I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space Chapter 502: Villey

After continuing like that for several more moments, Razeal’s foot finally stopped. The last heavy strike landed upon the already shattered platform with a deep crack, breaking another piece of reinforced stone loose before silence slowly returned to the ruined throne room. Dust floated through the air around him, spreading beneath the high ceiling while small pieces of marble continued falling from the broken platform and the damaged wall where the golden throne remained buried.

Razeal stood in the middle of that destruction with his shoulders rising and falling, his breathing rough and heavy from the fury he had been forcing into the stone. His fists remained clenched at his sides but slowly, little by little, his breath began to settled.

He lifted his head and looked upward toward the ceiling, standing there without moving, as though he had finally exhausted enough anger to hear the thoughts still tearing through his mind. The images of that scene inside the wagon had not disappeared. They remained in front of him no matter where he looked, but now the madness inside his chest had quieted enough for another voice to reach him clearly.

[Why are you reacting so much, Host? Calm yourself down. Now.]

Villey’s voice entered his mind with none of the sympathy or softness Razeal might have expected from anyone else. It was calm, almost annoyed, as though Razeal’s grief was an unnecessary disturbance that had gone on for far too long.

Before Razeal could answer, Villey continued, his words becoming sharper with every sentence.

[It was not even your fault. You only gave those people a choice, whether to stay or leave. They knew there could be consequences once they stepped outside your borders, and yet they still chose to go. The moment they left your kingdom, they were no longer your responsibility as its king. So stop being angry, sad, mad, or whatever this pathetic state is supposed to be. Seriously, Host? You have already killed thousands of people in war. What difference do a few more deaths make?]

Razeal slowly lowered his gaze from the ceiling and looked at the destruction around his feet. His jaw tightened, but this time he did not strike anything.

"That was war, Villey," he answered in a low voice, his breathing becoming calmer as he forced himself to stand straight again.

"Those people made a decision to come onto a battlefield. They came with weapons. They came intending to kill, knowing they could be killed as well. They stepped into danger with that understanding." His eyes moved toward the cracked floor, but what he saw was not stone. He saw small hands buried beneath severed limbs. He saw mothers, old men, and children packed inside wagons.

"These people were innocent. They were not trying to kill anyone. They were not fighting a war. They were only trying to find somewhere else to live. There is a difference."

[Still, whatever,] Villey answered with clear dismissal, as though that difference did not matter enough to change the larger truth.

[Was this not your plan from the beginning? You said you wanted to start wars, conquer kingdoms, and eventually take the entire world. Is this how you are going to act every time someone dies? Do you truly believe people are not going to die on the path you chose?]

[Because if you believe that, then you are fucking naive. People are going to die. Many many and many more than this. People will suffer, cry, lose everything, and die. That is not some rare mistake you can prevent every time. It is inevitable whether you like it or not. Unless you have decided to give up on everything, become some useless monk, disappear into a mountain, and hide until your fate finally catches you and kills you.]

Razeal remained silent, but Villey did not stop. It sounded as if the system had waited a long time for an opening like this, and now that Razeal was listening, every old frustration began pouring out at once.

[Seriously, decide what you want already, because I am tired of your constant mood swings. First, you could not decide whether you wanted power or peace. Then you began saying you did not even want to become a villain. After that, you blamed me, saying I was forcing you? even manipulating you? turning you into someone you did not want to become. Then you ignored me completely. You stopped speaking to me and almost destroyed the wonderful relationship we had, even though I have been beside you since the very beginning.]

[I am your partner. Your entire new life has been spent with me. I have watched everything you have gone through. Lets say I am wrong. Lets say I am cruel, selfish, manipulative, or even evil. Fine. I am those things because that is my nature.]

[It is the deepest part of what I am, something I cannot simply grow out of because you dislike it. I will never become soft, kind, or gentle. You knew that. But you refuse to trust me, refuse to understand me, and then act pathetically shocked when something happens that you always knew could happen.] Villey’s voice became colder, and there was something strangely personal beneath the anger now.

[You are becoming a disappointment, Host. My purpose is to turn you into the greatest and most perfect villain in reality, and yet look at what you are becoming. Crying, screaming, destroying your own throne because people died after you made a choice you already knew would create suffering. What exactly are you trying to become now?]

Razeal listened to every word without interrupting. Slowly, he raised his head again and looked toward the ceiling. A tired sigh escaped his lips, carrying more exhaustion than anger.

"I am not angry only because people died, Villey," he said after a long silence. "I am disappointed."

[Disappointed in what?] Villey immediately asked.

[That your plan did not go the way you imagined? That people died? I do not believe you are that naive or stupid. You told me you wanted to conquer the entire world by beginning wars, defeating kingdoms, and taking all their lands. Yet you also told everyone who did not want to live under your rule that they could leave and go live somewhere else. Does that not contradict your own plan? If you conquer the whole world, where exactly will they go then?]

[Another kingdom?... You will conquer it. Another empire? You will take that too. At the same time, you are now acting as though you do not want people to suffer or die. So what is your real plan? You cannot conquer the world without blood, and there is no way you are stupid enough not to understand that.]

Razeal closed his eyes briefly. Villey’s words were harsh, but the question itself was fair. He had thought about it before. He had not ordered the believers to leave simply because he wanted them gone forever. There had been a reason beneath it, one colder and more calculated than Sofia or the nobles had understood

"Yes," Razeal said quietly.

"I know." His gaze lowered toward the shattered platform again.

"When I sent them away, I knew some of them would die and suffer. I knew leaving would not be easy. Some kingdoms might reject them. Some might lose their money, struggle to find work, go hungry, or regret what they had done. I knew some would face hardship and some might not." His fingers slowly loosened at his sides as he continued.

"But that was part of what I expected. I believed that suffering would teach them something they wouldve never learned. They refused to question their god while they still had houses, food, safety, and everything they needed. So I believed that once they lost those things for the sake of their faith, they would eventually begin questioning whether their god had truly been worth it."

Villey remained silent this time, allowing him to continue.

"They would leave everything behind for a god," Razeal said, his voice becoming steadier as he explained the thought that had existed behind his command.

"Then they would wait for that god to help them, and nothing would happen. They would pray for food, shelter, protection, and a place to live, but their god would remain silent. Slowly, their faith would begin to crack. Even if the older ones remained blind, their children would see what happened. Their children would look at them and ask why they threw away their homes, their future, and their safety for a god who did nothing. Other people would look at them and think they were foolish, uneducated, or trapped in blind faith. They would become examples of what happens when someone places a god above reality." Razeal’s crimson eyes grew colder as he stared toward the broken throne embedded in the wall.

"From one kingdom to another, the numbers would decrease. Some would return after accepting my law. Some would abandon the faith themselves. Others would remain stubborn, but their children might not. Hardship teaches things that words cannot. That was what I had in my mind."

He paused, and the silence inside the throne room grew heavy again. The rage had faded from his face now, leaving behind something harder and more honest.

"I knew things would not happen perfectly," Razeal continued.

"I knew the path would not be simple or clean. I was prepared for rejection, hunger, hatred, political problems, and even some deaths. But I failed in my calculation." His eyes narrowed as the memory of the wagons returned with full force.

"I expected hardship. I did not expect a kingdom to butcher them all and send them back in pieces. I expected the world to punish their foolishness. I did not expect monsters to use innocent children as a message. This dark world." His fists slowly clenched again, but this time he did not lose control.

"That is what disgusts me. Not only what happened, but the fact that I did not see it coming. I believed I understood how cruel people could be, and I was wrong. I underestimated them." He looked down at the destruction he had caused and released another low breath.

"So yes, I am angry. Disgustingly so. Angry at whoever did it, angry at this world, and angry at myself for failing to calculate how far someone might go."

[A blunder. I understand,] Villey finally replied after remaining silent for several moments, his voice returning to its usual calm, mechanical tone, though the lack of concern inside it was almost disturbing.

[But even then, it does not mean you needed to react like this. It was not truly your fault, and now you are making yourself look extremely weak.] His words moved through Razeal’s mind without even the smallest softness.

Villey did not seem disturbed by the image of the wagons, the dead children, or the thousands of lives that had been lost. What bothered him was only Razeal’s reaction to it. The tears, the rage, the broken throne, the way he had lost control of himself. To Villey, that kind of grief seemed almost unacceptable, like a flaw that should not exist inside the person he was trying to create.

[And those people who left your kingdom were not all harmless in their hearts either. Most of them, if they had possessed enough power, would likely have chosen to fight you rather than leave. Some would have tried to kill you. Some would have joined rebellions or holy wars. Their weakness was the only reason many of them obeyed. So there is still no reason to criticize yourself this severely. You made a mistake in calculation. That is all.]

At those words, a small smile appeared upon Razeal’s face, though it was not truly a smile. There was no happiness inside it. It was tired, sad, and faintly bitter, as if Villey’s understanding of the situation was so distant from his own that there was no point becoming angry at it. Razeal slowly raised his head, his crimson eyes moving toward the cracked ceiling above.

"Villey," he said softly, "Do you remember the conversation I once had with Zara?" He did not wait long for an answer. He already knew Villey remembered. That bastard never forgot anything, not a word, not a promise, not even a passing thought if it considered it useful.

"The question she asked me," Razeal continued.

"As asked whether I would truly be satisfied if I succeeded in breaking my curse, escaping my destiny, and killing every person responsible for what happened to me."

[Yes?] Villey answered in its usual flat tone, clearly waiting for Razeal to explain why that old conversation mattered now.

"Its all about that," Razeal said. His gaze remained upward, but his expression slowly became calmer and more serious.

"Revenge, conquest, war, killing those who stand behind my fate, destroying the powers that control me... all of that is necessary. I have no choice but to walk that path if I want to survive and become free. But it is not my purpose in life. It is not the reason I want to continue living." He paused, remembering Zara’s words more clearly now. A life built only around revenge would eventually become empty. Once every enemy was dead, once every chain was broken, what would remain?

"She was right," he admitted quietly. "If my entire life becomes nothing more than fighting destiny and killing those responsible for it, then one day, when it is finally over, I may look back and find there was nothing else. No reason to smile. No life I truly wanted. Only revenge completed and emptiness left behind. That would be a boring and worthless life. One I might regret at the end."

[I still do not understand how that is connected to this,] Villey replied, sounding genuinely unmoved by the explanation.

"It is connected because of how I achieve those things," Razeal answered. His voice became firmer now. "If I decide that revenge is necessary, and then use that necessity to justify anything and everything I do, no matter how cruel, no matter how disgusting, no matter whether I personally believe it is wrong or not, then what difference remains between me and those gods?" The throne room seemed to become quieter around him. Dust still floated slowly through the air, and the ruined golden throne remained buried inside the wall, but Razeal’s attention was no longer on the destruction around him.

"Those gods use the same excuse, Villey. Cosmic necessity. Fate. Destiny and The greater good. They allow innocent people to suffer and say it had to happen. They destroy lives and say there was no other path. They use people like pieces and call it necessary because some greater result matters more than the person being crushed beneath it." His jaw tightened.

"If I do the same, if I all knowingly become someone who accepts every cruelty simply because it helps me win, then I lose the right to point at them and say they wronged me."

Villey remained silent.

"I would not have the face to accuse them," Razeal continued.

"I would not have the strength to say I deserve revenge, because I would have become the same thing. Perhaps smaller in scale, perhaps weaker, but the same in nature. Someone who believes his goal makes every action acceptable." His crimson eyes hardened, and a faint arrogance entered his voice without him even noticing it.

"I am not a hypocrite, Villey." This time he spoke the words aloud rather than only through his thoughts. His voice was soft, but the statement carried absolute force. It sounded less like an opinion and more like a law he had carved into himself. Something that could not be negotiated, bent, or broken simply because the path ahead became difficult.

Razeal slowly looked around the ruined throne room.

"I am selfish," he said after a moment.

"And as I should be." There was no shame in the admission.

"I will do what I believe is right for me. I will take what I want. I will fight for my freedom, my revenge, my life, and the world I choose to build. But I will also refuse what I cannot accept, even if refusing it makes my path harder. I do not want to reach the end of my life with everything conquered and still be unable to look at myself." His voice lowered.

"When my life ends, I want to be able to raise my head and feel satisfied. I want to know that whatever I became, whatever people called me, I chose it with my own will. I do not want regrets left behind because I betrayed everything I believed simply for an easier victory."

He lowered his gaze toward his hands. Those same hands had killed, threatened, ruled, and failed. "And what I feel is also mine," he added.

"Whether I become angry, sad, disgusted, whether I cry, whether I hide it or let it out, that is my decision. My freedom." His eyes narrowed faintly.

"I do not believe I need to explain that even to you, Villey. You may judge it as weakness. You may find it pathetic. But you do not get to decide what I am allowed to feel."

For several seconds, Villey said nothing. The silence inside Razeal’s mind felt almost strange after the system had spoken for so long. Then its robotic voice finally returned.

[I understand.]

The answer was simple, but behind it, Villey’s thoughts had shifted slightly. It still did not care about the dead in the way Razeal did. It still found the grief excessive, and some part of it remained annoyed by the tears and destroyed throne.

But at least Razeal’s reaction no longer appeared completely foolish. He had not sent the people away believing no one would suffer. He had expected hardship, rejection, regret, and even deaths. He had prepared himself to accept consequences in smaller numbers. What broke him was the scale, the sudden cruelty, the complete reversal of his plan, and the knowledge that children had been butchered because someone turned his decision into a weapon and the way how this world works. It was not simple blindness. It was a failed calculation mixed with a personal line Razeal did not want to cross. Villey did not say any of that aloud, and its tone did not change much, but somewhere inside, there was a quiet sense of relief. Ahhhh~ He is not brain-dead yet.

"Yeah," Razeal murmured after hearing Villey’s answer. He released another slow sigh and looked down at the broken platform beneath his feet. The rage had mostly faded now, but the heaviness remained. Thousands of lives had been lost. Even though he understood that the final choice had belonged to them, even though the killers were the true ones responsible, and even though he knew he had not ordered their deaths, the feeling did not disappear. His command had placed them upon that road. That truth was enough to keep the weight inside his chest.

[Well...] Villey suddenly spoke again, its voice carrying an unusual hesitation that sounded almost unnatural coming from it.

[I do not particularly want to bring this up, but I think you ignored something I said only a few moments ago.] Razeal’s brows slowly drew together

[You could simply say that you do not care rather than pretending you did not hear it, you know.] The faint irritation in Villey’s tone returned, though this time it was directed toward something far more personal than dead civilians, conquest, or morality. Razeal remained silent for a moment, already knowing exactly what Villey meant.

There was no need for the system to explain it again. He had deliberately ignored that part of Villey’s earlier words because, honestly, he did not want to open that subject. There were some conversations that felt more dangerous than battle, not because they could hurt the body, but because they forced a person to say things they had spent a long time hiding even from themselves.

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