I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 375: Truth Revealed?

"I..."

Maria uttered the word, yet it hung unfinished in the air. The remaining thoughts refused to emerge. Her throat constricted, leaving her motionless for an instant, words failing her. Razeal's statements echoed oppressively in the space between them, and the most painful aspect wasn't the blame itself—it was the undeniable accuracy. Each argument he presented hit perilously near the reality. Despite her efforts, her cheeks burned with a flush of shame intertwined with irritation. She despised how effortlessly he pierced her facade. Despised even more that he grasped facets of her she chose to ignore.

Pressing her lips firmly, she shook her head swiftly, denial rising even as her face revealed her unease. "Yes... what you said holds truth," she finally conceded, the admission grinding out between gritted teeth. It evidently demanded a heavy toll from her. "But I had no hidden motives for joining you."

Raising her chin a bit, she forced a tense smile onto her features, attempting to deliver the lines lightly, masking the raw vulnerability beneath. "I joined because I chose to. Nothing more."

Though straightforward, the statement extracted a greater price than anticipated. A fragile, uneasy smile appeared on her mouth, as if she wavered between desiring his comprehension and hoping he'd feign ignorance. Embarrassment flickered in her gaze, mingled with reluctance—the odd turmoil of craving visibility while dreading it. Deep down, she yearned for him to grasp it without further elaboration. Yet she understood him sufficiently to anticipate the contrary.

And precisely that transpired.

Razeal's face showed no alteration. Not the slightest shift. No astonishment, no intrigue—nothing. His stare stayed impassive, aloof, as if her revelation weighed nothing. "I don’t care," he stated plainly. "Regardless of the motive, you're unnecessary. Leave." His tone carried no fury anymore, just absolute closure. He pivoted from her and headed for the exit, mentally concluding the exchange. "I won’t squander time on this... Return home. Regarding that faith you placed in me earlier... retain the demonic heart. Retain the strength you obtained from associating with me. View it as compensation."

He raised a hand in a nonchalant gesture, without glancing over his shoulder. "That concludes it. You follow your path. I follow mine."

And... Maria halted in place.

For an instant, paralysis gripped her. She gazed at his retreating figure, the implications of his speech penetrating gradually. Then abruptly, comprehension crashed over her. He meant it. He truly intended to abandon her. No debate? No probing? Just termination?

Her visage altered sharply, pallor overtaking her features. A raw, exposed fear emerged. The notion of his departure, of permanence, struck with unforeseen force. Her eyes quivered faintly as alarm infiltrated before she could quell it.

"Wait... stop," she uttered, her phrasing jagged. "You can’t simply proceed like this. I remain valuable to you. I've grown more powerful since those events... you recognize that... don’t you?" Urgency built in her tone, her stare locked on him as though willpower might compel his halt.

Razeal merely elevated his hand once more, brushing off the plea without facing her.

That minor action fractured something within her.

"Hey... wait!" Her cry escalated, piercing and frantic. "I said WAIT! AT LEAST HEAR ME OUT!" The outburst escaped unchecked, resounding through the chamber more intensely than planned.

Desperation now fully overtook her, the usual self-control vanished. Her voice reverberated potently across the space, raw sufficient to render the instant abruptly precarious.

And that at last compelled him to pause.

The abrupt yell surprised him beyond the content itself. He halted in stride, momentarily at a loss for words, as if puzzling over her intense response. Was such fervor truly required? The fervor seemed overblown even to him.

Truly uncertain why matters had intensified to this degree. Gradually, he rotated back, regarding her with subdued incredulity. "Alright," he replied, tolerance waning in his inflection. "What then?"

Maria's breaths came ragged, her bosom heaving swiftly as the rush of adrenaline ebbed into doubt. With his eyes upon her once more, she recognized her lack of preparation for speech. She had merely sought to prevent his exit. Essential phrases eluded her. "I..." she began anew, only to stumble.

Razeal's annoyance emerged plainly now. "Do you possess words or not? You're delaying us."

The edge in his speech reignited her alarm. Witnessing his waning attention, his readiness to depart again, drove her onward. "Wait... I do, I possess something," she stammered hastily, lifting both palms as if to halt the scene physically. Resolve and dread blended on her countenance, hesitation evident in her quivering digits. She lacked certainty on her impending action or its timeliness... solely that permitting his departure felt more agonizing than the ensuing unknown.

Her palm ventured to her dress's collar, pausing briefly before delving inward, seeking an item concealed against her skin. The gesture lacked poise; it was rushed, anxious, propelled by urgency over deliberation. Her gaze stayed riveted on Razeal's countenance, observing vigilantly, terrified that further delay might prompt his renewed departure and erase this opportunity.

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by her erratic respiration.

And... Razeal stiffened upon witnessing Maria's actions.

Briefly, he merely observed, utterly unprepared. His eyebrows furrowed mildly, bewilderment etching his features as he tracked her hand vanishing under her attire's neckline. The act itself didn't perturb him... rather, the reluctance in it, the strain in her grasp, the manner she appeared to steel herself for gravity exceeding the scene's apparent depth. It defied logic. His thoughts raced for rationale, preempting potential misconceptions or odd suppositions forming, when Maria's hand reappeared.

This occasion, she clutched an item.

A necklace.

The charm captured a subtle gleam as it dangled from her fingers—a profoundly violet gem, strikingly vivid, embedded in intricate filigree hinting at antiquity and value beyond mere decoration. It appeared significant. Intimate? An object guarded privately rather than displayed.

Razeal examined it, anticipating familiarity to arise.

None emerged.

His demeanor transitioned from perplexity to subtle focus as he scrutinized it intently, delving into recollections routinely. The hue, the form, the subtle emanation encircling it... nothing evoked familiarity. No spark of memory, no sentiment, nothing indicating this item's relevance to him or justification for halting upon its reveal? or rationale for her belief that unveiling it would sway his decision. Thus, he regarded her with evident confusion.

Opposite him, Maria monitored his expression intently.

Initially, hope gleamed in her eyes. A delicate expectancy, as if awaiting an event rehearsed endlessly in her thoughts. Yet as moments elapsed and his face stayed vacant, an inner fracture became visible.

Comprehension dawned gradually upon her.

He failed to identify it.

Her grip clenched the charm, her inhalation quivering before stabilization. Tears welled instantly, overflowing unchecked.

"You... don’t even recall this?" she queried, her voice fracturing despite attempts at firmness.

The sorrow in her delivery rang loud. It weighed profoundly, infused with anguish and incredulity, as if a long-nurtured treasure had splintered before her. She had foreseen various responses from him... but not this. Not utter obliviousness?

Razeal blinked, startled by the abrupt turn.

Her response baffled him. She had presented an unfamiliar artifact—or at least, one beyond his recall—and now wept as if catastrophe had unfolded. His bewilderment intensified, his visage nearing helpless candor.

"I... don’t," he confessed deliberately, at a loss for alternatives.

Maria's frame shuddered.

"How...?" she murmured, tone wavering, incredulity evolving toward desolation. "How could you fail to identify even this? How could you...?"

Her phrases fragmented as sobs surged forth. Tears flowed unbound, her poise crumbling utterly. She appeared shattered, as though her foundation had vanished. The torment on her features proved genuine, unfeigned—raw, pressing, stemming from forfeiting a presumed certainty.

Razeal lingered, mounting unease and bafflement overtaking him.

He couldn't fathom his misstep. From his viewpoint, no offense occurred. She displayed an unknown item, and his lack of recognition was inevitable. Yet her outpouring surpassed mere letdown. It mirrored mourning after treachery.

Briefly, remorse flickered uneasily within. Observing such weeping before him evoked an innate aversion he preferred suppressing. Yet puzzlement dominated. He wasn't naive enough to dismiss her outburst's implications. No one unraveled thus over triviality. She had anticipated his awareness. With absolute assurance.

Implying... he ought to have known?

His eyes revisited the charm, a subtle scowl forming. He probed his past anew, more meticulously. Nothing arose. His recall remained keen, particularly post-transformation. Forgetting came rarely. Least of all items sparking such vehement response.

Then why the void?

"What’s... happening?" he whispered lowly, chiefly to himself.

The inconsistency disturbed him. He abhorred inexplicable voids.

Momentarily, he weighed dismissing the notion. No need to linger. If unremembered, it lacked import. Simpler verdict.

Yet Maria's display rendered that unfeasible.

Another entity might comprehend.

His countenance stiffened marginally as focus turned inward, to the entity observing parallel to him from the outset.

"Villey," he summoned wordlessly in his psyche. "Do you grasp this situation?"

A short delay followed.

Then the known voice responded.

[So you finally noticed.]

Razeal's scowl intensified.

[Some of your memories were destroyed by your mother.]

The revelation struck forcefully.

Temporarily, his cognition halted. Destroyed? The concept rang false. His retention defied easy alteration—not presently. Nonetheless... the current void acquired form. A deliberate excision over mere oversight?

But prior to deeper inquiry, Villey's tone proceeded, composed and impartial as always.

[And before you ask why I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my responsibility. You were supposed to discover it yourself. My role is to train you, not to guide every step or interfere in your personal matters as am not your babysitter you see.]

No remorse tinged the delivery.

[And not to say what she did was best for your development anyway.]

Razeal's gaze chilled upon absorbing Villey's account, though his exterior stayed unaltered. The response stayed inward, restrained. If possible, his demeanor grew steadier, the tranquility born of willfully sidelining disturbance over addressing it. He had long accepted the system's steering, molding his course, refining essentials for advancement. Subterfuge held no novelty. Aims, dominance, results—elements he embraced sans emotional drain.

Yet the notion persisted.

Erased recollections?

His stare sharpened faintly, shifting back to Maria and the violet pendant quaking in her clasp. Recognition was anticipated. Her response confirmed it irrefutably. Thus, a bond existed between them—profound enough for wordless expectation. Youthful ties? Mutual history? The idea struck alien and disconcerting, akin to grasping at an elusive reverie.

And the system had concealed it.

He refrained from obsessing. Not immediately. Excess queries loomed, and wrenching sense from omission seldom yielded insight. If removed, the erasure proved purposeful. That permitted deferred scrutiny.

Presently, Maria confronted him, unraveling.

Her focus clung to the charm, tears descending mutely as her form quaked. She seemed diminished, her typical resilience eradicated. Whatever significance this held for her, it represented her final anchor, and his obliviousness had obliterated that aspiration entirely. She scarcely registered her environment, immersed in personal lament.

Razeal's brow creased lightly, mind sifting elusive connections that defied unity.

But just as he was

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!

The barrier burst inward.

Rubble and grit erupted into the area with a thunderous detonation, the blast shattering the quiet and yanking Razeal's concentration from introspection at once. The blast hurled shards across the surface, atmosphere surging as wreckage piled where the partition formerly endured.

Razeal's head whipped toward the uproar, his features honing sharply, reflexes overriding deliberation.

Though Maria still didn’t react.

She stayed rooted, gaze downcast to the necklace in her palm, as if external chaos had evaporated. The noise, the ruin, the abrupt breach—none penetrated her grief's veil.

Ere the haze dispersed fully, a voice sliced the space.

Icy... Restrained and profoundly Threatening.

"Is what this says true?"

The chamber's warmth plummeted with the utterance.

Amid the swirling particles loomed Sofia.

She had breached forcibly, the shattered barrier outlining her form. In her grasp, she clutched an aged periodical, margins creased from her vise-like hold. Her sight locked wholly on Razeal, devoid of levity or affection. Solely a keen, leashed edge, akin to ire simmering just below.

The bold print stood legible from his position.

A charge.

Razeal attempting to rape someone.

Razeal's eyes shifted from her visage to the sheet in her hold, absorbing the text sans outward shift. His countenance unaltered. No refutation, no vexation, no astonishment. He merely observed it... gazing steadily at her with composure.

Their disparity proved vivid. Sofia emanated strain, stance inflexible, frame taut, as though she had raced hither swifter than reason. Whatever content she scanned, she bypassed calm reflection, arriving directly.

"Is this true," she restated, timbre deeper now, icier prior. Each syllable bore heft, as if she compelled serenity while awaiting his reply.

Quiet reclaimed the room, yet this hush diverged from earlier. Not laden with woe or remorse. It cut keenly, anticipatory.

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