CHAPTER 192: CHAPTER 192 : A VILLAIN (1)

[ Meanwhile a history-shaking incident was taking place somewhere else ]

[ 24 hours ago ]

The skies above Etheron were quiet, but within its lands, storms of war were brewing. Great empires of humans, vampires, elves, and countless other races all eyed one another with greed and suspicion.

Yet amidst these colossi, there existed smaller kingdoms who refused to bend.

Instead of begging for protection and risking being consumed by the empires, these smaller nations forged bonds of solidarity, vowing to defend one another from threats both mortal and abyssal.

One such proud land was the Kingdom of Etheria—a jewel among the minor nations, where humans, dwarves, and beastfolk coexisted. Though small in scale, Etheria was respected for its unity, wealth of resources, and the strength of its allies. But today, Etheria stood on the brink of annihilation.

Inside the royal palace, the air was suffocatingly tense.

A lone messenger stood in the center of the throne room.

His robes were black as tar, etched with runes that faintly writhed as if alive. His expression was calm, almost serene, yet a twisted smile clung to his lips.

The courtiers, knights, and advisors of Etheria eyed him with hatred and unease. This man was no diplomat of empire nor merchant envoy. He was a harbinger.

A messenger of the Cult of the Abyss.

His voice slithered like poison across the chamber.

"His Excellency offers you a choice, King Calem van Boris. Surrender now, and your people will be spared the horror of resistance. Refuse..." His smile widened unnaturally, teeth glinting sharp under the torchlight. "And tomorrow, thirty thousand of His soldiers will march and bury Etheria beneath the ground."

Gasps and murmurs broke through the chamber. Ministers whispered in alarm. Soldiers gripped their weapons.

King Calem, a tall, broad man with maroon hair and a crimson cloak of state, sat on his throne, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His voice thundered like steel striking steel.

"Do you want to die?"

He leaned forward, his glare cutting through the messenger’s false composure.

"I only allowed you to enter my court because you claimed the cult would help elevate my kingdom into an empire. Yet now, you dare spout this drivel before me?"

The messenger chuckled—a low, eerie sound that made the chandeliers tremble. His tone was mocking, reverent, and horrifyingly assured all at once.

"This is help, Your Majesty. He shall grant you... salvation. You will be freed from the shackles of crown and throne. No longer a weary ruler of a fragile kingdom—your lands shall be remade into an empire by our Little Lord. All He asks... is your surrender."

The smile spread wider, almost splitting his face.

"Accept... or tomorrow, war shall come. And your royal head will roll upon the stones of your own castle."

For a moment, silence reigned. Then King Calem’s booming laughter echoed across the throne room, deep and merciless.

"Are you a fool? My kingdom may be small, but we are the heart of the united border nations. We have their full support!"

He rose from his throne, his crimson cloak unfurling like bloodied wings.

"One hundred thousand soldiers stand ready to answer our call, bolstered by hundreds of grandmasters, armed with advanced weaponry beyond your imagination. And you dare tell me your thirty thousand will topple us?!"

His voice roared with fury.

"I see now—allying with the cult was my only mistake. You people worship madness itself, following a will beyond comprehension!"

He raised his hand, pointing toward the messenger.

"Kill him! Send his head back to whatever abyss spawned him!"

At once, soldiers surrounded the messenger, blades drawn, mana flaring.

But the man did not tremble. He only laughed. A sound so foul it made the tapestries shiver.

"Excellent. You are exactly as He foresaw. Prepare, then, King Calem—prepare for bloodshed. For tomorrow marks the first step in His march. He shall claim this world... and lead it to salvation."

Before anyone could strike, the messenger’s body began to glow. His flesh cracked with dark light, his smile widening grotesquely.

"Glory... to the Abyss."

BOOM!

A cataclysmic explosion ripped through the throne room. Fire, darkness, and warped mana engulfed everything in a radius of fifty meters.

Marble shattered, pillars collapsed, and dozens of officials and guards were incinerated instantly.

Yet amid the carnage, King Calem remained unharmed—shielded by a shimmering barrier woven by the grandmasters who had rushed to his side in the nick of time. Even so, their faces were pale with dread.

The king swallowed hard, sweat forming on his brow as he stared at the smoldering crater where the messenger once stood.

’He was only an Advance-rank... yet he caused this level of destruction?’

He clenched his fists.

’Are these... Abyssal Marionettes everyone was talking about—the invention of the cult? If the cult has more of these...’

He dared not finish the thought. The possibilities chilled him more than the flames.

Calem’s voice trembled with restrained fury.

"Send word to all our allied kingdoms—immediately! Reinforcements must march at once. From tomorrow... we go to war!"

Within hours, Etheria was transformed.

The borders of the kingdom bristled with soldiers—over 300,000 strong, their banners snapping in the wind.

Mana cannons and siege golems lined the walls. Hundreds of grandmasters hovered above the battlements, their auras shaking the earth as they prepared for war. The air itself seemed to vibrate with determination and fear.

And yet, fifty kilometers away, a different sight emerged.

In a barren field, a castle of black stone rose impossibly fast, conjured into existence within an hour. Its towers clawed toward the sky, shadows writhing across its surface like living veins. It was not built by mortal hands.

Inside a dimly lit chamber within that fortress sat a boy—no older than fifteen. His hair was darker than midnight, swallowing the light around it. His eyes were voids, blacker than any abyss, yet deep enough to drown souls in despair. His very presence bent the air, as though the world itself feared him.

The child of abyssal darkness. The Abyss given form.

And he smiled.

A smile that could chill anyone to the core, as if he had already foreseen it all.

The chamber was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of enchanted braziers.

A grand chessboard sat between them, pieces carved from crystal and obsidian. The black-haired boy leaned back lazily, his sharp, abyssal eyes scanning the board with detached amusement.

Across from him, a young woman with flowing green hair and eyes like polished emeralds sat in perfect poise.

Her beauty was striking, but her aura was one of etiquette, dignity, and loyalty. She moved a piece with delicate grace, her voice soft and refined.

"My lord, your turn."

Kyle’s dark gaze swept across the board. He reached out casually, his movements almost bored.

A few exchanges passed in silence, the clack of chess pieces echoing in the vast room. Then, within minutes, her king was cornered.

Kyle smirked faintly, leaning forward as his piece landed with finality.

"Arya, you’re too boring. Always too easy to trap."

The green-haired woman lowered her head slightly, her tone steady but laced with reverence.

"My lord, you’re simply too good. I’ve never seen anyone best you in chess... and I doubt anyone ever will."

Kyle chuckled softly, brushing his midnight-black bangs from his eyes.

"Well, you’re right. Across this world, I’ve participated in countless competitions. Not a single one ever posed a challenge. I’ve yet to find someone... worth my time."

Just then, a voice slithered into his head, mocking and amused.

[ You’re flattering yourself too much. ]

Kyle’s smirk twitched. He tilted his head slightly, speaking in his mind.

’You really like pissing me off, don’t you, Sabrina? For a primordial goddess, you act like a spoiled child.’

The voice snapped back with a hiss.

[ Shut up, brat. ]

Kyle’s lips curled upward in amusement, about to reply, when a knock echoed on the chamber door. Arya rose with flawless composure and opened it.

A woman with hair the color of crimson fire and eyes like frost bowed as she entered. Her voice was calm but carried urgency.

"My lord, the thirty thousand marionettes stand ready for deployment."

Kyle’s eyes gleamed, his smile widening.

"Perfect. It seems it’s time to have some fun."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on a striking woman with crimson hair—Melina—who leaned against the wall with folded arms, her beauty sharp and dangerous.

"How many do they have against me, Melina?"

Melina exhaled, brushing her hair back as her crimson gaze locked onto him.

"At least three hundred thousand, my lord." She hesitated, then sighed. "You don’t have to do this. With one order, we could erase those insects in a blink. Why must you insist on doing this the hard way? I don’t understand."

Kyle’s expression cooled, the abyss within his eyes swirling. His voice carried weight, each word like a blade.

"Melina. Keep your voice down."

Her breath hitched, eyes lowering instantly.

"Forgive me, my lord."

Kyle’s tone softened slightly, though it carried no warmth.

"It’s fine. You’re worried for me. But I want to deal with Calem personally. After all..." His eyes darkened, the shadows deepening around him. "He and I have history. And what better way to begin taking over the world... than by settling old debts?"

Melina bowed her head, suppressing a sigh.

"As you command."

Kyle rose, his aura crackling faintly with power.

"Then let’s go. It’s time to begin the game."

The great doors opened, and outside awaited a terrifying sight. Lined in perfect formation, thirty thousand marionettes stood.

Their armor was jet black, etched with a symbol of a broken crown across their chests. Their faces were hidden behind expressionless masks, yet their synchronization radiated unnatural menace.

Kyle raised his hand. His smirk widened.

"Start laughing."

In perfect unison, thirty thousand throats unleashed eerie, humanlike laughter, filling the night sky with madness.

"Now cry."

Instantly, the sound shifted into a chorus of weeping, raw and haunting, as though thirty thousand men and women had lost everything in despair.

Kyle’s grin widened.

"Perfect. Each one works exactly as intended."

He turned to Melina.

"Remind me to compliment Kellian when we return."

Melina bowed low.

"He would be honored to receive your praise, my lord."

Kyle flicked his hand lazily.

"Begin the teleportation process."

Melina drew her wand, intricate runes glowing across its length. She began chanting, her voice weaving with mana as a colossal magic circle spread beneath their feet, stretching across the entire army. The air crackled with power, bending and folding upon itself.

In a single flash of light—thirty thousand marionettes, Arya, Melina, and Kyle vanished.

Five kilometers from Etheria’s walls, a blinding light erupted, forcing soldiers to shield their eyes. From the radiance emerged the black-haired boy, flanked by his two female generals, and behind them, the endless tide of abyss-forged soldiers.

On Etheria’s walls, King Calem squinted, then smirked arrogantly.

"So it’s true. They’re fools. Thirty thousand against my three hundred thousand? I thought they were bluffing to trick me. This will be their grave."

Yet on the battlefield, Kyle stood unfazed. He brushed invisible dust from his coat, his abyssal eyes glowing faintly as he whispered.

"It’s my first time leading a war. Wish me luck."

Melina and Arya both smiled faintly, voices firm.

"We are always with you, my lord. You don’t need luck."

Kyle chuckled darkly.

"I doubt that."

His gaze swept across the vast enemy army.

’It’s just like chess... Let’s start the game.’

In his mind, the voice of Sabrina coiled like smoke.

[ Are you not going to use the Codex, Kyle? It’s one of the most powerful tools in the universe. Without it, you would never have grown this strong so fast. ]

Kyle’s lips twitched, realization dawning.

’The Codex... or as you once called it, the

"System."’

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A/N:

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