CHAPTER 296: THIRD VILLAIN ACT [2]

The masked man’s words sank deep, like chains wrapping around the room.

No one from New Dawn dared move, though unease rippled in their gazes.

He knew too much.

He didn’t just recognize Seraphine—he had torn apart the layers of her life with a precision that made it feel less like discovery, more like omniscience.

"...Test us?" Seraphine repeated, her tone sharpening. She straightened her spine, forcing her calm back into place. "Who appointed you as judge?"

[I need no appointment.]

His reply was immediate, unwavering.

[The weak hide behind titles and associations. The worthy prove themselves without them. And you...]

The oni mask shifted slightly, his gaze falling on her like a physical weight.

[...you’ve spent too long playing both sides. Villain, hero, hunter, civilian. Masks upon masks. But in the end, only one truth matters: are you strong enough to claim what lies beyond this door?]

A shiver crawled down the spines of the New Dawn members. The air felt denser, like even breathing had become a conscious effort.

Seraphine’s jaw tightened. For once, her carefully maintained poise faltered. Not from fear, but from anger.

"You speak as though you stand above us," she said coldly. "But you’re just a man in a mask, hiding the same way I do. Do you really think I’ll let you dictate my worth?"

The masked man chuckled. The sound was low, almost amused—but beneath it was something sharp, mocking.

[Good. That’s the fire I was waiting for.]

Rin Evans POV:

What makes a villain a true villain?

Most people would give the obvious answers—someone who kills indiscriminately, someone who tramples over others for fun, someone who does whatever they want without consequence.

But if you asked me? My answer’s different.

A true villain only needs three things. An unwavering conviction. The self-awareness that they are a villain. And finally—coolness.

Just one of those is enough to qualify, but the best villains... they’ve got all three.

That’s what makes people drawn to them despite knowing they’re evil. That’s why we remember them.

In that sense, the villain alliance called New Dawn wasn’t bad.

They had goals—unyielding ones. They didn’t try to disguise what they were. And above all, they didn’t kill for the sake of killing. Every death was a step toward their objective. Thrill killers, they were not.

For now, the ones they’d put in the ground were other villains anyway. Which was why I was thinking... maybe I could test whether they were worth using.

That was when the voice came.

"Oi, you skinny little twig. Where do you think you’re showing off? Looking to die?"

The man towered over me, thick with muscle and scars, his presence like a storm pressing down on the room.

"You act tough, but I can see right through you." His lips curled into something between a grin and a snarl.

[...Hoh. Then tell me—how do I look in your eyes?]

"You?" He laughed like I’d just told a joke. "You’ve got no talent for martial arts. Not even a shred of strength in your body. That ominous aura of yours? Just for show. No matter what weapon a weakling waves around, it’s still just a pearl necklace on a pig."

I almost wanted to clap. It was... surprisingly accurate.

The giant kept coming, his footsteps heavy, each one carrying the weight of a man who knew he was strong. His aura hit like a furnace—hot, suffocating, demanding attention.

I knew him.

Shibazorak.

A man who lived for duels. In the original story, he had crushed countless opponents, hero and villain alike. Winning was never the point for him. The fight itself was the joy. The challenge. The thrill.

That was why he turned his back on the hero path and chose villainy. Not for greed. Not for ideology. Just because fighting was better on this side.

And he was talented—absurdly so. But he never leaned on that talent.

Instead, he asked a different question: how far can a human body go on its own?

I stared up at him, mask hiding the curl of my lips.

Now this was interesting.

Shibazorak stopped a few paces away, rolling his shoulders as if warming up. His grin widened, a flash of teeth beneath his scarred face.

"Come on then, masked boy. Show me what that creepy aura’s worth. If you can’t, I’ll break you in half and toss what’s left aside."

His words weren’t laced with cruelty. No hatred, no malice—just raw anticipation. Like a predator pacing before the hunt, savoring the moment.

[You sound confident,] I said, tilting my head lazily. [But tell me—what do you plan to do if I can back this up?]

He barked out a laugh, genuine and booming. "Then I’ll be happy. I live for this. Fighting strong opponents, feeling my blood boil, pushing my body further than yesterday—that’s all I care about. I am always hunger for fight and If you’ve got power, I’ll crush it with my fists. If you don’t, then you die. Simple."

So straightforward. So absurdly honest.

I couldn’t help but think—this guy wasn’t a villain because of his sins. He was a villain because he chose to walk the road of chaos, to test himself against the world. His conviction was carved into his bones.

In other words... he had one of the three.

Unwavering conviction.

[I see,] I murmured, my fingers brushing the mask at my cheek as I tilted my head. [So you’re the kind of man who only breathes through battle.]

"Exactly." His eyes gleamed like molten steel, wild but sharp. "And I can tell—you’ve got something hidden. No weakling walks into a dungeon like this alone. So come on. Show me."

The ground shivered faintly as his aura surged, raw pressure pressing against my skin.

Behind my mask, my lips curled.

[You are too arrogant. I’ll show you your place.]

The moment those words left my mouth, the ground shifted.

A grin split Shibazorak’s scarred face, wild and exhilarated. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing like snapping bones, and crouched ever so slightly—his body already coiled to pounce.

"That’s what I wanted to hear."

The floor creaked beneath him. Then—

BOOM.

His foot slammed down, propelling his hulking frame forward with terrifying speed. The air trembled from the force, a rush of wind tearing across the chamber.

To the untrained eye, it would look like a blur, a monster of muscle and scars closing the distance in a heartbeat.

—He’s fast.

But I didn’t flinch.

I tilted my head just enough, his fist grazing the edge of my mask with a deafening crack as it buried itself into the stone wall behind me. Dust and shards rained down, the wall dented like clay.

He didn’t pause. His other fist was already coming, a relentless storm meant to break me apart piece by piece.

I let my body sway, weaving between the blows with movements just shy of lazy. To him, it must’ve looked like I was taunting him—like I was dancing through the storm with no fear of being struck.

And truthfully? That wasn’t far from the truth.

Each punch carried intent. Power. Raw, unfiltered battle lust. A man throwing his soul forward in the shape of his fists.

It was... beautiful.

"You’re grinning, bastard!" Shibazorak barked between swings, his laughter booming even as his strikes split the air. "Don’t think I can’t see it under that mask! You’re enjoying this!"

[...And what if I am?]

I slipped under his arm, my palm grazing the side of his ribs before pushing myself back a few steps. The ground cracked beneath his stomp as he spun, fists raised like cannons ready to fire again.

For a heartbeat, silence.

Then I chuckled softly. The sound bounced strangely in the mask, distorted, unsettling.

[You’re right. This is fun.]

Shibazorak’s grin widened to match mine, eyes burning with something primal.

"Good. Then stop dodging and fight me!"

His aura exploded outward, a furnace-like pressure that made even the New Dawn members shuffle back instinctively. Some swallowed hard, others clutched their weapons tighter, but none dared intervene.

This wasn’t a brawl.

It was a storm caught between two men.

And I could feel it now—this clash was only the beginning.