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

Chapter 354: The Supreme One [III]

He truly looked like a demon today.

His form was a massive silhouette against the crimson light spilling down from the atrium above. Spreading out from his back were two wings, tattered shrouds of shadow so dark that they seemed to swallow the air around him.

He did not resemble the weeping angel of benevolent radiance from Vahn’s memories. Right now, he looked like a cruel king preparing to pass judgment upon everything he had deemed unjust.

When he spoke, his voice was no longer light or playful as I had known it to be until then. It was heavy and pensive, saturated with a malice that was directed at no one in particular.

”I told you we would meet again.”

Since his entire face was obscured by a veil of darkness against the flood of bright moonlight, I suddenly realized he hadn’t had his eyes opened until then.

Because when he did open them, two burning orbs of crimson flared within that deep darkness and fixed onto me, glowing like dying embers in a starless sky.

A shiver ran down my spine despite my efforts to stay composed. ”Where are we?”

”They used to tell a myth in the lower heavens,” Asmodeus murmured, ignoring the question, ”of a godling who pitied mortals. He climbed the spiral of stars and stole fire from the divine forge, even after the gods warned him not to.”

I raised an eyebrow. What the fuck was he going on about?

I decided to play along. ”You mean Prometheus?”

The darkness stirred as the Prince of Temptations slowly shook his horned head. ”No. That is a version of the fable your world has retold. The true name of that godling was lost. But I can tell you this — whoever he was, it was not fire that he stole. It was choice.”

I waited for a few seconds in the deliberate silence that Asmodeus had enforced with his dramatic pause.

After a heartbeat or two, he stood up and stepped forward into the light. Moonshine caught his face, pale as snow and beautiful in the most heart-wrenching way, as though sorrow itself had carved his features.

”The godling gifted mortals the knowledge of defiance, of self-will. The gods called it a transgression,” he continued while descending the steps made of petrified sinners until he was towering right over me. ”I call it inheritance.”

•••

We moved through the temple in a silence so dense it felt like wading through sludge. Every step we took echoed against the high, vaulted ceiling.

Tap, Tap, Tap—

But the sound seemed hollow, as if being swallowed by sculpted figures that made up the wall.

”Where are we?” I asked again as we began climbing the stairs.

Once more, the demon prince ignored me.

”The right to choose one’s own path, even when it leads to ruin, is the birthright of sentient beings,” he all but growled out those words. ”Anyone who denies that freedom is a tyrant, whether they wear a crown of gold or a halo of light.”

I did not realize when we reached the terrace.

Without warning, the view changed one more time.

Gone were the majestic hallways and the suffocating atmosphere. Gone were the bleeding moon and fractured sky.

There was no forest, no mist, no monsters, no silver sea of tears.

This world that had unfurled before me was normal.

We stood on the precipice of a large overhang, gazing down upon what I could only assume were the people of Triviscaris.

That sight below was a jarring contrast compared to the nightmare jungle I’d been navigating.

The city was a sprawling marvel of ivory stone and shimmering bronze stretching in every direction, tall houses rising into even taller towers.

In the distance, a bridge of colorful lights arched across the sky, looking like a rainbow made solid. Yet no one walked upon it. Because as soon as their feet touched it, they vanished and reappeared on the far side.

And as for who they were?

I guess it would make more sense if I just called them aliens.

...Yet they did not look alien.

If we overlook how unnaturally lanky they were, or the extra eye set into their foreheads, they seemed very mundane. Very normal.

They seemed... almost human.

Only magically, and perhaps scientifically, far superior to us. But aside from all that, I could spot no difference.

Thousands of them filled the plazas, all three of their eyes blinking in the warmth of the golden sun that no longer actually existed.

They were laughing. They were arguing. Children were crying and playing while women were gossiping and carrying baskets of strange geometric fruits.

Some were sitting by the outdoor shops while most were moving through the streets with purpose to go about their day.

They were living their simple lives.

They were just normal people.

”We are at the Temple of First Rebellion,” Asmodeus answered at last.

But by then I had already realized it for myself.

”Of course,” he continued, ”it was not always called that. Once, it was merely a temple depicting the stories of fallen deities.”

I hesitated before asking, ”Why are we here?”

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye without fully turning. ”Why else? To show you that you stand on the wrong side of this war.”

I had to hold back a scoff before gesturing toward the city below. ”I don’t need lessons on right and wrong from you. You’re the one who doomed these people. They fought to protect your daughter. Vahn worked endlessly to craft a healing artifact. He would have saved them all in time if you hadn’t summoned the Spirit King for your petty revenge.”

I expected the demon to strike me down for my insolence, or at the very least, to roar in denial. Instead, Asmodeus let out a sound that was half-sigh and half-snarl.

”Petty revenge?” he whispered. ”You speak as though you understand. Vahn had lost himself. Even if he had restored the Triviscaris to their original forms, the gods would have come back again — this time to erase them completely, along with us. And my daughter...” his voice tightened, ”she was already gone. There was no saving her.”

He turned to face me completely.

”I did not summon the Supreme One for revenge. I summoned him for justice,” his expression was both heartbroken and fully resolute. ”He is a liberator, Samael. The true villains in this story are the gods.”

”Oh, really?” I laughed bitterly. ”If he’s not a villain then mind telling me what’s he doing invading worlds and corrupting species, creating these — what does he call these monsters twisted and enthralled by his ichor — the Defiled?”

Asmodeus shifted his shoulders in what might’ve been a shrug. ”Preparing. He is raising an army.”

This time I didn’t stop myself from scoffing. ”What, to kill the gods so he could replace them? This is how every tyrant thinks, you know? ’Oh, to end greater evil, I must be the necessary evil!’ But evil always remains in the end! The cycle will always continue!”

Asmodeus shook his head slowly.

”No.”

I frowned.

”No?”

”He will not replace them,” he said. ”When the gods are dead... he will end existence itself.”

...Oh.