I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 423: Razeal x Nova

"What?" Riven let out a soft, almost amused exhale, lifting both hands slightly as if to ward off an accusation, his tone carrying that same infuriating lightness. "You know I can’t lie... it really happened just like that. Perhaps blame your luck... or whatever curse consistently follows you around." He tilted his head, glancing briefly at the portal that was still fading above. "I was only intending to bring that kid." His eyes flickered back to Razeal, observing him with keen attention. "Perhaps... this is what destiny has ordained."

He uttered this as if it explained all. As if it justified everything.

And even though he was under no obligation to explain himself, owed no one anything... he still did. Not stemming from guilt or necessity. But because, deep within... he reveled in it. The disruption. The fracturing. The way things had suddenly become more... complex for Razeal...

Although...

Why hadn't he considered this possibility earlier? That was the single regret he held.

Razeal, however, offered no response.

He didn't even acknowledge Riven's presence.

He had already resolved that whatever Riven uttered was not worth his attention. Not now, and certainly not ever.

Instead, he turned.

Toward the voice that had summoned his name.

His gaze settled upon her... upon those deep, royal purple strands of hair that cascaded behind her like a silent waterfall, upon those sharp eyes that now seemed to have lost their edge... Now appearing to hold profound sorrow, pain, and guilt... All so undeniably evident...

Yes, it was Nova.

"You... you’re alright," she whispered, her voice soft, almost fragile in stark contrast to the poised demeanor she had displayed moments before. Her hand, which had been resting on the hilt of her sword, slowly descended, releasing her grip completely as she began to approach him. Each step was measured, hesitant, stemming not from fear, but from something much more profoundly personal.

"And you’re here..." she continued, her breathing uneven, as if she were still trying to convince herself of the reality of the situation. "You’ve returned..."

She drew nearer.

Closer and closer.

And Razeal remained motionless.

Positioned behind Razeal.

"Who is she?" Sofia leaned slightly towards Maria, her voice reduced to the faintest whisper, taking care not to attract notice. Her eyes darted between Nova and Razeal, registering the palpable tension.

She had observed Razeal's silent, unmoving gaze directed at Nova, sensing something significant there... something heavy. It wasn't warmth. It wasn't relief. It bore a closer resemblance to annoyance... or a deep weariness. As if her very presence was enough to stir an unpleasant sensation within him.

Maria hesitated.

"That’s... his sister," she replied quietly. "Nova Virelan."

Even as she spoke, an element of uncertainty tinged her tone. Not regarding Nova's identity, but concerning the current situation. Questioning whether this reunion... this meeting... was indeed a positive development.

Upon hearing this, Sofia fell silent.

The realization dawned upon her subtly, yet with significant weight. She looked at Nova once more, her perspective now altered. And then she remained silent. Because now... it all made sense. The tension. The suffocating atmosphere that had abruptly enveloped everything.

"Go. You can go speak with your brother..." Razeal stated, his voice slicing through the charged moment as if he had just emerged from some distant reverie. He turned slightly, addressing Nancy who stood beside him, his tone neutral yet deliberate.

Nancy blinked, momentarily taken aback as she looked at him.

Then her gaze shifted from him...

To Nova.

And a discernible change swept across her expression.

Previously, she had held respect for Nova. Even admiration. She had perceived her as strong... composed... someone who truly embodied the image she projected.

But now...

Now that she was aware of the truth... aware of how Nova had readily believed the falsehoods, had succumbed to the manipulations woven by Celestia and Selena without question, without even detecting that something was amiss, that image had fractured.

It wasn't anger.

Nor was it quite disappointment.

Merely... a quiet erosion of her esteem.

As if something she had once held in high regard had proven to be less than she had believed. She must be regretting that now? Isn't she? Nancy pondered to herself.

"Alright..." Nancy responded softly, her voice maintaining a semblance of steadiness, though her thoughts were anything but calm.

Then...

She pivoted.

And fled.

Her movement was sudden, almost abrupt, as if an internal switch had been flicked, propelling her into action all at once. Her steps were swift, urgent, driven not by fear, but by something far more profound. An irresistible pull. A compelling need.

Her eyes immediately found him.

Areon.

He stood at a distance, still attempting to process the unfolding events around him, his gaze shifting between the various figures, his expression a mixture of confusion and apprehension. For nearly two months, he had been searching for her with relentless desperation. Without any certainty. Without answers. Only the persistent question that refused to abandon him...

Where is she? Is she alright? What transpired leading to her disappearance?

And now...

He finally saw her.

His entire focus narrowed upon her the instant she came into his line of sight, accelerating directly towards him.

"Nancy.."

His words were cut short. He couldn’t even finish what he intended to say. Because she had already appeared before him.

Nancy didn’t even hesitate; she lunged forward, flinging herself into his embrace. Her arms clasped around him with fierce desperation, as if clinging to him was the only way to anchor herself, terrified that if she let go, she might lose this precious moment again.

A brief pause ensued.

Just a fraction of a second.

During which a subtle hesitation stirred within her.

An almost invisible, tiny shield erected itself.

For she understood now. She had gained knowledge she never possessed before.

She knew that her brother, without even realizing it, had become entangled in something that posed a danger to her. She knew that fate itself had woven a narrative between them, something neither of them had chosen, something neither deserved, that could potentially transform him into a threat she might have to confront someday; if that wasn't already the case...

Yet, she also understood that this was not his intention.

Nor was it his decision.

But nevertheless...

It was a reality that existed.

"He hasn't done anything wrong..." her thoughts whispered softly, almost as if she were trying to convince herself. "This isn't his fault..."

And yet...

"I still need to be cautious..."

This internal conflict tightened painfully within her chest.

Because both truths coexisted, and neither could negate the other.

She yearned to close the distance between them, to eliminate this intangible barrier that had formed.

But it was there. Somehow.

This realization made everything feel more burdensome than it ought to have been. More intricate.

More agonizing.

Areon, however, remained oblivious to any of this internal turmoil.

The instant she collided with him, his arms encircled her with immediate firmness, a protective gesture that felt instinctive, like the most natural action in the world.

As if releasing her was not even an option.

His grip tightened subtly as an overwhelming surge of emotion coursed through him, raw and unfiltered.

He had found her.

After all this time.

After weeks of relentless searching, of agonizing uncertainty, of envisioning the worst-case scenarios, wondering if she was still alive, if she had been harmed, if he had already lost her without even knowing it...

And now… she was right here.

Alive.

In his arms.

His chest expanded sharply as he held her close, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hand pressed gently against her back, as if grounding himself in the sheer reality of her presence.

"You’re… you’re okay…" His voice emerged, low and trembling, though he attempted to steady it. It was as if vocalizing the words would make the reality more concrete.

And Nancy…

Despite all the fortitude she had displayed until this very moment…

Despite everything she had endured in solitude…

Despite all the truths she carried within, all the pain she had buried merely to press onward…

Ultimately, she was still just a young girl. A girl who yearned for someone. Someone she didn’t have to constantly consider. Someone she didn’t need to guard herself against.

Someone with whom she could simply… exist.

And in this particular moment,

That person was him.

Her brother.

The sole sanctuary that still felt like home.

The composure she had meticulously maintained for so long, the calm, controlled strength she had presented to Riven, striving not to weep or reveal any trace of her vulnerability…

It began to fracture.

Then it shattered.

Completely.

Her fingers tightened slightly against his back, a stronger grip taking hold as her breathing faltered. The immense burden she had been carrying—the fear, the bewilderment, the agony, the sheer exhaustion of holding everything together—

It all erupted simultaneously.

She could no longer contain it.

And within his arms,

Nancy relinquished her struggle to remain strong.

The tender reunion between Nancy and Areon unfolded, laden with restrained emotions and the silent weight of unspoken complexities.

Meanwhile, behind them,

Razeal and Nova stood facing each other after an extensive period.

"Well," Razeal finally spoke, his voice resonating with that familiar, unnerving calmness. Both his hands were casually tucked into his pockets, as if the situation demanded no effort whatsoever from him. "It was never part of my plan to see you… or to encounter you." A subtle, yet unmistakably present, smile graced his lips as his gaze fixed upon her, steady, analytical, and tinged with amusement.

"But here we are." He released a quiet exhalation that nearly formed a soft chuckle, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, as though the entire scenario struck him as amusing on a level far beyond mere words. "I suppose this is just another one of destiny's little jests… an attempt to spite me."

There was genuine humor in his tone, yet it was devoid of joy. It was sardonic, sharp with mockery, as if the very notion of fate seeking retribution against him was nothing short of laughable.

His eyes remained fixed on Nova as he spoke, scrutinizing her not as one might observe a long-lost sister, but rather like someone examining a piece moved onto a chessboard—unexpected, perhaps, but ultimately inconsequential.

Razeal had accepted Riven’s explanation. Not out of trust—that was out of the question—but because this situation… this didn’t feel like Riven’s handiwork. It was far too calculated, timed with uncanny precision, and exceedingly… convenient.

This felt different. A much more bothersome weight to it. Was it fate? Destiny? Or whatever invisible entity masqueraded as such when it pulled strings and played the innocent bystander. A quiet, almost amused chuckle escaped Razeal as he stood there, gazing at Nova.

So, this is your grand plan?

His gaze, the color of crimson, settled on Nova.

You believe this will make any difference to me?

To defy the world's laws, shatter its order, and tread a path no one else even dared to contemplate, and you think this... this is meant to be retribution?

Bringing her to this place?

The very notion struck him as almost insulting.

Or more accurately, disappointing.

Does it truly believe I will harbor regret? Halt my actions? Hesitate?

"What exactly do you think this will do to me...?" he murmured softly to himself,

genuinely curious. He then lifted his gaze fully towards her, that same faint smile gracing his lips.

"So?" he inquired, his voice smooth and conversational, as if discussing a mundane matter rather than standing amidst an unresolved and significant confrontation. "Are you here to lodge a complaint now?" His head tilted slightly, a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled sarcasm coloring his tone. "About how I manipulated you? Sent you to that churchyard?"

A brief pause ensued.

Then, with a softer, more pointed delivery.

"Or perhaps you intend to lecture me."

His eyes held hers, unwavering.

"About my actions against those people."

A subtle silence followed, brief yet deliberate.

"The ones I tortured and killed." His tone remained unchanged, devoid of remorse or justification, merely a statement of fact. "Or whatever version of events you prefer to believe."

Another low chuckle rumbled from him.

"Ah, well..." he added lightly, seemingly dismissing the gravity of his own words. "I imagine it must have been quite a spectacle for you." His lips curved faintly once more. "A beautiful scene, wasn't it?"

The sarcasm in his voice was palpable.

"Something so... repulsive." His gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. "For someone of your stature to witness."

He allowed that thought to settle for a moment.

"The esteemed Nova Virelan..." he continued, his tone dropping just enough to carry that familiar undertone of mockery. "From the renowned and respected Virelan lineage." A slight pause. "The one that commands the world's fear."

He observed her intently now.

It was as if he already anticipated her response, as if nothing about this situation was surprising him.

Nova, however...

Remained unmoving.

She had halted a few paces away from him, maintaining a quiet distance. Her stance was upright, composed – not stiff, but controlled in a manner that suggested practiced restraint rather than innate ease.

And throughout it all...

She uttered no word.

She simply met his gaze, listening.

Absorbing.

And... Enduring.

Noticing her lack of reaction, Razeal decided to press further.

"Or..." he proceeded, his voice shifting slightly, becoming less mocking and more probing, though the underlying sharpness persisted. "Is it something else?"

"Perhaps you're here to offer an explanation?" His eyes never left hers.

"To tell me you've finally grasped the truth?"

The atmosphere seemed to grow denser.

"That you were mistaken... and I was correct."

The words settled between them, laden with weight and intention.

"That... the truth has been revealed," he went on, his voice quieter but colder. "And you cannot accept it."

His gaze remained fixed.

"That the brilliant, intelligent Mastermind Nova Virelan..." his voice carried a subtle, cutting emphasis, "...who prided herself on understanding me... on correcting me... believing she comprehended everything..."

"...was wrong."

Silence descended once more.

"Deceived," he stated plainly. "By mere children."

The word hung in the air.

"And you believed them."

Utterly devoid of emotion.

Simply stating a fact.

"Even when the truth lay directly before you." His voice lowered slightly. "Even when I told you myself."

Another pause.

"But you refused to listen." Now, something beneath his calm demeanor surfaced.

Something sharper.

"Because you were too proud," he declared, the word landing with clean, unfiltered precision. "Too certain that if you believed yourself right... then you were."

Silence followed again,

stretching longer this time.

"So, what now?" he inquired, his tone reverting to the earlier calm curiosity, though it now felt more genuine. "Are you here to rectify things?"

He tilted his head slightly.

"To take me back?"

A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.

"Pack me up like a sack of potatoes and haul me back to that so-called home... because you cannot bear the thought that you were mistaken?" His eyes locked onto hers.

"Or, in other words, you've come here to stop me?"

There was no hint of sarcasm in that final question.

Solely curiosity.

Genuine, unadulterated curiosity.

Because beneath all the mockery, the indifference, the quiet disdain, he truly wished to ascertain.

What her purpose was in coming here.

What was destiny supposed to imply she should do?

What part had she anticipated being able to fulfill now?

His look held hers, waiting not with impatience, nor aggression, but with a profound stillness that inherently demanded a response.

Yet, Nova offered no reply.

Not instantaneously.

She remained stationary, a short distance separating them, her bearing resolute, her breaths measured. Her gaze stayed fixed upon him, not in defiance, nor in defeat, but simply... unyielding. She allowed him to voice his thoughts. To let each word strike its mark. To let every accusation settle in the space between them without any interjection.

And within that quietude

There resided a significant weight.

Not a void.

Not an attempt to evade.

But something held in check.

Something deliberately withheld.

Then,

When his speech finally ceased,

She made her move.

"I came..." her voice sliced through the silence, low but distinct, steady in a manner that conveyed power without needing amplification. Her eyes never disengaged from his. Not even for an instant. "To seek equilibrium."

The statement was uncomplicated.

Yet, it instigated a subtle alteration.

Almost imperceptible.

But undeniably present.

And subsequently,

With a faint shimmer that flickered from the ring adorning her finger.

In the subsequent moment, a whip materialized within her grasp.

It appeared with seamless grace, as if conjured from nothingness, its presence immediate and unmistakable. The hilt settled firmly in her grip, though her hand... a slight tremor ran through it.

Merely noticeable. Not significantly enough to compromise her hold.

But sufficient to betray the emotions churning beneath her composed exterior.

"Here..." she articulated, her voice maintaining its steadiness notwithstanding the subtle quiver in her fingers. She lifted the whip just enough for him to perceive it with clarity. "It is the very same whip."

A fleeting silence ensued.

"The one I wielded..." her grip intensified by a minute degree, as though grounding herself in that specific instant, "...to strike you."

The atmosphere seemed to suspend its motion.

"Before the entirety of the empire."

The declaration lacked any trace of pride.

No attempt at self-justification.

Merely the unvarnished truth.

"I preserved it," she elaborated, her tone growing softer but not diminished in strength. Her gaze remained locked with his, resolutely refusing to divert. "For you."

"And... For this very occasion."

And then,

She released her hold.

The whip departed from her hand in a controlled gesture, not hurled in anger, nor propelled by force, but executed with deliberate intent.

It descended.

Landing at Razeal’s feet with a quiet yet substantial thud, the coiled leather settling upon the ground between them.

A profound silence descended afterward.

Razeal’s gaze descended as well.

Gradually, towards the whip resting there. And for the initial time,

An unexpected expression appeared.

Not astonishment, strictly speaking.

Not precisely that.

But something closely akin to it, sufficient to disturb the composure he maintained.

His eyes remained fixed upon the object for a duration longer than was typical, as though he were processing not the item itself, but its symbolic significance.

Then,

With an equally measured pace,

He redirected his gaze back towards her.

And for the first time since their confrontation began,

There was no immediate retort.

No mocking grin.

No witty remark poised on the brink of his lips.

Only an absolute stillness.