A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

”Fifth Circle Spell—Skyfall Tempest!”

The compressed wind swallowed the corridor.

Stone shattered beneath the violent currents. Dust and fragments of masonry spiraled through the passage as the force of Seraphina’s Fifth Circle spell tore into the demon.

Its elongated limbs whipped through the storm, striking walls and pillars as it struggled to regain its footing. Cuts spread across its body, and dark blood scattered into the turbulent air.

For several seconds, the creature disappeared inside the raging wind.

Then the currents began to weaken.

Seraphina lowered her hand, breathing heavily.

Her spell had landed.

But she had not felt the demon’s presence disappear.

A distorted silhouette emerged from the fading tempest. One of its elongated arms dragged against the floor, leaving a dark trail behind it. Its body was battered, and several wounds had been carved across its flesh.

Yet it was still standing.

The creature raised its head.

Its remaining strength was more than enough to kill her if she made a mistake.

Seraphina’s fingers tightened.

So even that wasn’t enough.

The S-Rank Celestial Codex allowed her to comprehend and execute magic beyond her current circle. It had given her access to a Fifth Circle spell, but it had not granted her the mana reserves of a true Fifth Circle Mage.

She had forced the spell into existence by drawing upon nearly everything she possessed.

Now, there was little left.

The demon’s elongated arm suddenly shot toward her.

Seraphina moved sideways.

The claws grazed her shoulder before slamming into the pillar behind her. Stone burst apart, and fragments struck her back as she stumbled away.

Pain flashed through her shoulder.

She suppressed the urge to look at the wound.

There was no time.

The demon wrenched its arm free and attacked again.

Seraphina retreated through the rubble, forcing the creature to follow her into the narrowest section of the corridor. Broken pillars and fallen stones restricted its movements, preventing its elongated limbs from attacking freely from every direction.

It was not a solution.

Only a little more time.

And at the moment, a little more time was all she could afford.

---

Andras’s breathing had grown ragged.

His injuries were beginning to catch up with him. Each movement pulled at his damaged ribs, while the wound across his torso burned beneath his clothes.

The Sovereign Predator Physique had allowed him to push beyond his ordinary limits, but it had not made him invincible.

Varkhaz was suffering too.

The demon’s left side was badly wounded, and the deep injury beneath his ribs continued to bleed. His movements were no longer as fluid as they had been at the beginning of the battle.

But the difference in their physical strength remained considerable.

Varkhaz could still overwhelm him in a direct contest.

Andras had to make sure there was no direct contest.

The demon came at him with a furious roar.

Andras shifted away from the attack, but his injured ribs slowed his movement. One of Varkhaz’s claws caught his side, tearing through fabric and opening another shallow wound.

Pain shot through his body.

He stumbled.

Varkhaz’s grin widened.

”You’re finished, human!”

The demon pressed forward, swinging his claws with brutal force.

Andras barely avoided the first strike. The second drove him backward, forcing his boots across the broken stone.

His sword arm trembled.

One more mistake, and I’m dead.

He had already pushed his body close to its limit. His mana was running low, and the Sovereign Predator Physique could not sustain him indefinitely.

He needed to end this now.

But Varkhaz was not giving him an opening.

The demon attacked again, forcing Andras to retreat toward a damaged pillar. His back nearly struck the stone before he changed direction at the last moment.

Varkhaz’s claws crashed into the pillar instead.

A deep crack spread across its surface.

Andras’s gaze sharpened.

The demon tore his claws free and turned toward him, furious at having missed.

He was still relying on brute force.

Still pressing forward without considering the damage his own attacks were causing to the battlefield.

Andras had noticed that tendency from the beginning.

Now, it might be the only advantage he had left.

Varkhaz lunged.

Andras raised his sword to intercept the attack, but he did not try to stop its full force. He angled the blade, allowing the impact to slide past him as he moved toward the demon’s wounded side.

The maneuver tore at his injured shoulder.

He ignored it.

His sword flashed toward the wound beneath Varkhaz’s ribs.

The demon twisted away just in time.

The blade cut across his side, drawing another line of blood, but it failed to reach anything vital.

Varkhaz snarled and struck back.

Andras ducked beneath the sweeping claws. The attack passed over his head and smashed into the already damaged pillar.

This time, the stone gave way.

The upper section collapsed with a deafening crash.

Varkhaz reacted instinctively, shifting his weight to avoid the falling debris.

For a fraction of a second, his stance broke.

That was all Andras needed.

He stepped inside the demon’s reach.

His longsword drove toward the existing wound beneath Varkhaz’s ribs.

The demon twisted violently, preventing the blade from reaching as deeply as Andras intended. Even so, the steel bit into the damaged flesh.

Varkhaz roared.

His claws swept toward Andras’s head.

Andras abandoned his attempt to push the sword farther and threw himself aside.

The claws missed him by a narrow margin.

Their force struck the rubble behind him, scattering broken stone across the corridor.

Andras landed hard.

Agony flared through his ribs, and for an instant, his vision blurred.

He forced himself upright.

Across from him, Varkhaz pressed one hand against his side. Blood seeped between his fingers.

The demon’s expression had changed.

His confidence was giving way to fury.

”You filthy—”

He charged before finishing the insult.

Andras watched him approach.

The attack was powerful.

Fast.

And completely predictable.

Varkhaz had sustained too many injuries to maintain his earlier speed, but his anger was driving him to compensate with force. He was no longer carefully controlling his movements.

He wanted to crush Andras before his wounds could weaken him further.

Andras tightened his grip on the longsword.

He needed one mistake.

Varkhaz’s claws descended toward his chest.

Andras moved just far enough to avoid the full strike. The claws tore across his clothing and grazed his torso, sending a fresh burst of pain through his body.

He nearly lost his footing.

Varkhaz immediately followed with his other hand, attempting to seize him before he could escape.

Andras did not retreat.

He stepped toward the demon.

Varkhaz’s eyes widened slightly as the distance between them collapsed.

The demon tried to pull his wounded side away, but his previous injuries betrayed him. His movement was a fraction slower than it should have been.

Andras drove forward with the last of his strength.

His sword slipped beneath Varkhaz’s jaw and pierced his throat.

For an instant, neither moved.

Varkhaz’s claws remained suspended beside Andras’s body.

The demon tried to speak.

Only a broken, wet sound escaped his throat.

His grip weakened.

The claws fell away from Andras, striking the stone with a dull scrape.

Andras twisted the blade and pulled it free before stumbling backward.

Varkhaz staggered.

One hand rose toward his throat, pressing uselessly against the wound. His knees buckled, and his massive body crashed onto the rubble.

The impact echoed through the corridor.

And then—

Silence.

Andras stood motionless, his sword hanging at his side.

He waited several seconds, watching the demon’s body for any sign of movement.

Nothing.

Only then did he allow himself to breathe.

His legs threatened to give way beneath him. He planted the tip of his sword against the floor and used it to steady himself.

The battle was over.

Barely.

He looked down at Varkhaz’s corpse.

The demon had possessed a Mid Fifth Circle Warrior realm, a B-Rank Lesser Abyssal Bloodline, and a B-Rank talent capable of turning his claws into terrifying weapons.

Andras had defeated him despite the difference in strength.

But victory had come at a price.

His body was battered, his mana was nearly exhausted, and even standing upright had become an effort.

He could not afford to linger here.

Still, there was one thing he needed to do before leaving.

Andras focused on the System.

Devour the talent and bloodline.

[Ding!]

[Beginning devouring process.]

[Devouring successful.]

[Host has acquired: Ruinous Claws (B-Rank)]

[Host has acquired: Lesser Abyssal Bloodline (B-Rank)]

Andras stared at the notifications.

For a moment, the pain and exhaustion seemed distant.

Then a smile slowly spread across his face.

A quiet laugh escaped him.

He had risked his life for these acquisitions, and the battle had nearly ended with his corpse lying beside Varkhaz’s.

But the rewards were real.

Ruinous Claws.

Lesser Abyssal Bloodline.

Two valuable additions to his growing arsenal.

He dismissed the notifications and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

”Well,” he muttered, ”that was almost a disaster.”

The remark sounded far more casual than he felt.

He forced himself to straighten, then glanced toward the corridor ahead.

He still had to find Seraphina.