The Novel’s Antagonist: I walk the path of a Villain - Chapter 70

Chapter 70: The God’s Bane

“How did this happen?” Selena’s voice trembled as she spoke, sitting beside the bed where a young man with pale blue hair and ashen eyes lay motionless. The private ward was quiet, save for the faint hum of medical equipment. She had only been able to get into after threatening the heck out of the vice-principal, to the point where he could no longer deny her access.

“Why…? After everything I did… Why did this happen?” she whispered, her hands gripping his limp, cold fingers. Her own hands trembled as tears slipped down her amber eyes, trailing her cheeks like molten gold.

The young man remained unresponsive, lost in a deep and unreachable slumber. His body grew colder with each passing second, his pale blue hair steadily draining of color, turning stark white.

He was slipping away.

Fading fast.

The merging had begun once more.

Selena’s heart clenched as she realized how powerless she truly was when compared to greater powers. She had managed to prevent this from happening once before—barely. But now…

It had gone too far.

It was too late.

This wasn’t the first time ‘she’ had orchestrated the merging of the three souls. It wasn’t the first time Selena had watched the process start only to see it fail. And every failure carried a devastating consequence.

Failure meant only one thing.

“Please… you can’t die on me. Not again. NOT AFTER EVERYTHING!” Her voice broke as she squeezed his icy hand, desperation pouring from her every word.

Despite everything, she still couldn’t understand ‘her’ motives—’her’ obsession to merge the three souls, no matter the cost. But it wasn’t possible, not without destroying Ryan completely. And this was already the third attempt.

What broke Selena’s heart most was knowing that each attempt left Ryan’s soul weaker, more fragile. There was only so much he could endure before…

….he ceased to exist entirely.

“You have to fight, Ryan,” she pleaded, her voice thick with grief. “You have to fight it. Don’t give in. You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

Her grip tightened as if holding him physically would anchor him to life. She gritted her teeth, forcing her next words past the lump in her throat.

“I know it must hurt,” she choked out, her voice breaking into sobs. Tears fell freely now, unstoppable streams of raw regret and despair. “I know how much it must hurt to remember everything… to remember what I did to you.”

Her head bowed, shame and sorrow weighing her down. The memories—the mistakes she had made, the selfish choices—rose like specters in her mind. Each one a catalyst for the events that had led to this moment.

“I was stupid,” she whispered, tears dripping onto his hand. “I was selfish. I didn’t think about what would happen. About you.” She wiped her eyes hastily, though the tears came faster than she could stop them.

“You must hate me.” Her voice cracked as she laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “I can’t even imagine how much you must hate me. And maybe I deserve it.”

Her gaze lingered on his face—so peaceful, so utterly devoid of life. It was unbearable.

“…It doesn’t matter anymore,” she continued after a pause, her voice soft but resolute. “I don’t care if you despise me when you wake up. Whatever happens, I’ll accept it. Just… please wake up. Please.”

Her voice cracked as she fell to her knees beside his bed. A golden glow enveloped her trembling hands. The glow intensifying, bathing the room in an otherworldly light. It was her final plea, her final act of defiance against the inevitable.

“Just… wake up…”

…

…

A young man stood amidst the carnage, his white, flowing hair gleaming under the sun’s golden rays. His purple eyes, cold and indifferent, surveyed the scattered corpses of demi-gods around him. Gripping his sword tightly, he exhaled a soft sigh.

“Pitiful,” he murmured, his voice devoid of emotion. With a flick of his wrist, he swung the blade, scattering droplets of blood onto the ground.

The sunlight bathed his striking features—fair skin, high cheekbones, and a chiseled face that exuded both dominance and divine allure. The very air around him hummed with mana, resonating quietly with each step he took. The energy swirled around him like playful children, dancing to an unseen rhythm.

But then he stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly. He felt it—a presence, distant yet unmistakable. It was unlike anything he had encountered before. Not a demi-god, nor a celestial being. And yet, it wasn’t human either.

“What are you?” he muttered under his breath, curiosity tugging at him.

Taking a step forward, the world seemed to warp and fold around him. In an instant, he found himself standing by a tranquil beach. Before him stretched the mesmerizing expanse of the ocean, the setting sun casting hues of amber and crimson across the waves.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice called out, soft and melodic.

Before him stood the most breathtaking being he had ever laid eyes on—surpassing even the goddess of beauty herself. Her long pink hair cascaded down her back, straight and lustrous, glowing faintly in the amber light. Golden eyes, radiant as twin suns, gazed at the horizon with an almost ethereal serenity. Her figure was perfection personified, every contour and curve exuding an unearthly allure.

“Who are you?” he asked, his grip on his sword tightening.

“Just a passerby,” she replied with a serene smile, her gaze drifting back to the horizon.

But her next words shattered the stillness. “Where are your brothers, Elohim and Adonai?”

His eyes darkened, and in the blink of an eye, he was upon her. The blade of his sword hovered dangerously close to her neck, his expression colder than ever.

“How do you know me? Who are you? Who sent you?” he demanded, his voice like ice.

Yet, beneath his steely exterior, lay confusion.

Weak.

She was weaker than even the most ordinary human.

But how?

She met his glare without flinching, her smile unfaltering. “How do I know you? How could I not know Elyon, the bane of the gods? The strongest among the Trinity,” she said, her tone light, as though the sword threatening her life was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“No one sent me,” she continued. “As for who I am… you can call me Diana.”

Her grin widened, a mix of mischief and mystery dancing in her golden eyes.