I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 404: Maria Breakdown

Upon hearing Maria’s words, Razeal paused briefly before fully grasping the situation. The instant she declared his innocence, it all fell into place in his thoughts. Yet, he remained mildly astonished by her outburst of open tears and utterly devastated look.

To him, the facts of that event had faded into a remote, unremarkable memory long ago, a burden he bore without hoping for others’ comprehension. But now, she stood before him, tears flowing freely, as though the truth’s impact had utterly demolished her.

Razeal casually opened his arms a bit and gave a light shrug, his face serene and nearly apathetic. “I did say I didn’t do it,” he murmured softly, his voice even and devoid of aggression. “Well... now you know.” His statement came out straightforward and offhand, though inwardly he felt unsure about his emotions toward this scene.

This marked the first occasion anyone had faced him directly after uncovering the truth, expressing remorse in person. From Maria’s response, guilt over her prior beliefs clearly consumed her. Strangely, though, Razeal stayed emotionally distant from it all. He had discovered through hardship that women’s tears held little trustworthiness for him now. Even if her regret proved genuine... what difference would it make? The past stayed unchanged. He let out a gentle sigh as he gazed at her, sensing a peculiar blend of void and subtle annoyance... just whatever.

Inwardly, the irony struck him hard. So I was correct from the start, he mused silently. And now belief arrives solely because the liars confessed their deceit outright. What an absurd twist reality brings. The sheer ridiculousness nearly drew a silent chuckle from him. For years, the charge went unquestioned by all. Only the culprits’ own revelation brought the facts to light. Yet, even with that clarity, Razeal sensed no joy or triumph as one might anticipate. Relief evaded him, satisfaction absent. The moment rang empty instead. Vindication after the fact failed to mend the inflicted wounds. Thus, he offered no exuberance or ease. No grin crossed his lips. No cheers escaped. He merely remained poised, arms folded, observing Maria’s collapse before him.

However, Razeal’s detached demeanor intensified Maria’s torment. His composed reply, as if he had foreseen and accepted it as obvious all along, unleashed another surge of remorse within her. Her eyes flared wide while tears cascaded unchecked. His earlier words reverberated tormentingly: I did say I didn’t do it. Indeed... he had proclaimed it. He had attempted self-defense. Yet she dismissed him. Maria shook her head frantically, desperately, seemingly rejecting her history’s harsh truth.

“Yes... you did say it,” she whispered unsteadily, her voice quivering amid sobs. “You said it... and I didn’t believe you. I didn’t...” Her words fractured midway. Regret and self-disgust overwhelmed her features now. Mere steps from him, she fixed unblinking eyes on his visage, fearing its vanishing if averted.

“I didn’t believe you,” she echoed faintly. “I believed the lie instead.” Her shoulders shook as fresh tears traced her cheeks. Recollections of her past treatment toward him turned excruciating. She recalled her mockery. Her doubts. Her disdainful glares, convinced of his grave sin. Now truth shattered those illusions. “When you said you didn’t do it... I taunted you,” she pressed on, voice shuddering in horror at herself. “I humiliated you... I... I tried too...” The phrase stuck, too burdensome to utter fully. Her lips quivered anew as sobs hindered breath. “I am so sorry... I am so, so sorry,” she finally choked out, voice shattering utterly. Tears flooded her face and mouth, their saltiness ignored. Nothing mattered save Razeal’s presence ahead.

Silently, Razeal observed her, his countenance enigmatic. Briefly, sarcasm tempted him, perhaps quipping ‘Sounds about right.’ The impulse arose naturally, matching events precisely. But he held it back. Quietly, he assessed her display. Such apologies from Maria struck him as odd.

Previously, she mirrored the masses, swallowing accusations wholesale. Now she wept as though guilty of heinous acts herself. Conflicting sentiments stirred faintly within: sorrow perhaps, and a hint of gratification at last acknowledgment. Yet none dominated strongly. Chiefly, discomfort pervaded. To him, her visage evoked pity aimed his way. Those brimming eyes, mournful pleas, fervent regrets—they painted him as pitiable, shattered, sympathy-worthy. That irked him far beyond past slanders. Razeal despised pity above all.

From the sidelines, Sofia observed the exchange wordlessly. Her vantage revealed Maria’s profile vividly: quivering lips, ceaseless tears, raw anguish in her gaze. As a fellow woman, Sofia instantly comprehended Maria’s turmoil.

Sofia recognized Maria’s profound attachment to Razeal—likely love itself. Now, the brutal truth dawned: she had embraced falsehoods about her beloved. Worse, that deception might have wounded him. Sofia grasped the guilt’s immensity. She recalled Maria’s earlier fury upon discovery—the wrath, murderous aura, total loss of restraint against Selena and Celestia. Beyond mere ire, it signaled reality’s upheaval.

Sofia nearly intervened, tempted to approach, soothe Maria, urge steady breaths, ease self-recrimination, note shared belief in the tale. But she halted. Reflection revealed its impropriety. This lay beyond her meddling. Though pain overwhelmed genuinely, Maria required solo confrontation. Palliating with ‘not your fault’ offered fleeting solace, dishonest at core. Sofia deemed it wrong. Moreover, defending Maria risked aligning against Razeal, regardless of his indifference or misread intent. She refrained.

Thus, she sighed softly, arms crossed, silently eyeing the pair. Pain afflicted both, yet they must navigate it unaided.

Sofia grasped the fragility. Raw, intricate emotions filled the air. A misstep could escalate chaos. Maria quaked, barely composed against truth’s burden. Sofia knew this tumult wove guilt, remorse, sorrow, self-reproach into an crushing knot. She pondered intervention versus restraint. Interference likely worsened matters. Tension thickened unbearably.

Yet abruptly, silence fractured with a piercing crack resounding through the shop.

CRACK.

The crisp noise erupted across the space.

Sofia’s head jerked up at once.

Shock widened her eyes as Maria’s hand lingered mid-air near her cheek. She had slapped herself fiercely. The echo bounced off shop walls.

For an instant, Sofia blanked on the sight.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” she cried out in bewildered alarm, lunging forward on reflex.

Razeal’s composure cracked faintly; he blinked startled. Such an act lay beyond expectation. Amid tears, Maria struck her own face while facing him.

Before responses could form...

Pahhh!

Another blow connected.

Then one more.

Pahhh! Pahhh! Pahhh!

Maria’s palm repeated relentlessly.

Every hit boomed forcefully, cheek meeting hand with savage power. No gentle taps—these inflicted true punishment.

Pahhh!

Pahhh!

Six... seven... possibly beyond, in swift barrage.

Each surpassing prior ferocity.

Impacts snapped Maria’s head sideways, hair whipping, tears unrelenting.

Sofia’s stun morphed to genuine alarm.

“Hey! Stop it! Maria, calm down! What are you doing?!” she bellowed, hastening close, tone urgent with worry. Maria appeared emotion-swamped, self-possessed no longer.

Sofia extended to seize her wrist, halting further harm.

Yet before contact...

Maria lifted her free hand toward Sofia.

Palm out in unmistakable halt.

“Don’t,” Maria uttered feebly yet resolute, voice shaky, tears persisting.

Sofia halted abruptly.

Maria pivoted her weeping stare her way.

“I know what I’m doing,” she declared, voice cracking beneath emotion’s strain. “You don’t understand... You won’t...”

Red, puffy eyes bespoke profound guilt-pain agony.

Sofia ceased entirely.

Close inspection showed Maria’s cheek aflame red from blows.

Maria appeared utterly shattered.

Not bodily... but in spirit.

Sofia parted lips to speak, yet silence prevailed. Right words eluded her.

Meanwhile, Razeal viewed quietly throughout.

At length, he voiced.

“You really don’t need to do this,” he stated evenly, gaze steady on Maria.

“It’s fine. No one trusted me anyway.”

He shrugged subtly onward.

“And I didn’t say anything either. So... don’t do this. It doesn’t really look good. It’s all fine... Okay?”

His tone held no ire or bite—rather, weary fatigue.

To Razeal, the scene rang profoundly awkward.

Proper response escaped him.

Maria’s self-strikes evoked no anticipated sentiment. Mere unease bloomed.

Not utter indifference gripped him.

Yet stirred feelings proved tangled.

A touch of sorrow.

A dash of vexation.

An odd hollowness.

Above all, it appeared unseemly.

Not from hatred or vengeful desire... but senseless theatrics eluded logic.

What purpose did it serve?

Razeal never demanded Maria’s faith initially. Nor anticipated it.

All accepted the claim. She numbered among them.

Thus, her self-assault seemed superfluous.

Nigh ridiculous.

“Yes, you’re sorry,” he pondered mutely, eyeing her. “Fine. But self-harm alters naught.”

He endured the ordeal’s toll already.

The humiliation.

The isolation.

The anger.

The pain.

The suffering or whatever.

All survived intact.

What impact lingered now?

Crucially, Razeal misconstrued Maria’s intent wholly.

To him, it seemed performative proof—self-inflicted agony showcasing remorse... or devotion.

Yet Maria sought self-reckoning, grappling guilt’s crush. Perhaps channeling turmoil outward via pain amid complication.

Clarity evaded Razeal.

Truthfully, misunderstanding bore no blame on him.

Life dealt him harsh absurdities: disbelief in need, no aid forthcoming.

Post-hellish rise, former tormentors approached remorseful, arms wide, baring sorrow, offering atonement for favor or trust regained.

Yet truly... irrelevance reigned.

Indeed, such displays heightened manipulation suspicions.

Perplexity reigned.

It appeared poor.

No alteration from theatrics, however contrite.

Merely exhausting presently.

Uncertain.

Simply... somewhat dismal.

Now self-slaps projected expectations upon him.

What next?

Did she seek evoked pity? Instant absolution via witnessed torment? Proof of true penitence, unintended past convictions? Displayed regret? Razeal puzzled over fitting reply or deed.

Increased emotional onslaughts bred denser unease. No solace, no rapport—only heavier, baffling burdens.

His gaze held on tearful Maria, mind delving profounder.

What purpose? Intent? Motive? Desired outcome?

Exhaustion claimed him.

Beyond bodily drain—soul-deep weariness from solitary burdens, unchallenged slanders accrued yearly.

Sudden histrionics assailed.

Self-slaps?

Sobs?

Cataclysmic apologies?

Comprehension failed.

Others might deem it authentic atonement, frantic reparation. To Razeal, mere oddity.

No need for self-harm proving sorrow.

No call for self-flagellation evidencing care.

Honestly, Maria required no such extremity.

Reflected deeply, her past acts paled minor.

Yes, accusation embraced universally.

Yes, mockery and mistreatment followed.

Yet versus world’s venomous onslaughts, hers scarcely dented.

To Razeal, her deeds evoked juvenile folly over malice—impulsive, attention-fueled immaturity.

Annoyance stung.

Brief fury perhaps.

Never deep scars like true treacheries.

Hence, current excess jarred.

Why this? he pondered wordlessly.

She resembled one guilty of unforgivable sin.