The Villain Can't Lose



As I stealthily trailed the enigmatic man through the grand entrance of the auction house, a shroud of darkness cloaked our path.

It was as if a clandestine world awaited me within those foreboding walls. The air was thick with anticipation, heightened by the eerie presence of the attendees, their faces concealed behind ornate golden masks.

A devious smirk curved upon my lips as I surveyed the dimly lit room, my gaze fixating upon the elevated stage, where a lone figure stood.

My eyes darted across the assembly once more before I slipped into the shadows, ensconced in the enveloping obscurity.

Patiently, I awaited the unfolding of the enigmatic proceedings, curiosity and trepidation intertwining within me. Suddenly, the auctioneer's voice resonated through the room, commanding the attention of the masked throng.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his words reverberated, piercing the thick silence, "allow me to present the objects." I raised an eyebrow, bemused by the cryptic reference to "objects," and scrutinized the auctioneer intently, searching for any signs of hidden motives.

Time seemed to stretch, teetering on the precipice of eternity, until finally, two familiar figures emerged from the shadows, their presence sending a chill down my spine. Between them, they carried a cage concealed beneath a somber, blood-red blanket.

My breath caught in my throat as the covering was lifted, revealing a heart-wrenching sight: emaciated children, their fragile bodies bearing the scars of torment, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperate hope.

A chorus of anguished cries erupted from the captives, their pleas for mercy falling upon deaf ears. With callous disregard, the auctioneer silenced their wails with a swift kick to the cage. Leaning back, I observed this display of malevolence, waiting in the darkness, pondering their next move.

"The first of these wretched souls starts at a mere sixty pieces of gold," the auctioneer began, his words quivering in the charged atmosphere. But before he could continue, an abrupt stillness descended as his voice froze in mid-sentence, trapped by an invisible force.

It was my doing—I had commanded him to be silent, compelling the very blood within him to constrict, cutting off his speech. In an instant, crimson blood erupted from his mouth, staining the stage, and he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

A collective gasp reverberated through the room, blending with hushed whispers that acknowledged the sudden turn of events. The moment had arrived for me to seize control. Raising my finger, I commanded the cold, icy mirrors that lay beneath the hall to awaken, slithering stealthily, encasing the very ground upon which they stood.

"What sorcery is this?" someone exclaimed, their voice betraying a hint of arrogance. "I cannot comprehend..." added another, their confusion palpable. Amusement danced upon my lips as I released a mocking laugh, reveling in their bewilderment.

"Seal," I uttered with authority, and the mirrors constricted, forming a crystalline prison, ensnaring every soul within the hall. They were now confined within my domain, trapped within a cage of glass that I controlled at will.

With a self-assured air, I rose from my seat, hands casually resting in my pockets, emanating an aura of calculated power. "Well, well, well..."

"Wh-who are you?" a tremulous male voice erupted from the captive crowd. The panic in his words reverberated through the room, ricocheting off the walls. 

"What have you done? Release us!" a woman's voice thundered, her demand laced with desperation.

A faint sigh escaped my lips, laden with an air of weary amusement. "Oh, if only it were that simple," I drawled, deliberately elongating each syllable, relishing the tension that hung in the air. "You see, my purpose here is twofold—to find a lost child and avenge someone..." I trailed off, my voice dripping with chilling ambiguity.

"Av-avenge?" stammered another voice, a mixture of confusion and fear tainting the words. "What does it have to do with us?" she implored, her voice trembling.

A short, chilling laugh escaped me, piercing the stifling atmosphere like a shard of ice. "Nothing," I replied with finality, my tone resolute. "And that is precisely what makes it so entertaining."

With deliberate, deliberate intent, I withdrew my hands from my pockets, my fingers curling into tight fists. The moment had arrived—the moment when their faces registered a concoction of shock, bewilderment, and fear.

As they were still grappling with the disorienting presence of the mirror house, I raised my finger, and with a swift motion, extracted a glass shard from the crystalline surface.

It transformed under my touch, coalescing into a lethal dagger, gleaming with an ethereal glow, reminiscent of Nari's potent mana.

I shifted my gaze to the left, where five individuals foolishly attempted to flee, their fear propelling them towards an illusory freedom.

In a flash, my otherworldly dagger cleaved through the air, piercing flesh and bone, each strike met with the sickening thud of impending demise.

Crimson rivulets painted the floor, as lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, their souls snuffed out with ruthless efficiency. "Morons," I scoffed, my voice laced with contempt. "You never learn."

A macabre symphony of screams and wails erupted, filling the chamber with a cacophony of terror. The remaining captives stood frozen, their eyes wide with dread, their jaws hanging in disbelief.

The very ground beneath them quivered, a tremor born of their collective terror. "And now," I murmured, my gaze sweeping across their trembling figures, "what shall I do with you?" The question lingered, heavy with ominous intent, as silence descended upon the hall, pregnant with the weight of impending fate.

As their trembling forms quivered under the weight of my gaze, my eyes, black as the abyss, bore into their souls, drinking in their fear with a perverse satisfaction.

A chilling smile curled upon my lips, a sinister display of satisfaction. "I want you to fight for your survival now," I hissed, my voice a venomous whisper that sent shivers down their spines.

Their eyes widened further, their pupils dilating with a mixture of dread and desperation. The air crackled with anticipation, an electric charge that permeated every fiber of their being.

In that moment, the fragility of their existence became palpable, as they realized the depths of their helplessness within my meticulously crafted web of torment.

Their bodies quivered, tension coiled in every sinew as they readied themselves for the grisly dance that lay ahead. The resounding silence was broken only by the sound of their shallow breaths, labored with anticipation, and the haunting echoes of their racing heartbeats.

"Are you all deaf? I said fight for your survival..." I mocked them, "the last standing person will be able to escape from here alive." 

For a brief moment, time held its breath, suspended in the shadowed depths of the room. Then, with a sudden burst of frantic energy, they lunged at each other, driven by the primal urge to survive. A symphony of desperate cries, clashing limbs, and thudding impacts filled the air, echoing through the chamber with a haunting intensity.

I observed with detached fascination as the battle unfolded, relishing in the chaos, the twisted display of humanity at its most primal. Each strike, each gasp of pain, fueled the dark flames within me, sating an insatiable hunger for power and control.

The room became a theater of bloodshed, the air heavy with the metallic scent of anguish and desperation. Broken bodies littered the floor, a macabre tapestry of suffering and violence. The survivors, driven by a combination of terror and instinct, fought on, their every movement a testament to the depths of human depravity.

***

A/N

Sorry for the delayed update. I don't think I will be changing the price of the privilege, though. So, good news for you!