The deep, robotic voice rang inside Razeal's head, uninvited and annoyingly smug. He rolled his eyes, lips twitching into a bitter half-smile.
"When did it become four Duke families, you idiot?" he muttered under his breath. "You only counted thre. And I have no beef with the Faereliths. As far as I remember."
[The whole world hates you anyway] the system responded without hesitation. [Even if you don't stand on their bad side, they'll get there eventually because that is your fate.]
Razeal didn't bother replying. It was useless. The voice in his head had been with him for six years now relentless, cynical, and always right. Arguing with it only made his mood worse, and today was already heavy enough.
That's when it started.
He'd awakened his system at ten years old. A moment that should've changed everything for the better.
This wasn't just any world. It was a novel. Literally. A fictional realm he once read about in his past life. The title? The Chosen One.
A heroic tale with brave warriors, ancient magic, sacred bloodlines, and of course the shining protagonist destined to save the world.
No, Razeal had been reborn as a villain. The final boss. The "ultimate threat" who dies to fuel the hero's last evolution. Not just any villain, either. One with a noble background, big titles, and a legacy soaked in Power.
Because let's face it heroes can be orphans, but villains? They always come from somewhere grand.
His full name used to be Razeal Virelan, second son of Duke Virelan, heir to the Mindveil legacy. A boy born with the promise of illusion and sword a blend few could hope to match.
But that name was taken from him.
Stripped Punished and Exciled.
He was cast out at eleven, exiled from his home like a stain too shameful to scrub clean. His own mother stood there as the gates shut behind him, not a flicker of guilt in her eyes.
He had once tried to remember everything that happened in between every wrong turn, every naive belief. But over time, those memories dulled becoming. Not because they stopped hurting, but because they stopped mattering.
There's no point holding on to memories that hold no meaning anymore.
"I know," Razeal sighed as he noticed the very small movement in the right corner a knight had just stepped toward him. Barely a shift in stance, but enough for someone like him to notice.
I wish you weren't useless, system, he complained internally. You have nothing like how systems are supposed to be in the novels I read. All you've given till now are disadvantages. And still, you always try to sound like I should stand up to your expectations and rules.
It's all because of the system. If not for it, would I have had to stay hidden for the last five years? Always running. Always one step from death. All that pain and suffering...
Then he paused, smirking slightly to himself.
Am I complaining too much these days?
Well, maybe it was because he hadn't talked to a human in five years. Speaking to himself had become a habit one he never intended to form.
System just went silent, no longer speaking.
And now, I guess he doesn't have any choice. He would have to show his self. Let's say he doesn't get attacked directly, but it can never be like that. If it would be like that, would he have come here? He came because he is confident that nothing will happen here.
And also, he doesn't want to be hidden. Because of many reason. For also reasons he can't say. Who knows, maybe someone can read his thoughts. And not like he wasn't going to do this anyways. He has to participate in plans...
"I will trust you last time, system. If this time you failed me, you will be my enemy from now on too. Will be better if you didn't lie to me," he said, as finally, with cold face, extended his hands up as he removed robe which was covering his head letting out his dark royal purple hairs out in air, his face all clear for everyone too see.
[Thanks] A low voice of system rang in his head, which for no reason, Razeal ignored entirely.
And just as he did, the knight who had eyes on his paused, looking at him silently, his eyes narrowing...
Those hair colours... he is a Virelan. And from direct bloodline of that.
He analysed everything just by the looks and appearance. The colours are royal blue means direct bloodline. And that small purple birthmark behind his neck...
There are only two direct. Well, not girl. So is he that exiled son of Duke Virelans? He is alive?
He guessed almost the whole thing in seconds after all, the knight of his rank...
Let's step back. It's not my position.
Still, instinct compelled him to send a silent signal, a subtle flicker of his gaze toward a guard stationed some distance away. The message was clear: remain vigilant.
All of it unfolded in less than ten seconds.
Razeal didn't so much as glance at the Knight not once. His gaze was fixed, unblinking, on the empty space before him, as if Expecting something inevitable.
One... two... five... seven... nine.
Grandmaster at very minimum right?he thought while counting at same time. No doubt.
A sudden breeze brushed through his hair a sensation he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity.
Then, without warning, a golden beam of light shot forth from a viewing chamber high above. It cut through the air like a divine arrow, it was a figure clad in gleaming golden knight armor launched forward with blinding speed. The knight's sword, radiating unimaginable power, shot toward Razeal's neck in a deadly arc.
"For your blasphemy and vile acts, face your judgment."
But Razeal didn't move. A small smile appeared on his face one he had already begun to form long before this moment.