I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space
Chapter 42: Lets Start The Plan

Chapter 42: Lets Start The Plan

Areon stood dumbfounded, his thoughts swirling in confusion. His eyes darted to her clenched fists, her slender fingers trembling ever so slightly. The blood of Razeal still stained her palms, and though purification was but a thought away for her, she had not cleansed it. His blood remained, dark against her pale skin a reminder of the moment she reached out, and how bitterly she had been rejected.

Why had she apologized? The question flashed across Areon’s mind like lightning. She had touched him that man. And then she apologized for it? His heart beat uncomfortably fast, his mind filled with unspoken questions as he stared at her clenched hands and the sadness she tried so hard to conceal. The Saintess had always been strong, unshaken, yet now... now she trembled.

He’s changed so much... she thought, closing her eyes for just a moment, remembering the Razeal of long ago. The warmth that used to shine in his eyes, the light that had once made her heart ache with kindness it was gone. Snuffed out. She reopened her eyes, now empty of visible emotion, her face serene and unreadable. Whatever storm raged within her, no one could tell.

The crowd, still burning with anger, ready to leap onto the sands and cleanse this blasphemer from existence even at the cost of their own lives froze. Confusion spread among them like wildfire. Why had the Saintess apologized? Should she have? The thought barely formed in their minds before they all settled on the answer they wanted to believe: The Saintess is so pure, so innocent, that she backed down because she touched him without his permission.

Thousands of misunderstandings bloomed in their hearts each one painting the Saintess in an even more divine, more virtuous light. None saw her inner struggle. None understood the truth. To them, she was flawless, her kindness untainted even in this bewildering moment.

They didn’t know what to do now. The anger, the certainty of action, drained from them. They stood frozen, glancing at one another in silent confusion, waiting for something anything to tell them what came next.

But Razeal?

Sorry? The word echoed in his mind, bitter and mocking. Is that all she has to say? His fury burned hotter. Disgusting. The mood he’d found moments ago the thrill of awakening a new system function, the realization he could finally touch mana at last was shattered. Ruined by her, by this encounter. She had come and twisted his mind into knots, stolen whatever peace he had carved out for himself in this cursed moment.

[Host, it’s alright. Calm down. Focus on your plan. We are still under very fatal threat. This is no time for these games. You’re letting your emotions spill out; usually you control them better. You could have gotten yourself killed with that outburst. Remember if you want to be a good villain, you need control. I’m disappointed in you. Please, keep that in mind.]

The system’s voice rang in his mind, its words long, its tone trying failing to soothe him.

Villain? Villain my ass! Razeal’s mind roared. I’m human too, damn it! I have feelings, I have rage! I’ll say what I want, to whoever I want, whenever I damn well feel like it! Don’t talk to me about villain rulebooks or your twisted philosophies.

His thoughts raced, a storm of fury directed at everything the Saintess, the system, the gods, the world itself. This woman fucking ruined my life, shattered it, left me crawling in the mud. And now you want me to smile? To talk to her like I don’t despise everything she stands for? His chest heaved with silent anger. She asks to heal me? Reaches out, pretends at mercy, and I’m supposed to hide my hatred?

No. If I die here, so be it. But I’ll make sure they all know know how much I loathe them. I will never pretend. Never smile at them. Never speak false kindnesses. If I die, it will be as myself. They will see the hate burning in me.

His fists clenched at his sides, though outwardly he remained a statue of cold indifference. His face, still and expressionless, masked the storm raging inside. The system’s words continued to linger, irritating him, feeding his fury. And don’t act like you’re above blame, he seethed inwardly at the system. You failed me. Your buffs were worthless. I’m standing here because of me, not you. Not some god. Not anyone. I survived through my own will. No one has the right to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.

The system, hearing every thought, felt the weight of his wrath. But it did not respond. It had said enough.

And so, Razeal stood, his body still as stone, seething beneath that mask of frozen indifference. His heart pounded with suppressed rage, but outwardly, not a flicker showed. Then, as if casting off the fire consuming him from within, he slowly let out a deep, calm breath. His shoulders eased ever so slightly. And then it came a cold, dangerous smile curling at the corner of his lips. A smile that sent a chill through the air more than his earlier outburst ever could.

His gaze shifted, moving calmly across the faces around him. One by one, his eyes met theirs the furious, the hateful, the disgusted. And in every set of eyes, he saw it: hatred. Pure, unfiltered hatred. Not a single soul looked upon him without it. He could feel it, thick and suffocating, as if the weight of their loathing might crush him.

But not once did fear cross his eyes. Not for even the briefest second. If anything, their hatred only fed the fire in him, only sharpened the edge of his resolve. His cold gaze defied them all, as if daring them to act.

Everyone hates me? I guess.

Razeal cracked his neck, the sound loud in the tense silence. His smirk widened as he looked upon them, these masses of fools, these blind sheep. Stupid sheep, he thought, disdain dripping from every syllable in his mind. They don’t even see beyond their own delusions.

Leave it, he told himself, pushing back the boiling emotions. No point wasting more time on this. It’ll only worsen my mood. His mind shifted, focusing at last on what truly mattered. It was time. The plan needed to begin.

At last, his gaze settled on Areon. who until now had watched, confused and silent, was startled to find Razeal’s eyes on him sharp, unblinking, cold as winter.

Razeal raised his left hand slowly, deliberately, and pointed straight at Areon’s chest. That icy smile stayed on his face, but now a hint of amusement glimmered there too. "How was my gift? Did you like it?" he asked, his voice soft, almost mocking, a grin stretching across his face.

The words hit like a hammer. Areon stiffened, the last of his doubts shattering. So it was him. It really was him. The strange, powerful heartbeat in his chest the source of the strength surging through him, the dragon’s heart that now pulsed with life it was Razeal’s help afterall.

Selene, who had remained at Areon’s side with that eerily composed, emotionless mask, couldn’t hide the surprise flashing in her eyes. Did he really give him the dragon heart? Her mind reeled at the thought. But why? They’ve despised each other since they were children. Why would he do this? She couldn’t make sense of it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t guess at Razeal’s intentions. His actions made no sense.

Areon’s own heart raced, not just from the power burning inside him, but from the storm of questions swirling in his mind. He swallowed hard, his voice tight. "Why?" It was the only word that escaped him. A single question. His brows drew together in a frown as he tried to piece together what Razeal was playing at.

But Razeal didn’t answer. Instead, he beckoned with his hand, fingers curling slightly as if saying, Come closer.

Areon blinked, hesitating for just a breath. Then, with no real concern, he took a step forward. He could feel it this man no kid before him, was no threat to him. Not now or ever. Areon was stronger. Far stronger. And even if Razeal meant harm, Areon knew his protectors stood ready in the shadows. If even the slightest trace of killing intent surfaced, they would intervene in a heartbeat.

"What is it?" Areon asked, his tone cautious but not fearful. He was now just a step away from Razeal, close enough to see the faint smirk, the sharpness in his eyes.

"Good," Razeal said quietly, nodding his head once as if pleased.

And without warning, Razeal moved.

His left arm swung in a sharp, swift motion.

PAAK!!

The sound echoed loud and clear across the stunned arena as his palm struck Areon’s cheek. A slap full, deliberate, and precise.

Areon didn’t move. His eyes closed for a second from the force of it, but there was no pain. No bruise. Only the sting of disrespect. Only the sharp bite of humiliation.

Gasps rang out across the Colosseum. The audience, already teetering on the edge of confusion and outrage, now stood frozen in complete shock. What had just happened? What madness was this?

"I challenge you," Razeal said, his voice carrying in the silence, "to a duel of honor."

For a heartbeat, no one moved. No one breathed. Faces turned to one another, searching for sense in this madness. Even the system, always so quick with commentary, was stunned into silence.

[System: "___"]

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