I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 393: Secret Behind Levys Boonb

Levy’s Point of View

Levy... this decision is truly for the best... for the both of us. Aurora’s tone was gentle yet unwavering, possessing a firm resolve that indicated she had already made up her mind long before speaking. She stood before him, gazing upward into his eyes with her trembling pink irises—orbs that usually radiated warmth and fragility—now reflecting a newfound determination.

If we decide to follow him, she continued, meticulously selecting her words as if fearful that a single slip might drive Levy toward the path she dreaded, our existence will never know peace. You are well aware of that.

A slight shake of her head followed.

I have not known him for very long, she admitted, but one truth is clear: wherever that man travels, calamity is never far behind. A bitter, faint smile curved her lips. Or perhaps, he is simply a magnet for misfortune itself.

Aurora lifted her gaze once more.

Did you witness it today? she softly inquired. The way chaos seems to erupt wherever he goes?

Furthermore... that man is cruel, Levy. She paused, then added with a sigh, Putting everything else aside... did you see how he treated his own mother?

The mere recollection made her chest ache.

He conducts himself as if he truly cares for no one, she remarked. As if he is devoid of all feeling.

Her voice dipped to a whisper.

He is... entirely consumed by lingering resentment and betrayal... he believes he has reached...

He is not like us.

Aurora reached out, placing a palm tenderly against Levy’s chest, right over his heart.

We are simple beings, she murmured.

The tremor in her eyes returned.

My time... it is running out.

These words hung heavily in the air, fragile enough to shatter should they be spoken too loudly.

You know this to be true.

Levy’s jaw tightened, yet he chose to remain silent.

Ten years, she estimated faintly, maybe slightly more, but ultimately...

Aurora inhaled a shaky breath.

I wish to spend the remainder of that time with you. Her voice deepened with intimacy. In peace... in happiness... just the two of us.

Her fingers clutched his shirt tighter.

I desire to live those remaining years wrapped in love... savoring quiet mornings and tranquil evenings, detached from the fear of monsters, wars, or the political maneuvers of powerful figures who would trample everything in their wake... simply us.

Her pink eyes shimmered with raw emotion.

Should we follow him... that dream will never come to pass.

The implication was clear without further elaboration.

The life alongside someone like Razeal was painted in shades of inevitable conflict, peril, and profound instability.

I believe the path forward is clear, she added quietly.

Levy maintained his silence, looking down at her with an unreadable expression, his thoughts trapped in a labyrinth of hesitation.

Aurora waited patiently.

Eventually, she persisted, aiming to nudge him toward the conclusion she had already cemented in her heart.

We owe him nothing, she stated firmly. Absolutely nothing.

She shook her head emphatically.

He stated as much himself... he is fully aware of it.

Her voice carried a touch of insistence.

We require nothing from him, and we carry no debt toward him.

Levy’s gaze finally flickered.

Yet, I still feel as though I owe him, he finally confessed.

No... both of us do.

Aurora stared at him in disbelief. What? No, that is false! she exclaimed, her tone veering into sharpness. She found his stubbornness baffling given the obvious nature of their situation. Why would you suggest such a thing?

He saved our very lives back there, Levy replied, his tone calm but resolute. Had he not intervened... we would not be standing here today. His eyes dropped, reflecting the surfacing memory. We still owe him our lives.

Aurora immediately shook her head in defiance.

No, she insisted. That is not the truth.

Her demeanor hardened.

We never would have been in that predicament were it not for him.

She crossed her arms defensively, as if shielding herself from the argument.

He was our leader, she continued, and he held a responsibility toward us.

Her voice sharpened.

He even claimed for himself that he was merely doing what was necessary.

Levy scrutinized her, his expression softening. No... the debt remains. For both of us. He looked off into the distance. Can you imagine the outcome had he not acted? The sentence remained unfinished, the answer too dark and too apparent to vocalize.

Even if that were so, she countered after a pause, striving to remain composed, what does that change?

Her voice betrayed a slight tremble.

Do you intend to repay him for the rest of your days? she questioned. Risking your life whenever he courted disaster? Following him into every catastrophe he manufactures?

Her eyes brimmed with emotion.

Then what is the purpose of our lives?

The question weighed heavily between them.

You are aware that my time is finite, she whispered once more.

Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress.

Ten years... or perhaps a bit more.

Her gaze became painfully soft.

All I desire is to spend that time with you. Her voice fell to a mere murmur.

With the man I love.

Her eyes searched his face for an answer.

Is that too much to ask?

Levy looked down at her quietly.

For an instant, the stubborn reserve in his mind began to waver.

Truthfully... he wasn't certain why he continued to feel tethered to that emotionless brute.

Razeal was dangerous, cold, and complex.

Yet, Levy let out a soft sigh.

It isn't merely about the debt, he said quietly.

Aurora frowned, her frustration giving way to confusion. What are you talking about?

Levy held her gaze firmly.

We are also in need of something from him.

Aurora blinked, utterly bewildered. What? she asked slowly. What could we possibly need from a man like him?

She truly could not grasp his meaning; to her, Levy sounded as if he were frantically inventing excuses.

Levy remained silent for a heartbeat.

Instead, he reached out and took her hand.

The spontaneous action caught Aurora off guard. She glanced down at their interlaced fingers, startled, before looking back up at him.

Come with me, Levy whispered.

Without waiting for further protest, he led her away from the street and toward a modest house behind his shop. Aurora followed, still reeling in confusion. The building itself appeared entirely unremarkable to any passerby. Yet, Levy guided her inside, navigating through the back entrance into a narrow, dim corridor until—

They entered a cramped storage room.

Aurora opened her mouth to challenge him, but Levy continued his task.

He crouched down beside a shelving unit and shoved a stack of wooden crates aside. Tucked beneath them, embedded in the floor, was a hidden mechanism.

Aurora blinked in realization.

Levy pulled the latch.

A quiet, grinding noise echoed as a section of the floor shifted, revealing a narrow stone staircase descending into the depths of darkness.

Aurora stared in stunned silence.

You... you have a secret cellar? For what possible reason? she thought, bewildered.

Levy offered no answer.

He simply took her hand again and began their descent.

The air grew progressively cooler, while the soft light from his handheld lantern threw elongated shadows across the stone walls. Aurora’s confusion deepened with every step downward, concluding as they reached the bottom and stood before a singular, heavy wooden door.

What is this? Aurora asked softly, her brow furrowed as she searched Levy’s face for clues. His silence had been absolute throughout their journey, his expression etched with a gravity she had never seen before—weighted, tense, and colored by some ancient, difficult history. Curiosity churned within her.

Levy met her eyes and offered a slow, grave nod. The deepest secret of my clan, he murmured, his voice sounding uncharacteristically heavy. For many generations. He paused, his expression softening only slightly. And since they have all passed on... I am the only one who knows. You are the first person I have ever chosen to reveal this to. The first person I have ever trusted.

Aurora felt a ripple of emotion deep within. Despite the unease and confusion, a flicker of warmth grew in her chest. Being the one person he trusted with such a heavy burden moved her deeply. She could perceive by his rigid posture and the sorrow in his eyes that this revelation was not light. She swallowed hard and offered a silent nod, sensing that words would only cheapen the gravity of the moment.

Levy drew a slow breath, grounding himself, then placed a hand upon the door handle. He hesitated for a fleeting second, his fingers white-knuckled against the metal, as if he loathed what lay beyond. Then, with a faint, echoing creak, he pushed the door open.

As the door swung inward, an uncanny phenomenon occurred.

Tiny magical lamps embedded in the walls flickered to life automatically, bathing the room in a soft, ethereal blue luminescence as if acknowledging their arrival. The light flooded the chamber, revealing its contents slowly.

Then—

Levy extended a hand toward Aurora.

She looked down at his palm, then placed her own within it. His hand was warm and unwavering, though she sensed a subtle vibration in his grip. He signaled for her to proceed forward.

Taking a deep breath, Levy stepped across the threshold.

Aurora followed instantly.

The moment they entered, a suffocating heaviness blanketed the air, as if the room itself held the weight of centuries. Levy clearly felt it, too; she noted the sharp tightening of his jaw. It was evident he held no affection for this place.

Aurora’s curiosity became a sharp ache as her eyes swept the chamber—

And then she froze.

Her entire frame went rigid.

The space was far more expansive than the exterior of the house suggested. It stretched into the gloom, its walls lined from floor to ceiling with endless rows of wooden shelves. The chamber was a labyrinth of organized racks, entirely devoid of furniture, decorations, or comfort. Only shelves remained.

And resting upon those shelves...

Jars.

Immense glass jars.

Hundreds of them.

Each was filled with a translucent, viscous liquid that caught the blue glow of the magical light.

Aurora’s breath hitched as her gaze darted along the rows.

Initially, her mind struggled to process the sight.

Then, her focus sharpened.

Her pupils dilated in horror.

Inside every jar, suspended within the preservative, was a heart.

A human heart.

Young, vibrant—

Perfectly preserved, as if time had been halted the very instant they were entombed.

Aurora’s stomach lurched sickeningly.

She scanned from one jar to another, then to the next, finally realizing that the entire expanse was filled with them. Dozens upon dozens.

Hundreds.

Hundreds of human hearts, floating in silent, fluid graves.

And they were small.

Far too small.

Undeniably, these were the hearts of children.

A frigid shiver violently raced down her spine. A nauseating sensation crawled beneath her skin, as if pests were swarming beneath her flesh. The air in the room suddenly felt thin, impossible to breathe.

Her lips parted, though no sound escaped.

Her mind revolted against the reality before her.

Finally, forcing herself to avert her gaze from the shelves, she turned to Levy.

Wh... what... what is this place? she whispered, her voice fractured.

Wide eyes reflected a cocktail of terror and bewilderment as she searched for answers.

She desperately required an explanation.

Could the man she loved—the gentle, quiet soul who spoke softly and cradled her hand as if it were a fragile gem—truly be the curator of this hidden chamber of horrors?

I... Levy started.

But the words died in his throat.

He struggled to find a beginning. For a moment, he simply observed her, witnessing the absolute fear and confusion etched onto her features.

Then, he gave a faint, resigned nod.

He had anticipated this reaction. It was impossible to witness this room without being utterly disturbed. Yet, he was compelled to explain.

This... he began quietly, gesturing toward the endless shelves, is inherently linked to that which I alluded to previously.

Aurora remained silent, her eyes locked onto his, waiting.

Levy took a slow, measured breath.

Do you recall when I spoke of my family receiving a divine blessing an age ago? he inquired.

Aurora blinked.

Yes, the story returned to her.

Levy had once mentioned that his line possessed an ancient boon passed down through generations—a burden not unlike the one she carried herself.

And because you... you also possess a boon woven into your bloodline, Levy continued, his voice lowering as if the chamber demanded reverence, you understand better than most that such divine gifts are never truly free. He turned to meet her gaze, the azure light dancing in his eyes. Every blessing granted by divinity carries a toll. A truly horrific one.

Aurora said nothing, but the agony she saw in his eyes made her own heart contract. The gravity she had sensed earlier was still present, now underscored by an ancient, fathomless sorrow. This was not mere discomfort; it was grief—a grief that had simmered within him for an eternity.

Slowly, she offered a nod.

She understood the price of divine intervention perfectly.

There was always a cost.

Levy drew breath and turned his eyes away from her, letting them wander over the endless rows of jars. He raised a hand, gesturing listlessly toward them.

So... all of this, he remarked softly, his hand sweeping across the collection of hearts, is the toll my family has paid... for that initial boon.

His voice wavered.

Aurora noticed the sheen of moisture gathering in his eyes as he looked upon what was left of his predecessors. The sadness there was not born of mere observation; it was deeply, agonizingly personal.

Aurora remained silent for several long seconds, struggling to reconcile the information.

A toll?... paid...? she murmured, testing the words as if they were cold steel, trying to digest their meaning.

Levy gave a faint nod.

You remember the tale I told, he continued. Of my ancestor... the man who first received the blessing.

Aurora nodded once more.

Indeed, Levy said softly. He was an ardent devotee of the god Vareth. His faith was so absolute that, eventually, the deity took notice. Pleased, Vareth appeared to grant him a single wish.

Levy paused, allowing the gravity of that moment to permeate the room.

Naturally, he whispered, my ancestor requested...

Levy raised a hand and pressed it against his own chest, directly over his heart.

The Heart of Illusion.

Despite the horror of their surroundings, Aurora’s eyes flickered with a vestige of curiosity.

The god fulfilled his request, Levy continued. Vareth implanted the blessing directly into my ancestor’s heart. He gained unimaginable power... abilities that allowed him to achieve feats no mundane human could fathom. He became... incredibly powerful and revered during those times.

For a fleeting moment, a spike of bitterness colored his tone.

But divine blessings rarely come unaccompanied.

His eyes darkened.

When my ancestor finally conceived his first child, Levy explained slowly, the curse inherent in the blessing was revealed.

Aurora felt a sharp tension in her muscles.

Levy kept his eyes fixed upon the floorboards.

From that generation forward... every child born to our bloodline bears a fatal flaw. He paused, seemingly forcing himself to articulate the words. When a child reaches the age of ten... or perhaps thirteen... their heart begins to perish.

Their body withers. Their vitality is slowly drained, Levy continued in a low, hollow tone. Medicine is powerless against it. Arcane healing methods are useless... nothing succeeds.

And... there is only one solution to sustain them.

He met her eyes again.

That heart.

Aurora’s pupils trembled in sheer shock.

The heart that carries the original blessing...

So, he discovered that the heart passed down through every generation must be removed from the parent’s chest and implanted into the child, Levy explained. Only that heart can sustain the life force of the next successor.

He stopped to catch his breath.

And the moment the child receives the heart... the parent inevitably perishes. Obviously.

A crushing silence settled over the chamber.

Aurora stared at him, her mind frantically grasping to comprehend the cycle he had described.

Levy turned his attention back to the jars.

And so, that is what my ancestor did, he murmured. When his son reached the age where the curse manifested... he removed his own heart and gave it to him.

His voice dropped to almost nothing.

And that son... he grew up knowing that the very same fate awaited his offspring.

Levy gestured heavily toward the rows of shelves.

The second generation followed suit. Then the third. Then the fourth. Every single one.