I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 496: Defiance

"You are ready to fight against me?" Razeal suddenly asked, his voice carrying over the entire capital with cold disbelief. His crimson eyes moved across the crowd beneath him, taking in the same people who had been returned to life, protected from destruction, and given another chance to stand beneath the sky.

"You are ready to stand against the one who saved you because of a god?" His voice rose with each word, becoming heavier and sharper.

"A god every single one of you knows would have allowed you to die." He pointed toward the ruined parts of the city beyond them, toward the broken walls, the bloodstained streets, the damaged houses, and the places where bodies had been lying only a short time ago.

"This kingdom would have flowed with the blood of every one of you," he shouted. "Men, women, children, old, young, rich, poor.. it would not have mattered. You would have died, and your god would not have cared." His voice struck the crowd again and again, leaving no space for them to hide from the memory of what had happened.

Many among them still wore the clothes in which they had died. Some had dried blood upon their sleeves. Others had wounds that only recently disappeared. They knew how close the kingdom had come to complete destruction. They knew prayers had been spoken. Bells had been rung. Priests had cried for salvation. Yet no divine light had descended to save them. No god had stepped onto the battlefield. No holy hand had pulled them away from death. Razeal had.

"Step out," Razeal ordered, his voice turning even colder. He moved closer to the edge of the platform and looked directly into the sea of faces.

"Anyone who believes that god would have saved even one of you if I had not come.. step out." He spread one arm slightly, almost inviting them forward. "Anyone." The final word boomed across the capital.

"ANYONE!"

The sound echoed from building to building, shaking through the streets and pressing down upon every person below. Yet no one moved. Men who had been shouting only moments earlier remained where they stood. Women lowered their eyes. Priests hidden among the crowd did not dare step forward. Even those who believed deeply could not force their feet to move. Some wanted to. Some wished to defend their faith, but the memory of death held them still. They had called for their gods, and their gods had not come. Now the man who had brought them back was standing above them and daring them to deny it. No one did.

Razeal watched their silence and let out a low, mocking laugh. There was no joy inside it. Only bitterness and disgust.

"Rape happens inside your churches," he said. "Inside your temples. Inside the very homes of the gods you pray to." The words struck the crowd differently. Several people immediately looked uncomfortable. A few lowered their heads as though old memories had been dragged into the light.

"Do you think they care enough to stop it?" Razeal asked. His expression twisted with cold mockery. "They do not." His voice suddenly rose.

"THEY DO NOT!" A woman in the crowd flinched so hard that the man beside her caught her arm. Razeal’s gaze moved over them without mercy.

"Do any of you want to know whether rape is even a crime to them?" he continued.

"Whether they truly see it as something deserving punishment? Whether they care about the one who suffers?" His jaw tightened with disgust.

"No. They do not care unless it serves their purpose. Unless it fits whatever greater plan they have decided matters more than your pain."

The people became quieter. Some faces changed from anger to uncertainty. Others showed discomfort, fear, or disbelief. Razeal did not stop.

"Trust me when I tell you this," he said, his voice becoming darker.

"There are gods who will watch your daughters be raped. They will watch your mothers suffer. They will watch it happen and call it necessary." His eyes hardened as though he were looking at something far beyond the crowd, something from memory.

"They will call it fate. They will call it sacrifice. They will say it is for some greater good." The last words came out with clear disgust.

A strange heaviness spread through the people. They did not understand why, but many of them suddenly felt that he was not simply making an argument. He sounded like someone who had seen it himself. There was too much certainty in his voice. Too much hatred. Too much pain hidden beneath that cold expression. Even those who wanted to call him a liar hesitated.

Razeal laughed again, quieter this time, and slowly shook his head. "There was a god," he said, his voice falling lower. "A god who made a plan to allow a girl, young enough to be your daughter, to be raped." The crowd went completely still.

"And that god tried to convince her that it was her destiny." Confusion moved through the public at once. Some people frowned deeply. Others stared upward with disbelief. Razeal looked over them.

"Tell me," he said, his tone suddenly cutting and sharp, "From which side is that good?" No answer came.

"From which side does that become mercy? Justice? Love?" His words forced the question into every mind below. Even the most loyal believers could not find an easy answer. The idea was too ugly. Too cruel. If a god truly planned such a thing, then what exactly made that god worthy of worship?

"You are lying!" A loud voice suddenly shouted from somewhere deep within the crowd. The words broke through the silence, rough and desperate rather than brave. People nearby quickly stepped away from the speaker, afraid Razeal might kill him the same way he had killed the archbishop. For a moment, everyone looked toward the platform, waiting for fury. But Razeal did not become angry. Instead, he laughed. It was a short, cold laugh filled with complete confidence.

"I am not," he answered loudly. His voice carried directly toward the person who had shouted. "Tell your god to come here and tell me himself that I am lying." The crowd stared at him. Razeal spread his arms slightly.

"Call him. Pray harder. Scream his name if you must. Tell him to stand before me and deny it." His crimson eyes shone beneath the blood-stained crown. "You do not know. I do. And I am telling you the truth." He paused, allowing the silence to return. "He will not come," Razeal said. "Because it is the truth."

The public fell quiet again. This time, the silence felt different. Some still hated him. Some still believed he was committing the worst blasphemy imaginable. But doubt had entered the crowd, and once doubt entered, it became difficult to remove.

Far away from the raised platform, Nancy stood among the people with her head lowered. Her face was partly hidden by the angle of her hair, and she said nothing. Her hands remained still by her sides, but there was tension in them.

She simply stood in silence, and that silence was enough to draw attention. Maria, standing beside her, slowly turned her head. Her eyes narrowed sharply as she studied Nancy’s face.

"So yes," Razeal continued, turning his attention back toward the crowd. "I will not explain every truth to you today." His tone became firm again.

"I am not asking for understanding. I am commanding it." He pointed toward the people below.

"You will not give thanks to something that did nothing. You will not praise an incompetent and disgusting god." The words were spoken with open contempt. "You will not place faith above the law, and you will not place any god above your king."

A woman somewhere near the front began crying quietly. Her shoulders trembled as tears moved down her face. Her husband quickly pulled her closer and whispered for her to remain silent. Around them, several people looked up at Razeal with hatred, but none dared speak. Some clenched their fists. Others stared at the ground. The soldiers guarding the great public gathering were trembling as well. Their hands remained wrapped around spears and swords, but their grip had become unsteady. Many of them were believers too. They had prayed before battles. They had worn holy symbols beneath their armor. They had asked priests to bless their weapons. Now their new king was telling them that everything they believed in would be removed by law. They did not understand it. They could not accept it. To them, this did not feel like freedom. It felt like the beginning of tyranny under a ruler too powerful to resist.

Razeal saw all of it. The hatred, the fear, the trembling hands, the confusion. Yet he did not become angry again. He simply looked over them in silence for a few moments, as though judging whether they were capable of understanding anything beyond the lives they had already accepted. Then he spoke once more.

"Those who cannot live without worship may leave my kingdom," he said. His voice was calmer now, but there was no softness inside it.

"Get out of my land." A wave of shock moved through the crowd. Razeal continued before anyone could react.

"You will be allowed to take what belongs to you. Your clothes, your gold, your tools, your animals, your families.. whatever is truly yours." His gaze remained steady.

"You will be escorted safely to the border. You will not be harmed as long as you obey the law and leave peacefully." He paused. "But once you are gone, you will never return." The final words came out cold and absolute.

"You will no longer be citizens of my kingdom. You will have no right to its protection, its food, its education, its laws, or its future." Razeal stood above them with blood still upon his face and the crown still stained red.

"You will not remain upon my land while refusing my law," he said, each word spreading clearly across the capital.

"You will not eat food grown beneath my protection, sleep behind walls guarded in my name and by my strength, raise your children in the peace I create, and still claim loyalty to a god that abandoned you." His gaze hardened as he pointed toward the people below.

"A god that does not care about you. A god that does not care about your wives, your husbands, your sons, or your daughters." He paused for a moment, allowing the meaning to settle over them.

"My kingdom is not your temple. My protection is not everyone’s right simply because they were born here. Those who reject my command do not deserve either." The words created another wave of discomfort through the crowd. Many people lowered their eyes, while others looked around as if hoping someone else would speak first. They had lived their whole lives believing the land belonged to everyone born upon it, even if nobles controlled it and kings ruled over it. But Razeal was telling them something completely different. In his eyes, citizenship was not something they could keep while openly rejecting the laws of the crown. His protection came with obedience. His promises came with a price. They could accept the kingdom he intended to create or leave it behind.

For several long moments, no one moved.

But then suddenly.. from somewhere near the middle of the crowd, one man finally forced himself forward. Whether he was brave or simply too faithful to remain silent, no one could say. People quickly moved aside when they realized what he was doing, fear causing them to create a path around him.

The man walked until he reached the front of the gathered public. His clothes were simple, the rough fabric and worn shoes making it clear that he was only an ordinary civilian. His legs trembled visibly beneath him, and his breathing had become uneven, but he still forced himself to raise his head. Everyone around him watched with wide eyes. Some thought he had courage. Others thought he was insane. The archbishop’s blood had not even dried upon the platform, yet this man had still chosen to speak. He swallowed once before his voice finally came out.

"My.. lor.. Majesty," he said, trying to remain respectful even though fear made the words shake, "faith cannot be destroyed by anyone. No king, no army, and no law can stop a person from having faith in their god. You cannot stop it..." The moment he finished, the air seemed to become heavier.

Razeal stared down at him without blinking. The man’s body stiffened beneath that gaze, but he remained where he stood. Razeal did not shout at him. He did not kill him. He simply answered in a cold voice.

"Then carry your faith beyond my borders."

The man’s lips parted again, perhaps wanting to explain that belief lived inside the heart and could not be left behind with a temple, but before another word could come out, Razeal raised one hand. The movement was enough to silence him immediately.

"This is only a warning for now," Razeal said. His voice sharpened, making it clear that the mercy being shown at this moment would not remain forever.

"But yes.. Anyone who secretly builds a place of worship will be arrested. Anyone who gathers followers in the name of a god, preaches publicly, or spreads rebellion through faith will be arrested." His eyes moved across the people once again, making sure none of them believed the warning was meant only for priests.

"Anyone who harms another person in the name of religion will be treated as an enemy of this kingdom. Anyone who uses faith to challenge my authority will be executed immediately."

The civilian standing below lowered his head. He had received his answer, and he understood that arguing further might cost him his life.

Around him, the rest of the crowd became completely silent. The words were no longer only about destroyed buildings. Razeal was forbidding organized worship itself. People could not gather secretly, could not preach, could not build shrines, and could not use divine authority to oppose him. The old religious structure of the kingdom was not being reduced. It was being cut out completely.

"I will not argue with priests," Razeal continued. "I will not debate believers. I will not forgive those who break this law." His voice remained calm, but that calmness only made the threat more frightening.

"Obey, leave, or face the consequences." He let the choice hang before them. There would be no fourth path. No compromise. No hidden temples tolerated in distant villages. No priest permitted to continue under a different title. Then Razeal raised his chin slightly.

"And remember this," he said. "My strength does not come from anyone. No faction of this kingdom gives me my strength so dont think if some factions here and there united and can defeat me.. I defeated an enemy who could have turned every one of you into dust, and I did it by myself." Several people looked toward the ruined parts of the capital again. They had already seen enough to believe him.

"So thinking that some rebellion will defeat me is childishness," Razeal said, his lips twisting slightly with cold contempt. "Anyone who tries to break the peace of my home will be killed. There will be no second warning."

Deep inside, Razeal knew exactly what this declaration would create. He knew hatred would spread through the streets the moment the people were allowed to leave this plaza. Families would argue. Priests would hide. Nobles would secretly wonder whether they could use religion against him. Foreign kingdoms would call him a monster.

The Church all around the world would declare him an enemy. Songs would be written about the blood-covered king who outlawed the gods. He knew some people would call him a tyrant, and perhaps they would not be entirely wrong. But he did not care.

Being called cruel did not matter to him if cruelty was required to tear out what he believed had poisoned this land for generations. He had already accepted that they might never love him. He did not need love. He needed obedience long enough to build the kingdom he had promised. If the people only understood later, then later would be enough.

Razeal raised his chin higher and gave his final command.

"From this moment onward, every temple will be destroyed. Every church will be emptied. Every holy symbol will be removed from public sight. Every priest will surrender his position." His gaze moved slowly across the crowd.

"You will serve this kingdom, obey its laws, and answer to your king alone." The finality in his voice left no room for doubt.

"That will be all." He paused briefly before adding, "You have two days to leave." A shock moved through the people, but no one dared interrupt.

"Take your possessions. Take your families. Leave peacefully, and no one will harm you. After those two days, anyone found defending a temple, hiding a priest, building an altar, or gathering in the name of a god will face the consequences." His expression did not change.

"There will be no excuse. There will be no mercy because you claim devotion. You were warned before everyone."

Then, as though threatening the entire kingdom was still not enough, Razeal slowly lifted his face toward the sky. The movement immediately drew every eye upward with him. Clouds moved faintly above the capital, untouched by everything happening below. Razeal stared into that endless distance as if he truly expected someone to be listening.

"And one warning to the gods," he said. His voice became lower, yet it carried with frightening clarity.

"If any god wishes to become a hero and fight for his image and his believers he may step upon my land." The crowd stopped breathing. Razeal’s crimson eyes narrowed.

"But I promise this." A wave of dread spread outward from him, rolling across the plaza like invisible darkness. People felt their knees weaken. Soldiers tightened their grips upon their weapons. Children began crying quietly without understanding why.

"He may not leave my land."

For several seconds, the people simply stared. It was already impossible for many of them to accept that he had forbidden their gods, but threatening those gods directly was something beyond madness. He was not only denying their authority. He was challenging them to descend.

And worse, he spoke as though he truly believed he could kill them. The certainty in his voice frightened them more than the threat itself. No one cheered. No one dared protest. They stood beneath the platform and understood that the decision had already been made. Their temples would fall. Their priests would be removed.

Their gods had been forbidden. And the king expected obedience. For many families, it was the hardest choice they had ever faced. Stay and abandon the faith that had shaped their lives, or leave behind their homes, fields, shops, friends, and every promise Razeal had made.

Some feared that refusal would lead not only to their deaths but to the deaths of those they loved. Whether Razeal truly intended to kill entire families or whether fear had simply twisted his words into something worse, no one knew. But after seeing the archbishop’s head fall, no one felt brave enough to test him.

Razeal finally lowered his gaze from the sky and turned away from the crowd. The plaza remained silent behind him as he began walking back across the platform. His boots passed near the fallen body of the archbishop, leaving faint red marks upon the white marble.

Sofia watched him approach, her expression filled with worry, disbelief, and something close to pain.

"Razeal..." She said softly when he came closer, perhaps hoping to stop him for only a moment, perhaps wanting him to explain whet