I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 418: Dimension Eye

Rivens POV

"You’re not a god." Nancy’s voice cut through the air, sharp despite the weakness that clung to her body. Each word was forced out with deliberate effort, trembling not from doubt but from sheer exhaustion and a burning fury. "You’re something far worse than a monster," she continued, her breath catching in ragged gasps as her chest heaved with strained effort. "You don’t even deserve to be called human... let alone a god." Her eyes remained locked on his face, though her body slumped against the cold stone behind her, her muscles barely responding to her will.

"You’re… just disgusting." Every syllable carried the weight of not just anger, but rejection, defiance – everything she had left to give in that moment. Her gaze blazed with raw hatred, a fire that refused to be extinguished no matter how frail she had become.

Through it all, Riven remained suspended in the air, floating slightly above the ground. He was calm, composed, a gentle smile gracing his lips as if her words had not even grazed him, as if her hatred was a variable he had already factored in long before she voiced it.

"You’re still smiling?" Nancy's voice was a low murmur, her lips twisting into a disgusted grimace. Her brows furrowed as she regarded him, seeing not a divine being, but something incomprehensible, something profoundly wrong. "How… how can someone even have the audacity to stand there, claim to be a god… and then act like this?" Her voice cracked slightly, not from fear, but from sheer disbelief at the scene unfolding before her. To her, there was nothing divine about the figure before her, only something disturbingly detached from all that was human.

"I’m smiling," Riven replied, his tone soft and almost reassuring, a stark contrast to her hostility. "Because I know I am right." His expression remained gentle, unoffended, as if her insults were merely expected reactions. "And you… you’re speaking from ignorance." He continued, his voice devoid of harshness, carrying only quiet certainty.

"You lack the knowledge required to comprehend what you are questioning," his gaze stayed steady upon her. "What you’re asking… what you’re accusing… these are not novel inquiries." He proceeded, his voice smooth, almost patient. "They are among the most common sentiments directed towards beings like myself." He tilted his head slightly, the smile never leaving his face.

"Are you asking… if I am a god, why don’t I prevent all crime? Why do I permit suffering when I supposedly possess the power to eradicate it?" He paused briefly, allowing the unspoken question to hang in the space between them. "Is that not the core of your inquiry? Am I correct?" he finished, his tone unchanged and completely unbothered. This was despite her earlier pronouncements, the insults that painted him as worse than a monster, something unworthy of humanity. Words that, for most beings, would have ignited fury, offense, or retaliation, especially for one claiming divinity – where even devoted followers might have reacted with violence on his behalf. Yet, Riven remained still, composed, utterly untouched.

Nancy didn’t offer an immediate reply. Her jaw clenched as she continued to stare at him, her eyes like daggers, filled only with hatred and defiance. Her body remained pressed against the unyielding stone, her breathing still uneven, but her unwavering gaze held firm.

Riven observed her for a moment before giving a small, almost understanding nod, as if acknowledging her silence as a natural part of the process. He then continued on his own, "So, here is the truth." His tone shifted subtly, becoming not harsher, but more direct.

"Yes… I am a god," he stated plainly. "And yes… you are correct in a certain sense." he admitted. "If we desired to… we could put a stop to most crimes." His eyes remained calm. "Given sufficient time… we could even eliminate all suffering, all injustice, all violence within your world." He spoke as if describing something technically achievable. "But we do not." he added simply. There was no apology in his voice, no hesitation, just a statement of fact. "And there are reasons for this."

He pressed on.

"One of those reasons is… free will." The words were spoken with quiet emphasis. "If gods were to intervene in every action… control every outcome… prevent every transgression… then no being would truly possess free will." His gaze softened slightly. "And to us… that holds the utmost importance." he explained. "Because the universe itself selects individuals… grants them paths, roles, choices."

He made a slight gesture.

"And what matters is not how you utilize your free will… but that you possess it." he concluded, his tone calm, almost philosophical. "How you exercise it… whether for good or ill… is not something we dictate." he said, as if that very distinction justified everything."Hah...!" Nancy uttered a strained, near-broken laugh, her lips quivering as a mixture of disbelief and fury contorted her features. "Free will?" she echoed, her voice climbing slightly, betraying her weakened state. "That’s your excuse?" A faint shake of her head accompanied her words, her expression twisting in sheer frustration. "You just... stand there... do nothing... and you call it ’free will’?" Her eyes blazed with an almost searing intensity. "And then you anticipate people bowing down in worship? Calling you benevolent? Declaring you righteous?" Her breathing grew rapid, her voice sharp. "From my perspective... that isn’t divine... that’s utterly repulsive," she retorted, the raw emotion palpable in her tone. "If a child... an innocent child... were being murdered right before your eyes..." she continued, her words gradually slowing as the horrific image materialized in her mind, her expression hardening. "...a child who has done absolutely nothing wrong... possesses no power... no recourse..." Her voice began to tremble, not from physical frailty, but from the profound weight of her declaration. "Wouldn’t a god intervene?" she demanded, her gaze piercingly fixed on his. "What transgressions has that child committed?" she pressed, her tone laced with desperation yet brimming with defiance. "What actions warrant such a fate?" Nancy harbored no genuine belief that Riven was a deity. To her, he appeared to be someone afflicted with a god complex... perhaps even a psychopath. Nevertheless, her sole objective at this moment was to dissuade him from his perceived madness. She aimed to convince him that a true God would not behave in such a manner, that his current actions were far from divine. Perhaps... if she could somehow instill in him the conviction that a genuine god would offer aid... then, assuming he truly viewed himself as divine, he might extend that help to her. And possibly... just possibly... he would cease whatever heinous acts he was contemplating. "It’s not an excuse... not truly," Riven responded softly, shaking his head with a patience that seemed almost incongruous given her palpable anger. His tone remained placid, unshaken, as though he weren’t engaged in an argument but rather attempting to elucidate a concept he believed she was incapable of fully comprehending at present. "Free will is... significant," he reiterated, though a subtle hesitation entered his voice this time. It was as if he recognized that mere words wouldn’t penetrate her defenses, that this was not something she would readily accept simply by being informed. Consequently, with deliberate slowness, he shifted his legs, uncrossing them in mid-air as his body began its graceful descent. His feet made contact with the stone floor with a quiet, almost definitive finality. He then commenced walking towards her, each step unhurried and measured, until he stood directly before her. He was close enough now for her to feel his presence more acutely. Instead of towering over her or asserting dominance, he crouched down, bringing himself to her eye level. His expression retained that same composed, almost gentle smile. "Allow me to pose a question," he said quietly, his gaze steady upon hers. "Envision... right here, before your very eyes... a crime unfolding," his voice lowered slightly, carefully enunciated, as if guiding her through the hypothetical scenario. "An individual is on the verge of taking another’s life," he began, then paused, observing her reaction. He noted the slight flicker in her eyes and then, as if reconsidering his approach, adjusted the example, his tone deepening further. "No... let us say... someone is about to be subjected to rape," he stated, the word hanging heavily in the air between them, his eyes remaining locked with hers. "And you possess the ability to intervene," he continued. "With no repercussions... no inherent risks... nothing impeding you," his voice remained calm, almost detached. "Would you halt it?" he inquired, presenting the question as something simple, something patently obvious. Nancy stared at him, her expression instantly tightening, her brow furrowing as if she couldn’t fathom why he would even pose such an absurd question. *Of course, I would,* the answer sprang to her mind, so self-evident it felt almost insulting that he had presented it as a query. She parted her lips to reply, but he subtly interrupted her, raising a hand slightly, not with abruptness, but just enough to halt her. "Wait," he said gently. "Before you offer your response... understand this crucial point," his gaze unwavering. "Should you prevent that person’s actions... you are irrevocably stripping them of their free will," he declared, his tone firm, as if articulating an immutable law. "And that inherent free will... is the rightful prerogative of every sentient being," he added. "Bestowed by the very fabric of the cosmic order," Following a brief pause, he leaned forward infinitesimally, his voice softening while simultaneously sharpening in its underlying intent. "Now... keeping that in consideration... inform me," he asked once more, "Would you still intervene and prevent their actions?" And for a fleeting moment

Nancy faltered, not because her answer had changed, but because the way he phrased the question introduced something unsettling, something she disagreed with, yet found herself processing. A flicker of doubt crossed her features before they hardened once more, her resolve returning. No matter how he twisted it, her answer remained the same. She was on the verge of saying yes, but before the word could escape her lips...

Riven offered another faint smile. “If your answer is yes… then you are not worthy of being a god,” he stated calmly, as if he had already heard her unspoken reply. “Because by doing so… you would be committing a greater crime,” his words fell without hesitation. “Taking someone’s freedom.”

“And believe me, free will… is a far greater violation than any other act. Even rape. Possessing the power to overpower someone’s freewill and knowingly using it is a crime,” he said, chuckling as he peered deeply into her eyes.

For a moment, silence reigned before…

Nancy let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

“Fhaaa..!” It escaped her almost involuntarily, her head shaking slightly as if she couldn’t even grasp the absurdity of his words. Her lips curled into a bitter, sarcastic smile.

Riven, however, remained unaffected by her mockery, continuing as if it hadn’t interrupted him at all.

“That person would eventually be punished,” he said, his tone still even. “By society… or by the cosmic order itself if not society,” he added. “You see, there are systems in place for that.” His eyes remained calm.

“But that responsibility… is not ours,” he concluded. “Gods do not interfere when a being is exercising their free will.”

“Haha… right,” Nancy muttered under her breath, her voice drenched in sarcasm as she shook her head again. Her disbelief morphed into something sharper, something angrier. “So much for being a god,” she added, her tone cutting and dismissive.

This time, Riven let out a quiet sigh, a faint exhale that conveyed not frustration, but a kind of resigned understanding. “Listen,” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “There is something you need to understand.” He continued.

“First of all… your morality… that does not come from gods,” he stated plainly.

“It comes from you… from beings like you,” his gaze remained steady. “Gods… have larger responsibilities,” he added. “And interfering with free will… is not one of them.”

And that was finally enough…

Nancy’s expression shifted completely, the last vestiges of disbelief burning away into pure anger. Her body trembled slightly as she pushed herself a little more upright against the stone, her eyes blazing as she looked at him. “Crime is crime,” she snapped, her voice stronger now despite her condition. “And if you can stop it… and you don’t… then you’re part of it,” her words came out faster now, sharper, each one fueled by conviction.

“If I stand there and watch someone get raped… and do nothing… then I’m worse than the one committing it,” she said, her breathing uneven but her voice unwavering. “And you? As you claim to be a god,” she continued, her eyes narrowing…

“Are you telling me, one way or another, that you’ve witnessed countless crimes… and done nothing?” Her lips trembled slightly, not from weakness but from the intensity of her feelings. “And that makes you complicit in every single one of them,” she accused, her voice rising. “Every act… every victim… every suffering you could have prevented but didn’t,” her chest rose sharply as she inhaled.

“And if this is how you think… if this is what being a ‘god’ means…” her voice dropped slightly, but the hatred within it only deepened. “Then I don’t need any lessons from you,” she said, her gaze unflinching. “Or from anyone like you.” And then, her jaw tightening, her voice breaking into something harsher, more raw.

“Damn the gods,” she spat. “Fuck the gods,” the words tumbled out without restraint now, fueled by everything she had been suppressing. “What’s the point of them?” she demanded, her voice quivering with anger. “If they do nothing when people are suffering… when I’m suffering… Now…” her fists clenched weakly at her sides. “The next time I see a church… or anything preaching about gods…” her lips curled into a bitter, almost broken smile.

“…I’ll burn it to the ground,” she declared, her voice low but laced with venom. “If gods won’t intervene… then what’s the purpose of their existence?” she finished, her eyes locked onto his. “Just to brainwash innocent people?” In that moment, her gaze held no fear, only defiance, only rejection, only the raw, unfiltered refusal to accept the world he was portraying.

"Gods do not establish morality," Riven corrected her with a quietude that was almost unnatural against her fury. His tone remained steady, imbued with a serene certainty. "They merely reveal what is possible... what is the superior path," he elaborated, his voice gentle yet precise. "This allows beings like you to exercise your free will in the most effective manner." Even after enduring her onslaught of anger, hatred, and outright rejection, his expression remained unblemished, his faint smile unwavering—not a smirk of arrogance, but one of unsettling resolve.

"Whatever..." Nancy mumbled, her voice strained, her body still propped against the cold stone as if it were her only support. Her head drooped slightly before she compelled herself to meet his gaze, her eyes blazing with defiance despite her profound exhaustion. "Just stay away from me," she commanded, her tone now sharp, cutting through her weariness.

"I simply wish to hear no more from individuals like yourself," her lips quivered, not from fear, but from indignation, from rejection. "You should simply perish," she stated bluntly, her eyes locked onto him with an intensity that belied her weakened condition.

Riven observed her for a moment, then offered a slight, contemplative shake of his head, as if her words had confirmed a pre-existing notion rather than caused offense. His smile persisted, unchanged, before he turned his back to her, walking once more toward the heart of the space where the enigmatic object hovered.

An eye, suspended in the air, enveloped by a subtle darkness that defied the nature of shadow, feeling more profound, more layered. Its surface reflected a faint luminescence, like scattered starlight trapped within its depths—a minuscule, spherical void that seemed simultaneously inert and vibrantly alive.

He advanced slowly, almost with reverence, extending a hand as if to make contact. Yet, as his fingers reached out, they halted mere inches away, perpetually short, as though an unseen barrier repelled his touch. No matter how near he drew, contact remained impossible. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible quality to his hovering fingers, a minute tension in his wrist that hinted that even he, with all his proclaimed might, could not breach that boundary, for it was not his prerogative to do so.

"Do you comprehend its nature?" he inquired suddenly, his back still to her, his voice echoing faintly in the silent expanse.

Nancy offered no reply. Her gaze remained fixed upon him, but her lips were pressed tightly together. Her silence was a deliberate act of defiance. In her mind, he had already forfeited any argument he sought to win. This sudden shift felt like nothing more than an evasive maneuver, a deflection to change the subject because he could no longer justify his position. She refused to engage further, not due to an inability, but out of sheer, unadulterated rejection.

Conversely, for Riven, the situation was entirely different. He had already concluded that her intellect was insufficient for her to grasp the rationale behind his discourse. Her sole concern was morality—whether an action constituted a transgression. His perspective, the crux of his argument, centered on a different principle. For him, such moral considerations were irrelevant to the divine. What truly mattered was free will.

He had articulated this already, and she had failed to reach that understanding. Consequently, he chose to let the matter rest.

Riven remained motionless for a beat, then slowly retracted his hand from the invisible threshold, letting it fall to his side as if the inability to touch the object caused him no concern whatsoever.

"You have observed my interactions with this for... what, approximately a fortnight?" he mused, his tone reflecting consideration, almost casualness. "Therefore, I presume you possess at least a modicum of curiosity," he added, tilting his head slightly as if contemplating her viewpoint. "Even if you are unwilling to acknowledge it."

"I am indifferent," Nancy responded weakly, her voice softer now. This reduction in volume was not due to diminished conviction, but rather a consequence of her body’s inability to sustain the previous intensity.

Riven paused, then tilted his head further, as if assessing her reply, before ultimately disregarding it as inconsequential. He chose not to attribute any significance to her words.

"This," he declared, raising a finger to indicate the floating artifact as he turned partially back towards her, "is what we deities refer to as a Dimensional Eye." His voice underwent a subtle alteration, shifting from pride or reverence to a tone of measured fascination, as if even he did not fully comprehend its nature. "Indeed, even we... gods... do not entirely grasp its essence," he conceded, his gaze drifting back to the object.

"Is it an artifact? A weapon? A living organ? Or perhaps something else entirely..." He paused, his words trailing off as if the existing classifications were inadequate. "We remain uncertain," he concluded simply. "But w