Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Chapter 114 The Mastermind [II]

It was mayhem.

Mundane guards were either shooting at each other or activating their enchanted artifacts.

Meanwhile, the Awakened had already deployed their Origin Cards.

This underground bunker was built to withstand attacks from low-level Spirit Beasts. Its reinforced walls were durable enough to contain the chaos of Awakened combat.

And so, in less than five minutes, the floor was already littered with corpses. Half of the people were dead.

”Your Eminence, watch out!”

A guard jumped in front of Bowden and took a bullet to his chest. He gasped painfully and collapsed to the ground, dead.

Bowden cursed under his breath, but before he could react, another guard stepped in front of him.

This one was Awakened.

Without hesitation, he raised a hand, and an energy barrier shimmered into existence, shielding the High Priest from the oncoming hail of bullets.

Bowden barely had time to process the first manʼs sacrifice before another barrage of gunfire erupted.

Bullets slammed into the energy barrier, their impacts sending ripples across its translucent surface.

The Awakened guarding him gritted his teeth, his fingers trembling as he funneled even more energy into the shield.

Across the room, Everan moved like a wraith.

The Overlord was strong.

His innate power allowed him to compress air and release it in crescent arcs. Basically, he could shoot blades of wind sharp enough to carve through flesh and bone.

He could also manipulate high-pressure air to blanket his body, softening the impact of physical attacks.

It was a power that was both offensive and defensive — allowing him to go on a rampage without needing to be concerned about his own safety.

And that was exactly what he was doing.

He was cutting through his enemies with brutal efficiency.

They tried to shoot him down, but the bullets never reached him, dropping harmlessly to the ground as they met the invisible wall of his air barrier.

His Awakened warriors fought alongside him, their glowing Origin Cards hovering around them.

”Hold the line!” Bowden shouted. His voice was barely audible over the carnage. ”We outnumber them! They canʼt—”

Booom—!!

An explosion rocked the bunker.

The ceiling groaned as dust and debris rained down.

One of the energy-powered lamps flickered, plunging half the room into darkness for a moment.

When the light returned, Everan was already moving toward Bowden with the grace of a predator.

Several of Bowdenʼs guards rushed forward to stop him, but most of them were intercepted by the enemy men.

The unlucky few who did make it to the Overlord died almost instantly.

He was an unstoppable force. He tore through the flesh of whoever dared to step too close to him as if they were made of paper.

He ripped them apart.

Blood dripped from his hands, and his dark eyes locked onto Bowden with lethal intent.

”You talk too much,” he sneered, stepping forward as even more guards rushed at him.

Bowdenʼs breath hitched as he took a step back. His guards still outnumbered Everanʼs men two to one.

But at the rate Everan was butchering them, numbers would soon mean nothing.

…And yet, Bowdenʼs lips curved into a bitter smile.

He had been prepared for this.

The day he shook hands with the Overlord, he knew he needed to find a way to kill him should things ever go south.

Because if you were making a deal with a monster, you had to be certain you could slay it when the time came.

So, a few weeks ago, Bowden spent a large chunk of his resources in order to acquire an artifact powerful enough to level the playing field.

Since he wasnʼt Awakened himself, the only way for him to kill a [B-rank] Awakened was to wield a weapon that could do the job.

And now was the time to use it.

Tied to his waist was a black satchel. It was a small leather bag, resembling an unassuming fanny pack.

In truth, it was a high-grade artifact capable of storing objects several times its size.

Bowden opened the bag and reached inside it with a hand.

Inside, his fingers wrapped around cold metal.

A moment later, he pulled out a long staff adorned with several metallic rings at its tip. A high-grade Essence stone was embedded in its handle, shining with a bright yellow glow.

It was a shakujō.

Bowden turned to his left, where a young boy with a bald head was standing quietly. That was his informant.

”Go, my child,” Bowden said to him. ”Buy me some time.”

The boy met his gaze and nodded respectfully. He pulled his hood up to cover his face and instantly summoned his Origin Card.

He was only a [C-rank] Awakened with a weak innate power. Against the Overlord, he stood no chance.

But Bowden had no other option. His artifact was powerful, but it needed time to charge.

Ten seconds.

That was all the boy needed to buy him.

”Donʼt die,” Bowden said.

”Yes, High Priest,” the boy answered calmly. He took a deep breath, then pressed his hands together.

A thin veil of shimmering light spread across his body. It was a defensive ability meant to bolster his durability.

But against a monster like Everan, it was like trying to stop a hurricane with an umbrella.

In front of him, the Overlord was locked in combat with a man. He was distracted.

The boy took this chance and dashed forward.

At that exact moment, Everan plunged his hand into his enemyʼs chest, crushing his heart and killing him on the spot.

Before the dead body dropped to the ground, the boy leaped high in the air.

And by the time Everan sensed him, it was too late — he was already descending like a meteor.

Shock flickered in the Overlordʼs eyes as the boy spun mid-air and brought his leg down in an overhead kick.

Everan only had enough time to raise his arms in defense and block the blow. But aside from being a little surprised, he was unscathed.

His hand shot out and grabbed the boyʼs leg.

Then, he whirled around and threw the boy aside like a ragdoll.

The boy hit the ground hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop. He groaned weakly but wasted no time to push himself up and rush forward once again.

Everan frowned. This young man was tougher than he looked. His movements were unrefined, but he had the talent to fight.

Unfortunately, talent wouldnʼt save him tonight. His loyalty was going to get him killed.

Everan raised his hand and unleashed a wind blade.

But the boy didnʼt stop. He ducked under the incoming wind blade and kept running.

Everanʼs frown deepened.

Dodging his wind blades wasnʼt easy.

The wind was invisible, after all.

You needed exceptional instincts to evade an invisible attack.

The boy lunged forward and swept his leg in a wide arc toward Everanʼs chin.

But once again, Everan caught the boyʼs leg with effortless ease and halted his attack like it was nothing.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he unleashed another wind blade.

With his leg trapped, the boy had no way to dodge. He twisted his torso at the last possible moment, desperately trying to protect his vital organs, but the blade still tore across his left shoulder, leaving behind a deep gash.

Blood spurted from his wound, and he screamed in agony as the Overlord slammed him into the ground.

Hurt and unable to get back up, he writhed on the cold floor, gasping for breath.

Everan loomed over him like a shadow of death.

Without a speck of mercy, the Overlord outstretched his hand, gathering the air into a razor-sharp blade — ready to end the boyʼs life.

But before he could do it, Bowdenʼs voice rang out from behind him. ”Stop, Everan!”

Everan scowled and turned.

The High Priest was standing a few steps away from him, but what caught Everanʼs attention was the shakujō in his grip.

”A monkʼs staff?” Everan scoffed, unfazed. ”I knew you had a trump card, but thatʼs it? How do you plan to kill me with that? Shame me to death?”

Bowden didnʼt answer. He simply tightened his grip on the staff and took a slow step forward. The rings at its tip jingled softly.

Then, with a deep breath, he struck the base of the staff against the metal ground.

BOOM—!!

A pulse of energy erupted from the impact, sending a shockwave rippling through the room.

The air itself trembled as a powerful force spread outward.

Everanʼs smirk faltered. A strange pressure bore down on him, and for the first time, his air barrier wavered, distorting unnaturally.

”What…?” he muttered.

Bowdenʼs bitter smile widened.

”This isnʼt just a monkʼs staff, Overlord,” he said mockingly. ”Itʼs called [Faith Sealer].”

Everanʼs pupils shrank.

[Faith Sealer]. It was an artifact capable of suppressing an Awakenedʼs Origin Card.

But realization struck too late.

Bowden slammed the staff against the ground once more, and the high-pressure air around Everan collapsed — his barrier vanishing in an instant.

Even his Origin Card dissipated into light particles and returned to his soul.

Bowden then swiftly reached into his leather bag and pulled out a handgun, aiming it at Everan.

But instead of hesitating or showing even a flicker of fear, the Overlord merely crossed his arms over his head and charged forward like a raging bull.

Bowden pulled the trigger.

The first shot struck Everan in the abdomen.

But he didnʼt stop.

He didnʼt even flinch.

Bowden fired again. And again.

Bullets tore into Everanʼs right leg, left thigh, both arms — and several more punched into his abdomen.

Yet he didnʼt stop.

He kept speeding forward like an unstoppable truck.

Step after step, he closed the distance, tanking the bullets as if his body was made of iron.

Bowdenʼs eyes widened in horror as the gun clicked empty. He was out of bullets.

Before he could react, Everan slammed into him shoulder-first, sending him flying backward.

Bowden crashed into the bunkerʼs cold, metallic wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.

Several of his ribs were crushed.

The emptied gun slipped from his fingers as he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

The Overlord himself wasnʼt in much better shape. He had been shot twelve times, and his wounds were bleeding profusely.

But he was still on his feet.

He was weak and staggering — but still walking toward the High Priest.

Breathing raggedly, Everan came to stand before Bowden.

The High Priest remained on his knees, coughing violently.

”You foolish man,” the Overlord snarled. ”Do you know the difference between a [C-rank] Awakened and a [B-rank]?”

His voice was hoarse but brimming with rage.

”We can circulate Essence. We are harder to kill. You thought suppressing my powers would level the playing field for you?!” His lips curled into a bloodstained sneer. ”We Awakened are closer to gods than men, you fool! You can never— khuaaa!”

Everanʼs rant was cut short by a sharp jolt of pain that assaulted his chest. He let out a gasp as his body stiffened.

It took him a second to realize that someone had stabbed him from behind.

With trembling eyes, he slowly looked down and saw a bloodied blade sticking out from his chest.

His mind reeled, struggling to process the sensation — cold, burning agony spreading through his body.

Bowden blinked, equally stunned.

Behind Everan stood the young boy from before, his hood fallen back to reveal his sweat-slicked face.

His small hands trembled as he gripped the hilt of a bloodstained artifact.

He had grabbed this sword from a corpse on the ground and stabbed Everan with it when his back was turned.

The boyʼs expression was unreadable as he twisted the blade.

Everan choked. A wet, ragged sound escaped his throat. He staggered forward, his knees nearly buckling as his body betrayed him.

The boy didnʼt hesitate.

With a resolute breath, he wrenched the sword free — blood sprayed across the bunker floor.

Then, with both hands, he raised the blade high and swung.

The sword cleaved clean through flesh and bone.

Everanʼs head separated from his shoulders and fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

For a moment, the Overlordʼs body remained standing, as if refusing to acknowledge its own death.

Then, slowly, it collapsed on the ground, lifeless.

The bunker fell silent.

The boy lowered the sword, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath as he stared at the severed head at his feet.

Bowden, still kneeling against the wall, exhaled shakily, ”…Good boy.”

And with that, the battle was over.

Everyone was dead — except for the young man and the High Priest.

They had won.

…Or so they thought.

The bunker door soon hissed open, and a golden-haired boy stepped inside.