Surviving as the Villain (2)

Seeing the messages filled me with certainty. I hadn't died—I'd claimed black magic. Magic that defied the laws of mana, unleashing immense power unlike any ordinary spell. The reactions from black magic's transcendent, Necros, and its hater, Jurgen, were proof enough.

Since this was a hidden space, the other gods hadn't noticed yet, but he'd picked up on the change alone. He must really despise black magic. But I'd have to endure that much. Slowly, I withdrew my right arm from the black hole.

A heat I'd never felt before lingered on my arm, and where it had entered and exited, a grotesque black tattoo was etched into my skin. The sensation that it wasn't my arm at all made me clench and unclench my fist a few times. Crimson light leaked from the black tattoo.

The burning pain I'd felt moments ago flared briefly, but soon the tattoo dimmed, sinking into my arm like it was hiding. Confirming my arm had returned to normal, I looked around.

The leather book had closed itself, and black flames erupted, incinerating it. The monster statues that had once mocked me now all bowed their heads toward me—the gargoyle with its eerie fangs, the elongated serpent, every one of them.

As I scanned the statues, I noticed black dots on each one, rippling like condensed energy. Staring at them summoned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a similar black orb in my hand.

"…Ah."

I burst out laughing at the familiar scene from the game. Naturally, I placed the black orb on my palm and gently clenched my fist—as if crushing it.

The surrounding statues shattered into powder. Kwachik—pasus— They scattered as formless dust. My first use of black magic flowed as naturally as water, ridiculously simple.

Appearing out of nowhere in this hidden place, passing the trial effortlessly, and wielding black magic right away—the first black mage had no reason not to be pleased. He didn't know I'd come for survival, not destiny's call.

Still, with the grace I'd earned, why not browse Necros's relics? Heart racing, I opened Necros's Myth Shop. Scanning the artifacts, I bought one with my grace.

My business here was done. Time to head back to the mansion. I lowered my sleeve and stepped out of the secret altar. As I left, the purple candles illuminating it extinguished themselves, falling silent.

Sorry, original protagonist. Any opportunity you might've claimed—I'm taking it.

It was already late night when I returned to the mansion. The cloudless sky, embroidered with countless stars each glowing uniquely, was dreamlike in its beauty. No wonder players often stared at it blankly during the game.

But I had no time to lose myself in the night sky. Mountains of tasks awaited.

Black magic was mine now. The question was how to wield it.

Entering the mansion, I headed straight for the study, not my bedroom. In the spacious room, I lit the mana stone lamp, grabbed a stack of blank paper and a pen, and sat at the desk.

Cracking my knuckles, I began jotting down everything I knew about the original game.

It was a massive game—without forums or wikis here, memory alone had limits. I couldn't risk forgetting key info, so I had to organize it now while it was fresh.

I filled pages relentlessly until my hand ached. Even writing concisely, I needed fresh sheets constantly. By the time I finished, I had a hefty stack of scribbled papers, and dawn was breaking outside.

But I wasn't done. Something more crucial remained.

"Alright, now…"

Leaning back in my chair, I flipped through the pages one by one.

"How do I survive?"

Just following the routes I'd seen wouldn't save me. Vermin died in every path.

I had to synthesize all my knowledge, find a viable survival route.

"Haa…"

A sigh escaped as I turned the pages. Why did everyone hate me so uniformly? The few who liked me were fellow villains—and even they'd stab me in the back at the first chance.

"…For now."

Main story hadn't started yet. While the world was still peaceful, I needed to reduce those harboring grudges against me. Best to eliminate reasons for enmity altogether. A good impression might even make them defend me.

If not… removal it was.

"Let's start with her."

I muttered, holding up a page on one character. A ferocious beast who tore apart anyone blocking her path or shaming her. A mindless animal driven by instinct, ignoring good and evil. I could still prevent her from killing me.

Her lack of morals meant even a villain like me could win her favor. Goal set, I used black magic to hide the papers inside my body. No good if anyone learned I knew the future and everyone else's secrets.

As I rose to head to my room, someone knocked on the study door. Only one person would come here at this hour.

"What is it, Yenika?"

"May I enter?"

"Come in."

Yenika opened the door right away. Her exposed skin was strikingly pale and flawless—perhaps the contrast with her black clothes. But shadows clouded her face. Had she waited up all night? Dark circles under her eyes, expression equally grim.

She wasn't one to show her feelings so openly. Tilting my head, I asked directly.

"Your face looks grim. What's wrong?"

"I'm glad you returned safely."

Yenika clasped her hands below her navel and bowed. As I watched silently, she straightened and asked,

"Did you… acquire the black magic?"

"Don't doubt your master with obvious questions."

"Then, Lord Vermin… you die in ten years?"

"Ten years? Much sooner. Greater ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠power demands a steeper price."

It wasn't a lie—the contract was for six years. Far shorter than ten. Her expression darkened further.

She murmured, barely audible,

"In that short time… is it possible…"

"What?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

She shook her head, composing herself. Curious, but dawn was breaking. Exhausted from the all-nighter, I stood.

"Yenika, find me a slave."

"What kind?"

"Beastkin. Bright silver hair matching her beast ears and tail. Yellow slit-pupiled eyes, sharp fangs."

"Plenty of beastkin slaves like that."

"Fierce temperament—limbs fully restrained. Chest tightly bandaged. Enough?"

She jotted in her notebook, then looked up.

"A female slave?"

"Yes. Find her. Her nasty temper means special treatment—can't miss her."

"Underst…ood."

Her voice hitched. Brushing past her, I headed to my room. Glancing back last, she stood with head bowed low.

Yenika maintained a calm facade until Vermin vanished from sight. But it took every ounce of effort—inside, she was a twisted mess.

Biting her lip until it bled, pretending nothing was wrong, she sighed softly once he was gone.

"I…"

She hated him touching black magic. Hated his lifespan being finite. Less time meant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fewer chances for him to look her way.

Bound to the pyre that day, feet burning, she'd accepted death. No more hope, no expectations. A pure end was better than a future built on filthy desires.

But Vermin was different. He'd saved her from the pyre yet never shown base lust. Unlike men who feigned contempt while coveting women, he let no one into his chambers.

To her, he was a savior. She thought giving her body to such a man would be fine. But he'd never shown her interest. Only her one-sided pursuit; he gave nothing back.

No matter her bold attire, no desire from him. Still, she was content—just being with him, hoping he'd turn someday.

"But…"

He'd traded his lifespan for black magic. Little time left, then she'd be alone. A future she couldn't bear.

"Better to die than live in a world without you…"

That's why she stayed composed even if he tried destroying the world. Destruction meant dying together. If he died first, she'd follow; she never doubted his success.

But if their bond was doomed to ruin like this…

"…Destruction."

World's end was better. Only then could they die together.

In those thoughts, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she pieced together his intentions.

"Suddenly seeking power like this… you must want to see the world's end as soon as possible."

Alone in the corridor, she muttered like a madwoman.

"Black magic, gods, transcendents… You've spoken of them before, but always refused. Destruction not wrought by your own power holds no meaning…"

"But resorting to black magic now… You must want to end the world quickly. Seeking that special beastkin—for the world's destruction too."

"Yes, I, Yenika, will follow your will. I'll work for the future you desire. Hasten the world's end, erase a future without you."

Wiping her teary eyes, she set out with eerie purple eyes to find the beastkin slave.