I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 420: I Am NOT

"Your mother... is a goddess?" Razeal's voice emerged, hushed. It was too low for anyone else to fully grasp its significance, yet an edge, absent before, underscored the whisper. A silent crack in his tone revealed far more than spoken words. As he slowly pivoted his head to face Sofia, his gaze locked onto her, no longer indifferent but intensely searching, probing, as if attempting to strip away layers from her, to glimpse beyond her presented self into something deeper, concealed. His normally steady eyes held a faint, unmistakable tremor, a subtle ripple beneath calm waters.

"And you decided that wasn't crucial enough to share? Even after I revealed everything to you?" he inquired, equally soft, but the question hung in the air, heavier this time. It wasn't merely the information itself, but the timing of its revelation, the context, and crucially, the source.

A profound sense of wrongness settled upon him, an unsettling feeling he couldn't rationalize. The very person who had stood by him without hesitation, without demanding proof, who had believed him simply based on his word, meeting his gaze directly... this same individual had withheld such significant information. And he hadn't learned it from her, but from Riven, of all people. From someone he regarded as nearly an adversary. The mere thought caused an internal twist, quiet yet sharp.

What is this...? The question materialized silently in his mind as he observed her, his expression outwardly composed, yet his thoughts in turmoil. Is this mere coincidence... or something more? His life hadn't been uncomplicated; nothing had ever occurred without a purpose. He knew this better than anyone. Could this be a deliberate arrangement? he pondered, his gaze intensifying slightly. Something meticulously planned... by them? Perhaps by the gods? The notion wasn't far-fetched anymore, not after all he had endured, not after realizing the pervasive influence of fate and manipulation in his existence.

Was she destined to approach me... merely to...? The thought remained unfinished, unspoken, as he hesitated to fully articulate it. Yet, its implication hung heavy and suffocating. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of pain, almost imperceptible, crossed his eyes. It was restrained, not dramatic, a sensation he had evidently learned to suppress over time. His life had taught him one harsh lesson: nothing good ever came to him without a price.

There's a saying... even the wind favors those it's destined to carry.

And he knew his own destiny; he had witnessed and understood it. Therefore, inevitably, there had to be a reason, a cause behind everything that had unfolded with such apparent ease – her arrival...

For instance... Why did their marriage materialize so seamlessly?

Why did every circumstance align perfectly and effortlessly? To the point where it defied logic?

Why did she declare him her soulmate?

His eyes remained fixed on her a moment longer, a tableau of searching, questioning, and doubt, yet clinging to a sliver of hope that refused to shatter completely.

Sofia, conversely, needed no words to comprehend his internal struggle. She saw it reflected in his eyes, in the altered way he looked at her – the doubt, the hurt, the silent accusation, unspoken but palpable. Her chest tightened as she grasped his line of thinking. 'I should have told him sooner...' the thought surfaced immediately, sharp with regret. She understood how this appeared, especially considering his past experiences. Before he could descend further into his spiraling thoughts, she spoke, her voice soft yet resolute.

"Sigh... I should have explained this to you earlier," she confessed, her gaze meeting his steadily. "But believe me... this is not what you're assuming, nor is it the entirety of what's unfolding in your mind right now..." she added, shaking her head slightly, attempting to ground him before his thoughts carried him too far astray.

"Just trust me... I will explain everything to you... later," she continued. Even as she spoke, her eyes darted briefly towards Riven, then to the others, acknowledging the precarious situation they still found themselves in. She let out a quiet exhale.

"This isn't the appropriate time or place," she concluded, her tone calm but edged with urgency. She could sense the fragility of the moment; mishandled, it could fracture into something far more dire.

Her hand extended tentatively, gliding towards his arm with the intention of offering comfort and stability. However, the response was immediate and deeply ingrained. Razeal withdrew his arm slightly, not with force or aggression, but just enough to prevent contact. This subtle movement conveyed more than any words could, as it wasn't a conscious rejection but a deep-seated reflex, an impulse his body acted upon before his mind could even process it.

Sofia's hand hung in the air for a fleeting moment before she slowly retracted it. Her gaze dipped momentarily to her own hand, a quiet sadness briefly crossing her features, before she met his eyes once more.

"Yes, we will," Razeal finally stated, his voice regaining its steadiness and control, though not entirely unchanged. He momentarily surveyed the others present before returning his focus to Sofia. "We'll discuss this," he affirmed with a nod, "Properly." His tone then shifted subtly, not harsh or accusatory, but laden with significance.

"And... I hope... you won't disappoint me either..." With those words, the physical distance between them, though minimal, felt vastly amplified.

Sofia drew a quiet breath, her fingertips lightly grazing her palm as she steadied herself. She lifted her gaze again. "You're misunderstanding everything," she stated, her voice firmer now, yet still composed. Her eyes met his directly, determined not to let doubt fester unchecked like this.

"Perhaps," Razeal responded simply. The word was brief, almost dismissive, yet the manner in which he uttered it made his skepticism clear. He remained unconvinced, his thoughts already drifting elsewhere despite the neutrality of his tone.

A brief silence followed, a moment where neither pressed the issue, leaving the tension to linger unresolved between them. Sofia then exhaled softly and steered the conversation in a new direction. Her expression tightened slightly as another matter resurfaced in her thoughts, something that had been set aside but had not vanished.

"Leave that for now," she declared, her tone growing more serious and focused. "First... tell me this." Her gaze fixed on his again, sharper this time. "What did he mean... when he said you've died millions of times?" The question that had hung over them all since Riven spoke it was finally voiced, the one none of them could ignore, as it transcended a mere statement to become something far beyond ordinary comprehension.

Sofia looked at him with a gravity she couldn't fully comprehend herself. A quiet weight settled in her gaze, as if she were trying to grasp something far beyond normal understanding. Truthfully, she didn't understand why such a notion had even entered her mind. It wasn't something one was meant to comprehend, or even imagine – perhaps the human mind was simply incapable of conceiving it? Right?

Like...?

To perish once was already an unfathomable threshold. But to die millions of times? What would such an experience entail? What kind of suffering would accumulate within someone who had endured death repeatedly? Would each demise carry its own distinct pain, its own unique fear, its own particular imprint of trauma? Or would the sheer repetition erode the experience into something hollow, devoid of all emotion?

And more disturbingly, could a human mind possibly survive such an existence?

Sofia struggled to reconcile the concept. Psychologically, it seemed an impossibility. No individual could endure such a magnitude of repeated endings without completely fracturing, without losing their sense of self, their sanity, their very connection to the essence of being alive. The idea itself was horrifying, not due to its clarity, but precisely because of its lack of definition. It lingered in the unknown, in a realm where suffering was limitless and identity lacked any stability.

She couldn't picture it. Not truly. And perhaps that was the source of her greatest fear. She was so utterly confused that she couldn't bring herself to believe it. But then again... she was aware of the fact that Gods cannot die...

At that moment, the weight of Riven's words seemed to descend upon everyone present, an oppressive, heavy, invisible pressure. Maria, Nancy, Levy, Aurora, and Yograj stood in stunned silence, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and utter bewilderment, incapable of reconciling what they had just heard with any known logic.

It wasn't merely shocking; it sounded utterly impossible, yet it had been spoken with such conviction that none of them could outright dismiss it. Slowly, almost instinctively, their gazes all shifted back towards a single individual: Razeal.

Razeal initially bypassed their gazes, his attention ensnared by Sofia. He studied her countenance with an unusual stillness, a surface fragility hinting at a deeper search. It was as if he sought a specific confirmation or denial from her expression, something to either quell or ignite the tempest within his mind. What he perceived, however, offered no solace; her eyes, once symbols of his unwavering trust, now swam with a tumultuous blend of emotions. Concern was undeniable, genuine fear was subtly present, and beneath it all, an unguarded sorrow seemed to lie.

This alone caused his gaze to falter. He recoiled from this unwanted revelation, unwilling to delve deeper or acknowledge its potential implications, as if confronting it would confirm a truth he was not yet prepared to face.

"Is this true?" Maria's voice sliced through the charged silence, her tone steady yet heavy. When Razeal's eyes shifted to her, he found a similar, perhaps even more intense and direct, expression. Her blue eyes held his captive, demanding not merely verbal confirmation but a holistic acknowledgment.

Razeal remained silent, the quiet stretching, thickening. His gaze swept past Levy, Aurora, and Yograj. While their reactions lacked the overt intensity of the others, an understated yet palpable sentiment resided in their eyes—a quiet judgment, or perhaps something more painful: pity.

This unspoken sentiment caused him to momentarily close his eyes. He recognized it instantly, even in its faintness, its subtlety. And he despised it.

He slowly reopened his eyes.

Finally, his gaze returned to Sofia. For a fleeting second, an unreadable flicker crossed his features before he spoke, a slight shake of his head accompanying his words. "No... it isn't," he stated, his voice calm, controlled, almost dismissive, as though brushing the entire matter aside.

"He is lying," Razeal affirmed with a single nod, a gesture that seemed to confirm the statement not only to them but to himself as well.

Sofia, however, did not concede, not even for an instant. "Gods do not lie... and you know this," she countered immediately, her voice sharpening, not with aggression, but with a grounded firmness rooted in her convictions. Her eyes remained fixed on him, attempting to steer him away from a path he seemed intent on treading.

Razeal's expression shifted minimally, though his gaze hardened almost imperceptibly. "I said he is," he replied, his tone carrying a new weight. It wasn't loud or forceful, but resolute. "So now... Who are you going to believe?" he posed directly to her. "A god... or me?"

The question, deceptively simple, held a profound depth. It transcended mere truth, probing the very core of trust. Sofia felt its sting, the implication resonating immediately. Her composure faltered for a mere fraction of a second before she spoke again, her voice softer yet no less serious.

"I know you are hurt," she said, her voice steady, imbued with genuine concern. "I can see it... because I did not tell you about my mother," she admitted without evasion. "But believe me... there is nothing like what you are thinking," she continued, shaking her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. "I did not even know about your fate... or your problems with the gods... until just a few hours ago," she added, her tone earnest, bordering on pleading.

"There was no plan... no involvement from anyone above." She took a small breath before continuing, "I did not tell you because... it was not the right time," she conveyed honestly. "But I was going to." Her voice tightened slightly. "You cannot possibly think... that I married you because my mother told me to... just to keep an eye on you... can you?" The question she had hesitated to ask now hung in the air, a necessary inquiry born from her perception of his descending thoughts.

Razeal regarded her for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, he exhaled softly. "You know what? I don't care," he stated, his tone reverting to an almost indifferent, dismissive quality, as if he had reached an internal conclusion.

"It's fine... even if you had other intentions," he added, a silent nod seemingly sealing the matter internally, not through resolution, but through his deliberate choice to set it aside for the present.

Then his gaze moved to Riven, his expression tightening slightly. "And as for him... spouting this nonsense," he continued, a subtle edge entering his voice, "you can’t possibly believe it," he stated, casting a brief glance back at Sofia.

"Someone dying millions of times? That’s utterly ridiculous..." he scoffed, a light sound. "He’s just trying to get back at me," his eyes darted toward Riven once more. "Because he can’t accept what I did," he added, "That it was justified... that their actions naturally led to those consequences." After a short pause, his tone softened.

"And even if..." he started, his voice dropping. "Even if... let's hypothetically say it were true," his tone shifted then, not in defense nor aggression, but becoming more remote, more detached. "What purpose does it serve to inquire about it?" he asked, his gaze unfocused, not settling on anyone. "What has been done... is done," a strange, almost unsettling calmness resonating in his words.

"If anything... it merely proves my strength," he pressed on. "That I possessed sufficient reasons... to endure that kind of hell," the corners of his lips lifted slightly, less than a smile. "And yet I still stand here." Finally, his gaze returned to encompass them all, his demeanor composed once more.

"So whatever you're perceiving now... whatever you see in those looks and eyes," he declared, his voice unwavering, "don't," a single word carrying immense finality.

"I am not a person to be pitied," he declared. "Not for what I have endured... nor for what I have committed,"

"I am not— no matter which narrative you choose to embrace."

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