Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere
Chapter 388 - 388: Uncovering The Truth (Part 13)

Above the madness underground, the forest was unnervingly calm.

The canopy overhead stretched wide—dense crowns of old trees interlocking like fingers in prayer.

The night air moved gently, cool and steady, stirring the underbrush with slow motions. Streaks of moonlight filtered through gaps in the leaves, painting the ground in pale, crooked shapes that moved when you weren't looking.

The men in suits didn't belong here.

Four of them, walking in a loose line behind four androids, each assigned to a different one. The androids didn't speak. They just walked—step by precise step—slow, steady. As if every tree, every patch of dirt had been measured and approved for contact.

Behind them, the men tapped at their work phones.

Each screen showed a digital map—grainy and minimal, yet updated in real time. No GPS tags. Just internal positioning, wired directly to the signal relays hidden in the truck miles behind.

"This place gives me the creeps," one muttered. Younger. His voice wasn't shaky, but it wasn't confident either. "What if those crazy green thorns come out of nowhere?"

The older man—taller, rougher face, jaw like a set brick—didn't look at him when he answered.

"Then shoot them. That thing on your hip isn't there to impress."

The younger man scowled faintly, but said nothing. The others—silent the entire time—glanced once between the two before returning their eyes to the ground.

They kept walking.

Ten minutes passed before the older man's phone buzzed in his hand—brrrt—brrrt—and he stopped instantly, one boot pressed against a mound of moss.

He answered.

"Yes, boss?"

The other three froze, glancing toward him but not daring to speak.

Silence.

Then a nod.

"I understand, sir. We'll get it done."

The call ended.

The man turned to the group. "Change of plans."

They straightened automatically.

"Main camp just picked up some kind of communication from the guys who went down. Something's about to go down. So we've got less time than expected."

He lifted his phone, turned the screen so they could see.

"New positions. Each of you—take a different entrance. We need an android in each tunnel. Here, here, and here."

He tapped the screen three times.

Each man mirrored the marks, nodding.

"I'll take this one."

"I'll go here."

"Got it. I'll head east."

The lead man gave a curt nod. "I'll handle the final one. Don't waste time. Once you have a visual on your assigned tunnel, call it in. After we all confirm, Mr. Barclay will activate the timers."

A pause.

"These things'll go off five minutes after activation. So unless you're planning todie—move fast afterward."

"Clear," the three replied in practiced unison.

"Alright. Let's move."

They split without further word, each taking a different path through the trees. The androids turned in perfect sync, following silently.

Ten minutes later, the first man reached his destination.

This part of the forest was heavier—darker. The trees grew tighter here, trunks warped as if bent by something underground. Roots broke through the soil like veins under skin. He paused the second he saw the tunnel.

A hole. Wide. Ragged. Edges lined with vines that looked like they'd retreated from sunlight long ago. Moonlight spilled down its edge, silver washing over the black like a spotlight on an open grave.

He didn't get closer.

Didn't need to.

"I've arrived at my location. It's clear," he said into his comm.

The voice of the older man responded immediately. "Acknowledged. Head to extraction."

"Copy."

The connection clicked off.

The man turned without looking back, muttering under his breath.

"Another easy payday."

He had no idea what was watching him from the shadows.

The man walked briskly now.

Every step snapped a twig or disturbed some unseen patch of grass. His suit was smeared with dirt and bits of loose bark from brushing past trunks too wide to avoid.

The moonlight above had thinned slightly—veiled behind drifting clouds—and what light did spill through the leaves only seemed to make the shadows darker.

He passed a particularly twisted tree, one gnarled root rising up like a reaching hand, and kept going.

But he missed something.

Two small amber glows nestled in the black just behind the trunk. Not reflections. Not light from his torch.

Eyes.

He didn't notice—at least, not consciously. But something inside him did.

He stopped.

Turned.

His eyes swept back toward the tree behind him. He squinted.

Nothing.

Just wood, bark, leaves. Wind moving through the branches like breath.

He scoffed, shaking his head once. "Getting jumpy," he muttered. Then turned.

Blur.

A flicker. Faster than blinking.

The amber returned—closer. Deep in the shape of the next shadow. Gone just as quick.

This time, instinct flared harder.

He stepped back fast, drawing in a breath.

Then he spun.

Torch up.

**FWWMP—click**

The beam washed over the tree's surface, flattening the darkness. Revealing… nothing. Just moss. Just bark.

His brow furrowed. Relief mingled with unease.

"Just the damn forest," he told himself, backing away. "It's just the forest."

He walked faster now.

Not full panic. But his hand hovered near the sidearm on his hip. A matte-black pistol with a strange circular port near the barrel. It looked like something from a lab, not a military case.

His torch scanned every tree as he passed, flicking between trunks, roots, fallen branches. But it was just shadows. Just trees.

And then—

**Pa**

A soft point pressed against his back.

Or… multiple. Like five knives just barely touching the fabric of his jacket.

His body reacted before his mind could.

"Ah—!" he yelped, leaping forward, twisting as he rolled into the dirt.

**FWMMP**— his pistol came up, barrel glowing faint red, the thin energy line running the length of the frame buzzing gently. His thumb flicked the mode selector without looking. The hum deepened.

He aimed in every direction.

Nothing.

"Shit—shit—"

His torch lit the base of nearby trees. No movement. No sound but his own breath.

He started to speak, raising the comm to his mouth.

"Let me call this in and—"

**SKRRKCH**

Something tore into his neck from behind. Thin. Fast. Clean.

Long dark nails—or something like them—pierced through muscle like paper. Blood burst outward, spraying across his collar, his shoulder, his sleeve. His voice choked mid-sentence.

His mouth moved.

Nothing came out but wet gurgling.

He turned, wildly.

Fired.

**TFFT—TFFT—TFFT**

The pistol rang out in dead silence—no explosion, no echo. The shots sounded like insects flying too close to your ear. But where they landed—trees, stones, whatever—small bursts of energy scorched the surface, leaving blackened craters and smoking holes.

He shot in all directions.

One hand clutching his bleeding neck. The other swinging the weapon wildly.

His legs soon gave out.

His arm trembled.

The blood loss was sudden and catastrophic. His lungs were filling, the air slicing inside his chest instead of feeding it. His vision bled into a blur of grey and red. His muscles twitched without command.

He was dying.

He knew it.

But the questions wouldn't stop.

What was that?

How did it pierce me?

How'd it move so fast?

How the hell did I not hear it?

He collapsed forward. Breath stalling.

Then—eyes still flickering with fading light—he saw something.

A figure. Standing between the trees. Where the moonlight touched the ground and the shadows began again.

Small frame. Long hair moving slightly in the breeze.

Amber eyes. Watching.

Expressionless.

The last thing he saw.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.