alone, for years. Her chest ached as she looked at him, not as a powerhouse, not as the head of a great family.. but as a mother finally seeing her child clearly.

He was just a kid.

That thought struck her harder than anything he had said.

A sixteen years old kid.

A child who had grown up knowing he was weak. Knowing he lacked talent, would always be powerless.. Knowing he would never be enough in a world that valued strength above all else. A child who had lived under expectations he could never meet, watched from the sidelines, measured against standards he was never given the tools to reach.

She had spent so long focusing on the act.. on what he had done, on how it reflected on the family, on the implications, the consequences, the punishment required.

She had thought about his actions endlessly. His choices, his mindset, his motivations, his moral failures which led him to make such a disision to do this.

But

She had never truly stopped to ask herself what he might had been feeling.

What had he felt in that moment?

When that happened?

Resentment toward the friend who had spoken out? Betrayal toward the mother who didn’t believe him? Fear? Confusion? Desperation?

She remembered now.. remembered vividly her own anger that day. Her fury. Her disappointment, blazing and righteous. She remembered how she had looked at him, not as her son, but as something bad, something shameful.

She remembered the punishment.

Public? Brutal? Thousands of eyes watching as his own sister struck him, again and again, with a whip meant to tear flesh. He had been ten. Maybe eleven. A child forced to endure pain and humiliation under the weight of judgmental stares, whispered curses, and open hatred. People shouting his name like it was filth. Looking at him with disgust, with contempt.

Even grown men broke under less.

And she hadn’t stopped it.

She had stood there.

Worse.. she had allowed it.

Then came the exile. The declaration? Casting him out of the family as if he had never belonged. Stripping him of everything.. his name, his place, his protection... And even his engagement broken. His future erased. Left alone in a world that had already decided he was worthless.

What would a child think in that moment?

That his family hated him? That he was alone? That he was disposable? That no one wanted him?

Her chest tightened painfully as the realization settled in fully, at last. She had never punished a man.. He wasn’t a man he.. was just a kid.. She had broken a child.

A child who had gone through everything alone.

That truth settled into Merisa slowly, cruelly, like a blade sinking deeper the more she tried to deny it. A child forced to carry pain without anyone to share it with. No comfort. No protection. No reassurance that tomorrow would be kinder. Just silence.. and punishment layered again and again until endurance became the only option.

Now she understood.

That was why he ran.

Why he disappeared without looking back. Why he never returned, no matter how much time passed. Why, even when he finally stood in front of them again, he refused to speak, refused to ask for help, refused to rely on anyone. Even when he could have. Even when it would have been easier.

He had already learned what asking cost.

Merisa’s tears fell freely now, streaking down her cheeks as she looked up at his face, truly seeing him for the first time in years. Something shifted inside her.. something ugly and unbearable.

It wasn’t hatred that had driven him.

It wasn’t childish anger. It wasn’t rebellion. It wasn’t even resentment over punishment.

It was disappointment.

That realization struck harder than any accusation he had screamed at her.

He hadn’t hated them for what they did.

He had been disappointed in them for who they were when it mattered most.

Disappointed in a mother who did not know how to protect him. Who chose rigidity over understanding. Discipline over empathy. Order over care. A mother who stood there, cold and unyielding, while her child was publicly broken.. socially, emotionally, mentally under the guise of justice.

She had shown him cruelty.

She had shown him distance.

She had shown him that love was conditional.

That he was alone.

Her throat tightened painfully as the memories aligned into something she could no longer ignore. The way she had looked at him back then.. not with concern, not with worry, but with disappointment so sharp it might as well have been disgust. The way she had let others take over. Let punishment escalate beyond reason. Let humiliation become spectacle.

She had destroyed him.

Publicly. Socially. Emotionally.

And then she had ended it by severing the last thread he had left.. family.

Now she finally understood why he came back the way he did. Why his eyes were cold. Why his words were sharp. Why he kept everyone at a distance and treated connection like a threat.

It was her fault.

She had handled everything in the worst possible way.

And now

Now it was far too late.

The damage was done. The wound had festered for years, grown deeper, hardened into something poisonous. There was no undoing it. No amount of authority or apology could rewind what she had taken from him.

She stared up at him, lips trembling.

She wanted to say something.

Anything.

But her throat locked, refusing to cooperate. The weight of realization crushed her so completely that even breath felt difficult. Still, she forced herself to try.

"I..." Her voice cracked immediately. She swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision. "I... I’m sorry."

The words finally left her mouth, fragile and inadequate, dissolving into sobs the moment they escaped.

And then

The vampire emotions she had been desperately suppressing surged.

What had already been overwhelming became unbearable. Every emotion she felt.. regret, grief, guilt, sorrow multiplied violently, amplified far beyond human limits. It crashed over her in waves so intense she gasped, clutching at nothing as if drowning.

Her chest tightened painfully. Her breath came shallow and uneven.

Tears poured from her eyes without restraint now, sobs wracking her body as she looked up at her son, unable to stop herself. She didn’t even know what she wanted anymore. Forgiveness? Redemption? Or just the chance to undo even a fraction of the damage she had caused?

All she felt was regret.

Endless, suffocating regret.

If only I hadn’t done that.

The thought echoed again and again, merciless.

If only she had stopped it.

If only she had listened.

If only she had protected him.

But "if only" meant nothing now.

She had destroyed her child.

She had stolen his childhood. His innocence. His sense of safety. His belief that someone.. anyone would stand beside him w