I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 438: The Truth? Merisa?

"I was the one who helped Razeal escape that day." Marcella stated it flatly, her gaze unwavering, and as the words left her lips, she released her grip on Nova’s blade. Her fingers uncurled from the steel as if the weapon held no significance, her stance returning to a statuesque stillness, as if she had merely set down an object she had held for far too long.

For a moment, Nova remained frozen. She stood precisely where she was, sword still aloft, her eyes locked onto Marcella’s face, as if anticipating a correction, a revelation that the statement was something else, something less definitive. But the words held their meaning, and the truth began to seep in, fragment by fragment, fracturing the certainty Nova had clung to since entering the hall.

"...What did you just say?" Nova’s voice, no longer sharp with anger, wavered, caught between outright disbelief and a deeper disquiet, her mind seemingly unwilling to fully process what she had heard.

That single sentence wasn't an isolated remark; it connected backward, weaving through years of unanswered questions, that fateful night, and all that had transpired since. One of their most profound regrets was not only their actions that night but the subsequent ordeal, Razeal’s suffering beyond their reach, the unknown duration of his unprotected solitude. They had always believed that part was beyond their control, that they had lost him inexplicably, that he’d slipped through an impossible void. That helplessness had gnawed at them relentlessly. If only they had known his whereabouts... if he had remained within their grasp... if they could have protected him even after everything... then perhaps, just perhaps, things wouldn't have escalated so far.

And now, Marcella stood before them, revealing it wasn't some unknown accident.

It had been her.

Selena took an involuntary step back, her eyes widening as she fixed on Marcella. Her thoughts raced along a similar path, connecting Marcella’s confession with her prior beliefs.

"...You..." The word emerged as a faint whisper, nearly unfinished, as she struggled to assign it—accusation, confusion, or something else entirely.

Nova’s expression hardened once more, but the rage was different now, morphing into something volatile, caught between the urge to strike out and the desperate need for answers. In the next instant, she moved, raising her sword again, this time pressing the tip directly against Marcella’s neck. The edge rested lightly against her skin as Nova clenched her jaw.

"...You betrayed us?" she asked, each word strained through her tension, "All of us?"

Marcella remained motionless. She didn't raise a hand, didn't shift her stance, didn't even turn her head from the blade. She simply stood there, meeting Nova’s gaze with the same steady look, as if the threat was something she had already accepted the moment she decided to speak.

"Why?" Nova demanded, her voice rising now, shattering the restraint she had fought to maintain. "Why did you do that? Didn't you know what that meant? Do you even understand what happened afterward?" Her grip tightened on the sword, the edge pressing slightly harder against Marcella’s neck, yet not enough to break the skin, not yet. "We thought he was dead... we thought we lost him... we didn't know where he was... and all that time..." her voice broke, anger and pain colliding, making them indistinguishable, "WHY? WHY DID YOU NOT TELL US?"

Marcella didn't respond immediately.

She met Nova’s gaze without flinching, her expression unchanged. When she finally spoke, it wasn't to offer an explanation, not yet, but simply, "Calm down."

The words landed with a quiet finality against the storm of Nova's emotions, not dismissive, but firm, refusing to be drawn into the chaos.

"TELL ME!" Nova roared, her self-control completely fracturing. Her voice echoed through the hall as her body trembled with the sheer force of her anguish, rejecting any plea for calm, refusing to be slowed down. "WHY?"

"I won’t."

Marcella’s reply was just as direct, just as steady. That refusal struck Nova harder than any attempted explanation could have, for it denied her the very thing she craved in that moment.

Nova’s eyes widened, fury igniting anew. "You think I won't make you?" she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous low, "Tell me... or I will take it from you myself... I will tear it from your memories if I have to."

Marcella’s eyes narrowed slightly, a sharpening not of threat but of profound clarity as she met Nova’s gaze and posed a question: "And will that change anything?"

The inquiry seemed to alter the very atmosphere.

It pierced through the present intensity, not to extinguish it, but to disrupt its flow, instigating a crucial pause where none had existed before.

"He despises all of us," Marcella’s voice remained steady, devoid of accusation or harshness, merely stating an undeniable truth, "And he has every right to."

No defense was offered for this statement. No attempt to diminish its weight.

Just the stark reality.

Nova's grip visibly weakened.

For a spell, silence prevailed. She understood the truth of it.

Despite the painful sting of hearing it, she knew it to be true.

The initial instigator or the sequence of events leading to the current state made no difference; the outcome was tragically the same, a consequence none of them could reverse simply by unearthing more details.

Her breathing settled, the rise and fall of her chest becoming more regular as she drew a deeper breath. Although the anger hadn't dissipated, its unthinking trajectory had been disrupted, replaced by a heavier, more grounded sensation, making impulsive action more difficult.

"Then explain WHYYYYY," she finally articulated, her voice softer now, though still laced with strain and the burden of emotions held in check.

Marcella released a gentle exhale, responding at last.

"My intention in taking him away was not for him to vanish," she stated, her tone measured and deliberate, each word carefully chosen, "I relocated him to a secure location. A place prepared well in advance. A sanctuary where he could remain until the situation here stabilized... until you, him... all of you... could confront each other once more without the complete breakdown that occurred."

Selena's eyes darted, the words resonating differently now, no longer filtered solely through the lens of guilt, but through a more intricate understanding.

"I ensured he possessed everything necessary," Marcella elaborated, "protection, resources, a means to live without fear of pursuit or harm... it was never intended to be a permanent arrangement."

Nova's expression shifted once more, anger receding to be replaced by bewilderment. "...then what happened?" she inquired, the question no longer a shout but a different kind of demand, driven by an urgent need to know, to fill the lingering void.

Marcella's gaze subtly lowered for the first time, an acknowledgment of that void rather than an act of avoidance.

"I returned here," she explained, "to maintain vigilance... over both of you." Her eyes briefly flickered towards Selena before returning to Nova, "And when I went back to him..."

A pause ensued.

"...he was gone."

The declaration settled with significant weight.

"This was not part of my plan," she added quietly, "I never intended for him to disappear entirely. My sole aim was to grant him time... and to afford all of you an opportunity to reach a point where resolution was possible without further fragmentation."

"I attempted to locate him... but I wasn't able to... I have no idea how he managed that either.."

Silence descended once more.

However, this silence possessed a different quality than the one preceding it.

Nova's hand began to tremble again, but this time, the tremor wasn't solely fueled by anger; something else had surfaced within it—uncertainty, doubt, the nascent stirrings of possibilities she had previously refused to contemplate.

Gradually, almost unconsciously, she lowered her sword.

The blade withdrew from Marcella's neck, her arm falling limply to her side as her shoulders relaxed infinitesimally, the tension no longer focused in a single, rigid direction.

Marcella observed the subtle shift in Nova—the way the tension in her shoulders had eased enough to signal that the sharp edge of her anger had dulled, even if it hadn't vanished entirely. She let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her hand slowly rising to gently rest on Nova's head. It was not an act of restraint or control, but of something far more familiar, a connection that had existed long before their world shattered.

"I understand how you feel," she said softly, her voice devoid of its usual authority, replaced by a profound, weary honesty born from carrying the same burden for far too long. "And I am unsure... how to assist any of you... or even myself any longer. There are no correct answers left in this predicament, nor any straightforward path to escape it." Her fingers lingered for a moment before returning to her side, her gaze dropping briefly as if searching for something that was simply absent. "But all we can do now... is continue to stand. However fractured that might be."

Selena remained at a small distance, her hands loosely at her sides, her gaze fixed somewhere between the floor and Nova’s back. She couldn't quite meet Nova's eyes, yet she couldn't look away either. The sight of Nova, standing there so distressed and vulnerable, felt like a direct consequence of her own choices, something she had personally brought into existence. She swallowed, her throat tightening as the immense weight of the situation pressed down once more, heavier now that everything was exposed.

"...Sorry," she whispered, the word barely audible, seeming too small for the room. It was all she could manage, all she felt entitled to offer.

Her apology extended far beyond that immediate moment. It wasn't just for the recent events, the confrontation, or the sword drawn against her. It encompassed everything: every fib she'd told, every instance of silence when words were needed, every moment Nova had cared for her under a false pretense. Selena allowed Nova to stand by her side, to protect her, to trust her, all while harboring a truth that could have shattered that trust long before it reached this breaking point. She didn't resent Nova's attack; she didn't even deem it unfair. In fact, she felt she deserved far worse.

Nova had never been cruel to her, never distant, always accepting responsibility for her. She had stepped into a role voluntarily, simply because she believed it was the right thing to do. Selena vividly recalled those subtle, quiet gestures: Nova checking on her discreetly, intervening without drawing attention when issues arose, always being a steadfast, dependable presence. It was like having an older sister who had chosen her, not out of obligation, but out of genuine affection. Each act of kindness from Nova, performed under the illusion of a lie Selena had crafted, left an indelible mark. It wasn’t visible or spoken, but it accumulated within Selena, growing into a guilt that felt bottomless.

She vividly remembered that specific day. The day Razeal reappeared after years of absence, when everyone had presumed him gone forever, when the world had moved on, yet he had returned, alive. Even then, in that moment when Nova's greatest desire was to see Razeal returned, to have him safe, she had still asked him to apologize first – to Selena. Nova had drawn a line for Selena’s sake, not for personal pride or control, but because she believed Selena deserved that acknowledgment. She believed in Selena’s purported innocence, in the narrative she had been fed, in the version of truth Selena had constructed. That memory was the most painful, as it highlighted the extent of Nova's willingness to act for her, all built upon a foundation that was never real.

And now, that foundation had crumbled.

Nova didn't acknowledge Selena's apology. It wasn't a conscious act of ignoring it, but rather that the words simply didn't penetrate. It was as if Selena's presence had been displaced from Nova's immediate awareness, not by intent, but by the sheer overwhelming force of everything else flooding her mind. To Nova, Selena’s apology might as well have never been uttered.

Selena slowly lowered her head, her gaze now fully fixed on the ground. Her shoulders drew inward slightly as the silence enveloped them, and she accepted it without resistance. It felt fitting. She felt she didn't even merit the opportunity to say sorry, because an apology implies the possibility of mending what's broken, a possibility she no longer believed in.

"...You've encountered him?" Merisa's voice sliced through the quiet, steady yet laden with its own weight. Merisa rose slowly from her chair, her movements measured and deliberate. Her hand briefly brushed the spot on her chest where Nova’s sword had struck earlier; the fabric remained torn, a stark reminder of the recent event, though the wound beneath had already healed. She took a steadying breath before looking directly at Nova, "I can see it etched on your face."

Nova’s eyes shifted towards Merisa.

Merisa continued, her tone measured, acknowledging Nova's emotional state without succumbing to it. "I understand what you're experiencing. More than you realize." She paused, as if carefully selecting her next words.

"On that day... I loathed myself more than anyone possibly could. I yearned to undo it, to retract every word, every decision, every single moment that led to that outcome. I replayed it endlessly, convincing myself that different choices might have altered the course of events."

Her gaze remained unwavering.

"But you need to realize something," she stated, her tone firming slightly, not with anger, but with deep conviction, "disliking me for it is acceptable. If you seek to place blame, place it on me. I can bear that."

Merisa drew in a slow breath, her expression settling into one of resolute determination, a decision clearly made long before this very moment. "However... what I did..." she carried on, "I do lament the consequences. I lament where it ultimately led. I lament the pain it inflicted – all of it." A fleeting glance, a momentary lapse where regret surfaced before being swiftly put back in check, crossed her eyes. "But the fundamental decision itself?"

She gave a slow, deliberate shake of her head.

"I would enact it once more."

The words were delivered without the slightest hesitation.

Merisa maintained her unwavering gaze. "Should that day transpire again," she declared, her voice tranquil and steady, "I would take the same action. Perhaps with greater skill. Perhaps with more command, more foresight... but I would certainly not allow it to remain undone."

Nova’s eyes narrowed, a spark of anger rekindling, not erupting explosively this time, but sharp, intensely focused, tinged with confusion. Yet, she remained silent, simply listening.

"Indeed," Merisa affirmed, without pause, without tempering her words, "because the action I took... was not born from malice. It was not a product of selfishness. It was not intended to bring about his ruin." Her gaze remained fixed on Nova, "It was because, in that critical instant, I was convinced it was the correct course of action."

"And ultimately... It was the Right thing."

There was no trace of apology within that declaration.

Only her profound conviction.

And that conviction stood resolutely between them, not as a defense, but as an unyielding principle that refused to bend, even now, even after the tumultuous events that had transpired.

"And I conveyed the very same sentiment to him," Merisa continued, her voice even, though a subtle strain began to emerge, a nuance absent before, one that had started to surface the moment Nova entered the room, her eyes carrying that particular expression.

"I informed him precisely this... that what I did, I believed to be right. And yet..." she paused, her gaze drifting slightly, not entirely disengaging from Nova, but not rigidly fixed either, as though recalling the specific moment with a clarity she had previously suppressed.

"I also imparted to him... that I now offer him forgiveness. That whatever he may have done... I was prepared to release it." Her fingers subtly curled at her sides, "I even extended an invitation for his return."

A quiet gravity underpinned those words, not overt or dramatic, but palpable, as if they held a deeper significance than she was openly willing to convey. "I requested... not from a position of superiority, not as one passing judgment... but simply as..." she hesitated for the briefest of moments, "...someone who wished for a different conclusion."

Her lips pressed together faintly before she exhaled, "But he refused."

A brief silence ensued, but Merisa pressed on. "I made an effort," she added, with renewed firmness, as if needing to solidify this fact, not only for Nova’s benefit but for her own as well, "And my efforts will continue. Because regardless of the past... I will not permit this to remain the final outcome."

Then, her gaze firmly re-established contact with Nova, now sharper, more direct. "So there is no need for you to harbor animosity towards me for this," she stated, her tone acquiring a subtle edge of unwavering certainty, "because what I undertook... I do regret certain aspects of it, yes. I regret its ultimate trajectory. I regret the repercussions." Her brow furrowed slightly, "But regret does not invalidate the correctness of the initial decision."

She advanced a single step, diminishing the space between them by a small measure, her presence exuding stability despite the unfolding emotional turbulence. "Try to envision yourself in my position," she urged, her voice firm yet restrained, "if it had been your own son... if he had committed the same transgression Razeal did that day... would you have remained passive?"

Merisa continued, her point delivered with a quiet persistence, "Or let us consider this scenario... on that day, had I stepped aside... and tasked you with the responsibility for him instead... whether to punish him or not... would you have abstained?" Her gaze remained steadfast, "Would you have declined? Would you have allowed him to escape consequence?"

A fleeting pause.

"I find that difficult to believe," Merisa asserted, her tone softening once more, regaining its calmness, yet imbued with a certainty forged from years of adherence to her personal principles, "because you understand... at that juncture, given the circumstances... there existed no alternative."

Her expression tightened subtly, not from anger, but from sheer resolve. "Perhaps the method I employed was flawed," she conceded, "Perhaps my approach should have been different... but the act itself?" She gave a single, decisive shake of her head, "He warranted retribution for his actions. And you are fully aware of this truth."

The atmosphere in the room grew profoundly still by the time her final words were spoken."Please, don't do this to me—" Merisa pleaded, her voice now barely a whisper. Her eyes darted down for a fleeting moment, fixing on the blade still clutched in Nova's grasp. It was the very sword that had impaled her not long ago, its surface still stained with her freshly shed blood.