I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 409: Hurt You?

Razeal’s POV~

Within Levy’s shop, moments later, the oppressive and stifling air that had gripped every corner of the space finally started to ease... or so it seemed from the outside. The atmosphere no longer quivered with wild energy, the fierce emotional eruptions had halted, and the disaster that loomed just minutes earlier had been narrowly dodged. Yet below that shaky tranquility, chaos lingered raw, unsteady, and nowhere close to settled.

The previous ten to twenty minutes had proven utterly devastating for all involved. Not one soul in the room escaped untouched, rattled somehow. The crisis hadn’t merely intensified—it had fractured something deep within each person, forging a hush heavier than the turmoil that preceded it.

Maria stood at the epicenter. Her emotions had whirled out of control, inner conflict surging to extremes that obliterated rational thinking. Crushed by guilt, horror, and brutal truths, her psyche shattered, compelling an irreversible deed no one there anticipated. She ended her own life. Not symbolically, not in blind fury, but utterly, with cold resolve, as her mental collapse pulled her body into oblivion. And yet... she remained. Alive once more, revived by Razeal via a means beyond grasp or rationale.

Upon stirring awake, relief evaded her. Gratitude never surfaced. Terror? Bewilderment? A fog of disorientation gripped her so fiercely that her thoughts couldn’t unravel the nightmare. Death had consumed her, she’d tasted it, surrendered to it—then abruptly... she returned. Breathing? Perceiving? Alive anew? This alone demolished her fragile grip on sanity. Razeal sought to soothe her, words anchoring her reality, halting another plunge, though even he sensed the inner rupture persisted despite her body’s revival.

Flesh mends easily. Wounds heal. Blood surges back. Yet the emotional abyss she’d plunged into—guilt, hopelessness, ruthless self-judgment that propelled her suicide—those scars endured. Lodged in her mind, pristine, piercing, smothering. Worse, perhaps, amplified now.

No overstatement rang true: Maria was devoured alive by her turmoil then. The harsh truth of her deeds, sensations past and present crushed her like a voracious entity, devouring from within. Strangely... survival stung worse than demise. Now she must bear it, inhabit it, confront it, endure it. A stark, fleeting beat revealed she might strike again—not rashly, but crushed by intolerable inner torment.

Razeal and Sofia blocked her. Flawed intervention, no cures offered, merely restraint. Halting deeds amid her mental gale. In time, they coaxed her to sit, frame frail, stance brittle, fingers quaking subtly as she... lingered. Silent and Crying. Hushed, relentless, tears the sole output her form mustered effortlessly.

No one pried further from her. No demands for words. Plainly, she craved time. Time to absorb, steady herself. Time to grasp the abyss she’d traversed.

And then there was Sofia.

Where Maria lay emotionally demolished... Sofia reeled mentally in a wholly distinct manner. The spectacle she’d beheld wasn’t mere jolt—it defied all logic. True death unfolded before her eyes. Then, that very soul revived. No simple mending, no resurrection spell, nothing from their world’s arsenal. This transcended healing. Death itself inverted. For Sofia, attuned to this realm’s power framework, discerning feasible from impossible, such impossibility struck with unbearable force.

To regular folks, such an event might be brushed off as a miracle or utterly baffling. Yet Sofia understood the truth far better. She fully grasped the enormous magnitude of what she'd just beheld. Even her father, the king of Atlantis—one of the mightiest in this world—couldn't pull that off. The Empress herself, the undisputed top powerhouse here, couldn't manage it either. Not by a long shot, in fact.

That realization only deepened the terror.

The greater her knowledge grew, the harder it became to make sense of it all. Her thoughts had spun wildly since then, desperately trying to assemble any clue... anything to account for Razeal's actions. At one moment, she'd confronted him straight up... asking who he truly was. She had seriously considered that he might surpass even the core of existence—a mere avatar of a Supreme God, or perhaps the Supreme God himself? The notion seemed ridiculous... but what she'd witnessed outdid any absurdity. She had no idea.

To her direct query, he'd merely shrugged. No response. No clarification. Pure nonchalance... which only fueled her suspicions further.

Thus, she'd resorted to the sole option left... shoving the mystery aside. Not from lack of interest. Urgent matters demanded attention. Maria required stabilization. The chaos had to be controlled. Sofia redirected her efforts, approaching Maria and softly resting a hand on her head, stroking it gently to offer solace amid her own turbulent mind. Outwardly, her face held steady composure, but inside, endless questions swirled. Who is he? Precisely what is he? What did I witness? No solutions emerged. Their absence weighed everything down heavier.

As for Razeal...

He remained standing, largely quiet.

Once Maria calmed sufficiently to avert instant peril, he offered few words. No breakdowns. No intense reactions. Not even a clear nod to the gravity of recent events. Observers might peg him as detached. Unmoved. Yet that missed the mark. Though he concealed it... though his face stayed serene and inscrutable... his thoughts weren't idle.

Maria had ended her own life.

For his sake. And that defied quick comprehension.

It clashed with his grasp of humanity... of feelings... of reality's workings.

Hence his silence.

Not from lack of reflection.

But from overwhelming abundance... Even for someone like him.

The shop now drowned in a profound hush, so thick it bordered on eerie, as if the atmosphere itself thickened with the aftermath and stalled completely. Nobody uttered a word.

Nobody stirred without need.

Solely Maria's faint, shattered sobs filled the void—soft, ragged gasps quivering from her chest as she perched on the chair, head bowed low, eyes glazed over like she saw nothing ahead. No more boisterous wails craving notice or catharsis; this was persistent leakage. As if an inner fracture had split wide and wouldn't seal. Despite efforts to compose herself, to reclaim poise, the whimpers escaped, exposing her fragility. Occasionally, her fingers twitched upward, shaking as they grazed her head, gripping softly to contain her mind, and sporadically, her eyes darted timidly, waveringly to Razeal, positioned a short way off, hushed, statue-still, arms folded while he observed her blankly.

His look held an enigmatic quality—not icy, not kind, merely... watchful. Each glance from Maria carried a peculiar blend of bewilderment and a profound undercurrent... one even she couldn't pinpoint.

Moments dragged in that oppressive stillness. The burden of occurrences didn't lift; it burrowed further. Maria's cries tapered off, not from serenity, but sheer fatigue. Her breathing slowed, steadied somewhat, still irregular, until an uncanny, ear-crushing quiet enveloped the shop. The sort that squeezed your senses, rendering tiny motions jarringly loud. None shattered it. None dared. Until Razeal released a soft sigh.

Barely audible. Far from theatrical. Yet amid the quiet, it resonated deeply.

He adjusted his stance faintly, eyes locked on Maria, arms still crossed, studying her vulnerable form. Then, face unchanged, he addressed her.

"Are you alright now...?" His tone stayed even, firm, nearly offhand, slicing the silence sharply and snapping Maria's focus right to him.

Gradually, she raised her head.

Her motions came across as feeble and sluggish, as though even lifting her eyes demanded tremendous effort. Their gazes connected, and she stayed silent for a handful of seconds, merely gazing at him. Motionless. Probing. Her crimson, puffy eyes brimmed with a whirlwind of feelings—bewilderment, remorse, dread, yearning—all knotted up so fiercely that her face appeared precarious, on the verge of crumbling. At last, after those prolonged, heavy seconds, her lips parted slightly.

"Why...?" she murmured softly.

Her voice sounded raspy, delicate, scarcely staying intact.

"Why did you bring me back...?" she went on, eyes fixed on him unwaveringly. "After all I’ve done... and failed to do...?" As she spoke, her fingers gripped tighter in her lap, quivering once more. "I thought... you didn’t want me anymore... that you despised me..." Her tone sank lower, nearly cracking. "So why...?"

She wasn’t blaming him.

She truly couldn’t comprehend.

Razeal observed her briefly, tilting his head a bit as if pondering her words, yet he held back his reply at first. Rather, his eyes flicked down momentarily, catching sight of her hands folded in her lap. They shook fiercely. Not gently. Not faintly. They quaked hard, fingers jerking as she fought to steady them, channeling all her remaining power to compose herself yet still coming up short.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers again.

"Why don’t you explain first... why you took your own life?" he inquired evenly, his voice steady, nearly detached. It lacked sharpness. It held no passion. It struck straight. Inquisitive. For even after all that occurred, full clarity eluded him. He harbored theories—remorse, emotional surge, perhaps a wish to flee herself—but none rang fully true. And presently, only she could clarify it.

Maria held off on replying right away.

Her stare fixed on him, eyes glued to his features as if deciphering any hint from them. Then gradually, her mouth stirred.

"Making sure... I won’t harm you again."

The words emerged softly... yet distinctly.

And for an instant...

Razeal showed no response.

For it made no sense.

Not to him, at least.

His eyebrows furrowed a touch, bewilderment flashing subtly over his composed face. "What...?" he uttered instinctively. "Harm me...?" He cocked his head once more, evidently lost in her logic. "Why would you think that...?" Genuine puzzlement colored his voice now. "And... how does that justify ending your life...?" His stare intensified, seeking to grasp her perspective, though her response lay far beyond what he’d imagined.

Maria’s eyes held steady.

"I harmed you," she repeated, firmer now yet still quivering. "I know it’s true... even if you refuse to acknowledge it."

Razeal fell quiet once more.

He offered no denial.

He voiced no assent.

He simply... stayed mute. As if it failed to address his query.

Maria gulped softly, her hands balling up in her lap while she pressed on, her speech slowing, more measured, like she’d mulled this over endlessly. "I know... you wouldn’t punish me," she uttered low. "Kill me... or harm me in any way... though you’re fully justified." Her gaze grew tender, but the sorrow swelled deeper. "You wouldn’t demand a thing from me... you’d dismiss it... say you don’t mind... Right? I know..."

"But it does matter," she added, voice fading. "It matters... admitted or not."

She drew in a tremulous breath.

"And I know... you won’t vent your rage on me... though you ought to," she persisted. "You’d bottle it up... pretend it’s nonexistent..." Her eyes never strayed from his. "Yet it’ll linger... and keep wounding you."

Her fingers clenched harder, shaking anew.

"And if I lived on..." she stated deliberately, "...I’d just worsen it."

Razeal stayed motionless.

Absorbing her words.

"Because I couldn’t keep my distance from you," she confessed softly, tone fracturing a bit. "I’d return repeatedly... attempting to mend it... acting selfishly... doing favors for you... seeking absolution... though unworthy..." Her breaths turned ragged once more. "I’d persist... over and over..."

Her eyes dipped briefly.

"And ultimately... it would serve only me," she breathed. "Not you."

She raised her gaze to him again.

"And you... would never let out what you feel," she murmured gently. "You'd never release it... you'd just bear it all..." Her tone softened more, yet gained a deeper weight. "No matter how much you claim it doesn't matter... it would still wound you."

Silence hung in the air.

A prolonged one.

"That's why..." she finally whispered, her voice scarcely audible, "...I figured... if I were no longer around..."

"And by ending my own life..." Maria went on, her tone gentle but laced with an odd clarity amid the subtle shake, like she'd rehearsed this in her mind endless times, "I simply wanted to ease your pain... bring you some relief... at least a little... at least I'd get the punishment I deserved... and..." her lips tightened for a second before parting once more, "...and I wouldn't hurt you anymore... not in the future either." Her eyes remained fixed on Razeal's face without wavering, as though determined to ensure he caught every word, every hidden depth, despite their lingering puffiness from tears, their redness, their fragility, holding a faint, almost eerie calm.

"The surest way to shield you..." she breathed, her voice dipping lower, "...is to erase myself entirely... that's what I believed." She hesitated then, her fingers twitching faintly in her lap as her body seemed to buckle under the burden of her words, before she shook her head lightly, with a touch of doubt, "I'm not sure... perhaps because I realized you wouldn't act... if you refused to punish me... then maybe I had to do it myself..." Her voice quivered a bit there, as if she herself questioned the logic, yet it was the impulse that had gripped her then, the force that propelled her. A soft exhale escaped her, her shoulders slumping as though surrendering to the weariness of her inner turmoil.

"And... there might have been more causes as well..." she pressed on deliberately, her tone shifting inward, more disjointed as she unraveled her tangled feelings, "Guilt...? Regret...? Shame over my actions...? Craving punishment... perhaps? Self-loathing... maybe fury... or simply a desire to flee the heartache..." Her gaze wavered briefly, her face growing taut, "...perhaps dread... dread of your hatred... fear that no effort of mine would suffice..." Her lips quivered faintly, "...aware that any future I dreamed of with you... any vision I held..." she halted again, swallowing softly, "...could never come true... since nothing I attempt... could erase what I've done... I'd never merit forgiveness..." Yet amid all this, despite her raw admissions, a different glint emerged in her look, something gentler, nearly clashing.

"And then..." she added, her voice fading lower, "...witnessing your kindness toward me... even after all that..." Her brows furrowed a touch, bewilderment blending with deeper sentiment, "...you declared you forgave me... so easily... like it meant nothing... just to soothe me since I seemed to be in pain?.." A weak, brittle smile touched her lips, though it failed to light her eyes.

"How... could I not attempt something like that... after seeing you this way?" she breathed, her stare warming more as she regarded him, "...I realized... if I remained... I'd wound you once more... and that..." her tone nearly cracked, but she held firm, "...is the last thing I ever wish to inflict." Silence followed, her gaze locked on his, her face serene yet achingly vulnerable, as if she'd stripped herself bare, offering every truth without reserve, each phrase not mere justification but raw admission.

Sofia, positioned close by, stayed silent, motionless, holding back any words, knowing nothing she uttered would fit, and as she absorbed Maria's words, truly grasping not only the surface but the profound intent beneath, she sensed it vividly: the vastness of her remorse, the fervor of her feelings, the genuineness in all she was saying.