I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space

Chapter 501: Calm Down Host

How can someone even do something like this? The question rose inside Sofia’s mind before she could stop it, sharp and helpless, as she stood beside Razeal and stared at the wagons spread across the border road. How could any kingdom dare to do something like this after everything Razeal had already shown his power and capabilities? He had literally killed a Supreme. He had taken a destroyed kingdom into his own hands. He had returned the dead. He had stood before thousands and threatened gods without lowering his eyes.

By now, every neighboring power should have at least been afraid enough to stay silent, to watch, to wait, to measure him carefully before making a move. Yet someone had not only made a move, they had done it like this. They had butchered helpless migrants and sent them back in wagons as if they were delivering spoiled goods. Was Osicade not afraid of Razeal’s strength? Was their ruler insane? Or was this the kind of message a ruler sent when he wanted to say, I will not bend and I will not fear you? Sofia could not understand it. Perhaps there were simply many crazy people in the world, people who would rather provoke a monster than look weak before their own nobles.

Perhaps this was not only cruelty, but politics. A warning? A refusal? A trap? Or just a challenge? But no matter how many reasons she tried to think of, none made the sight before her easier to accept. No reason could explain the small dead head inside the wagon. No reason could justify cutting children apart and packing them with adults like meat. Her thoughts broke apart again and again each time her eyes moved back toward the blood leaking from the wooden corners.

She looked silently toward Razeal. She had never seen him like this before. His head was slightly bowed, his silver hair falling forward and hiding part of his face. He was not shouting. He was not smiling coldly. He was not giving orders with that terrifying certainty he usually carried. He was simply standing there, motionless, as if the whole weight of what had happened had struck him so deeply that even his pride could not rise fast enough to cover it.

Sofia’s chest tightened. This was the moment she had feared from the beginning, though even she had never imagined it would take such a cruel form.

These were the consequences she had warned him about. Not exactly, not in this shape, not with wagons full of butchered bodies, but still consequences born from a command that had forced people to choose between faith and homeland. She had told him people would suffer. She had told him touching religion would turn the world against him even. She had told him he might not be able to carry what followed if he went with his plan.

Now that warning stood before them in wood, blood, and dead eyes. She wanted to say something.

Anything... But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Those words felt too small beside the wagons. Too weak. Too late.

Razeal slowly moved. His hand rose with a strange softness, and a single drop of blood gathered at the tip of his finger.

For a second, everyone around him stopped breathing. Lady Veyra’s eyes lifted slightly. Sofia’s heart caught inside her chest. Viper, Shade, Zero, and Blitz all watched without speaking. They knew what he was trying to do. They had seen or heard enough about the miracle he had performed before.

That impossible ability that had brought dead people back when the kingdom itself had drowned in grief. If anyone could undo this horror, it was him. If there was still even one thin thread connecting these bodies to life, perhaps Razeal could pull it back.

The blood drop fell from his finger in a slow, silent line and landed on the forehead of the little girl’s severed head. For one impossible moment, hope appeared even inside the fear. It was not bright hope. It was desperate, broken, almost begging hope. Then Razeal activated the power.

Nothing happened.

The drop of blood simply slid down the girl’s cold forehead, crossing the dried stains already covering her face before disappearing into the mangled flesh below. No breath returned. No light gathered. No heartbeat answered. The little girl’s dead eyes continued staring out from the wagon exactly as before.

The silence that followed was worse than any scream. Razeal remained still, his raised arm hanging halfway in the air for a moment, then slowly falling back down to his side.

”I cannot revive them,” he whispered. His voice was deep, very low, almost weak, as if the words had been pulled out of him unwillingly. It failed. That meant more than failure. It meant they had been dead for over twenty-four hours. It meant whatever chance he had to reverse this had already passed before the wagons even reached him. It meant the people inside were truly gone.

Lady Veyra hearing that turned her head away. She had not realized until that moment that she had been holding onto hope too. She had seen him perform miracles with her own eyes. Some part of her had believed, or wanted to believe, that even this could be fixed if Razeal reached out his hand.

But now there was no miracle. No reversal. No sudden return of crying children and confused parents. No second chance. She closed her eyes, unable to look at the wagons anymore. Sofia also lowered her gaze, pain moving across her face.

The assassins remained silent, but even they seemed heavier now. They had not expected to feel anything from this. They were trained killers, people who had seen death in many forms, but there was a difference between death in mission and this. There was a difference between a corpse and a child who could not be brought back.

The border road fell into a deep silence. Soldiers stood with their heads bowed. Civilians far behind the guard line whispered no more.

Even the horses seemed quieter, their restless movements slowing as if the grief in the air had pressed down upon them too. There might have been thousands of people in those wagons. No one had counted yet. No one wanted to open every door, but everyone knew. Families. Old men. Women. Children. People who had done nothing wrong except leave the kingdom when their king told them to leave if they could not obey his law.

They had wanted to live.

That was all.

They had wanted a place where they could keep their faith, raise their children, and continue breathing without fear. Instead, their journey ended in horror no one could properly imagine. No one knew how long they had suffered before death.

No one knew who begged, who cried, who tried to protect their children, who watched their families die first. No one knew if the little girl had called for her mother before her eyes became empty. And that ignorance made it worse, because the mind filled the silence with every terrible possibility.

Razeal stood there for minutes without moving. His eyes remained fixed on the bodies inside the wagon, unblinking, as if he was forcing himself to look because looking away would be cowardice.

Something inside him seemed damaged, not broken outwardly, but struck deep where no one could touch it. He had faced hatred before. He had faced blame before. He had accepted becoming a villain in the eyes of others. But this was different. This was not about his image. This was not about people calling him cruel. These were dead people who had walked out because of his command and returned because another kingdom decided their lives were worth less than a message. His fingers slowly curled and relaxed at his side, as if his body wanted rage but his heart had not yet reached it. Grief held him first. Guilt held him harder.

After three or four long moments more,

Sofia could not bear the sight of him standing like that. She took one careful step toward him. Her voice came softly, almost afraid to disturb the silence.

”It is not your fault,”

”You did not intend for something like this to happen.” The words were true in one way, and still they felt incomplete.

Razeal remained silent for several seconds. Then he spoke without looking at her.

”Yes,” he said quietly.

”I did not.” He paused, and his eyes moved slowly across the long line of wagons.

”But I gave the order.” His voice lowered further.

”And I am the reason this happened.”

Sofia’s lips parted, but he continued before she could speak.

”Every death here... I brought it. It is on my name.” He slowly extended one arm toward the wagons, toward the wood dripping blood, toward the hidden bodies inside.

”All these people... children, old men, women... I...” His words stopped there. He could not finish the sentence. His hand remained raised for only a moment before falling back down.

Then he turned toward Sofia. His face was still calm, but his eyes were not the same. There was sorrow there now, and something even more painful because it was not asking to be comforted. It was simply admitting the wound.

”You were right,” Razeal said, looking into her eyes.

”I would not be able to face the consequences of my actions.” His voice was low, honest, and tired in a way Sofia had never heard from him before. For once, there was no pride in it. No challenge. No cold wall. Only truth. Sofia opened her mouth to answer, but again, no words came. What could she say? That she was sorry? That it was not all his fault when he said it was? That he should be stronger? None of it would reach this moment properly. So she closed her mouth and only looked at him, her own eyes heavy with helpless pain.

Seeing that she could not say anything, Razeal lowered his gaze and looked back into the wagon. The little girl’s dead eyes still stared outward. The blood drop he had used had already dried into the rest of the stains. For a while, no one spoke.

Viper finally stepped forward slightly from behind him. His voice was low, controlled, but even there, something cold and sharp had entered it.

”We need to investigate who did this,” he said.

”Going directly into Osicade Kingdom may be exactly what they want. It could be planned or trap or just what they want.” His eyes moved across the wagons, the blood, the bodies, and the silent soldiers. A faint killing intent flashed in his gaze before disappearing again.

”We need to assess the situation, observe their border, gather all information, find who gave the order, who carried it out, and whether the kingdom itself is responsible or only one faction within it.” He paused, then continued more firmly.

”It will take time before we make the correct move. But I promise, everyone responsible for this will be cleared away.” His voice became darker on the last words.

”At minimum, it will take two days to gather enough reliable information. So I would advise against immediate action.”

The words were practical, and everyone knew they were right. But standing before those wagons, practicality felt cruel. Two days. Two more days while the dead waited. Two more days while the people who did this breathed freely. Two more days before justice could even begin. Yet rushing blindly into another kingdom could lead to more death, more traps, more bodies returned in wagons. Viper understood that. Lady Veyra understood it too. Sofia understood it painfully well.

Razeal’s eyes though did not move away from the inside of the wagon. Even after Viper spoke about investigation, traps, information, and waiting two days before acting, Razeal remained standing there as though his body had heard the words but his mind was still trapped among the bodies before him. His gaze stayed fixed on the little girl’s dead eyes, on the dried blood stuck to her face, on the small broken limbs hidden between pieces of adults who had probably tried to protect their children and failed.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The wind moved through the border road, carrying the heavy smell of blood and death around everyone, but no one stepped closer, and no one dared disturb him.

Then Razeal slowly shook his head. It was a small movement, tired and almost empty, as if something inside him had reached an answer he did not want to accept.

”There is no law and order in this world,” he suddenly spoke, his voice low and flat, but every person close enough heard it clearly. He did not sound angry yet. He sounded like he was looking at something broken beyond simple repair. His fingers curled slightly at his sides as his gaze moved across the packed flesh inside the wagon.

”No one should ever have the courage to even think of something like this,” he continued softly,”Not to say actually do it.” His jaw tightened, and for the first time, his voice shook so faintly that Sofia almost wondered if she had imagined it.

”It is not humane.” The words left him like they were cutting his throat from inside. The people behind him remained still. Viper lowered his eyes slightly. Lady Veyra pressed her lips together. Sofia watched the side of Razeal’s face, but his hair hid too much of it.

”The world is wrong,” Razeal whispered after a few seconds, his voice almost disappearing into the wind. Then he went silent again, staring into the wagon as if the bodies themselves were proving his words. He slowly lifted his head and looked up toward the sky, toward that wide empty blue space under which such things were allowed to happen.

”It needs to be fixed,” he said. There was no shout in those words, no declaration like before, no thunder, no pride. It sounded like a promise or understanding being born somewhere deep and cold inside his chest which wasn’t there before.

He remained like that for several seconds, looking upward while everyone behind him could only stare at his back.

None of them knew what to say. Viper, Shade, Zero, and Blitz stood silently like shadows, yet even their stillness now carried a different feeling. Lady Veyra’s eyes lowered toward the ground, her expression heavy with thoughts she could not voice. Sofia’s face was full of worry, but she also did not move.

Then Razeal slowly lowered his head again and looked at the wagon one last time. His gaze stayed there, unblinking, as though he was carving the sight into his own memory and punishing himself with it.

”Give every single one of them a proper burial,” he said suddenly. His voice remained low. ”Find whatever family members or close relatives they still have. If they can attend, let them attend.” He paused, his eyes still on the bodies.

”Do not leave any of them nameless if it can be helped.” After saying that, he turned around. He did not look at Sofia. He did not look at Viper. He did not look at Lady Veyra, the guards, the knight, or the soldiers watching him with mixed grief and anger.

He simply began walking back toward the gates with his head slightly lowered, his steps calm but strangely lifeless. No one blocked him. No one spoke. The guards standing nearby clenched their fists as he passed. Some of them wanted to curse him. Some wanted to scream that those people were dead because of him. They could see he was hit, they could see the weight had reached him, they could see regret hanging around his lowered shoulders, but grief did not always become mercy in the hearts of those who had just seen wagons full of corpses.

To them, he was still the beginning of the road those people had walked. He was the king who had told them to leave. Their anger trembled inside their closed mouths, but fear and discipline kept them silent.

”Should I begin the investigation?” Viper asked from behind him, still standing where he was. His voice was low, and he did not even turn his body fully, only his eyes moved toward Razeal’s back. Razeal did not stop. He gave no answer. He did not nod, did not wave, did not speak.

He just kept walking as though he had not heard the question at all, or as though answering it required a part of him that had gone numb.

Sofia saw it. She saw the way his steps moved forward but his mind seemed somewhere else. She understood then that this had struck him harder than anything she had seen before.

Razeal was not simply sad. He was becoming unstable beneath the surface, folding the blame into himself with every silent step. Anyone would. Even if Osicade had butchered them, even if the killers were the true monsters, Razeal would still see the road starting from his own command. Sofia took a step after him, then another, wanting to catch up, wanting to say something even if she did not know what.

But before she could get close, Razeal’s voice came softly without him turning back.

”Sofia, I need some time alone.” His words were quiet and tired.

”Let me be.” The shadow beneath his feet suddenly darkened, spreading upward like black water. It swallowed his legs, his body, his silver hair, and in the next moment, he vanished from before her eyes.

Sofia stopped where she was, left standing alone near the blood-stained road. Concern deepened in her eyes. She had never seen Razeal like this.

It was as if he was trying to hide even from himself. After a short moment, her lips tightened, and she suddenly bent her knees before jumping into the air, flying toward a certain direction with a guess in her heart about where he might have gone.

****

In the throne room

A shadow suddenly opened in the middle of the hall, and Razeal stepped out of it like something dragged from darkness rather than arriving through it.

”Get out,” he said at once. His voice was not loud, but it was so dark and heavy that every guard inside the hall stiffened before they even fully understood what had happened.

”All of you.” No one asked anything. The soldiers stationed inside the throne room felt the coldness inside that order and ran out without a single word, their boots striking the marble floor in hurried echoes as they left through the great doors. The moment the last of them disappeared, the hall became empty.

Razeal walked slowly toward the raised steps where the golden throne stood. His steps were low but heavy, each one sounding too clear in the large empty room. His head remained lowered. His hands hung by his sides, but his fingers were clenched so hard that his knuckles turned pale. He reached the first step, then the second, and as he climbed, tears suddenly slipped from his crimson eyes.

They fell silently down his face, one after another, without sobs, without sound, almost as if his body itself had betrayed him before he could stop it. Razeal did not cry. He did not cry during pain. He did not cry when insulted, beaten, hated, tortured, betrayed, or even in when feels like it.

He had promised himself to not to cry.

He had survived things that would break others and kept his face cold through them all. But today, something inside him was too heavy. Children died because of me. The thought moved through him again and again, each time sharper than before. I killed them. Even if my hands did not do it. Even if I did not intend it. They walked out because of me. They died because of me.

He reached the top of the platform and stood before the golden throne.

For a moment, he only stared at it. That throne, raised above everyone, shining with old power and royal pride, suddenly looked disgusting to him.

A chair for rulers? A place for commands. A place where men decided the direction of lives they would never personally carry. His breath shook once. Then his face twisted.

”Fuck.” The word came out low, broken, and full of rage. In the next instant, he kicked the throne with all the strength in his body. Boom. The sound exploded through the hall as the massive golden throne tore from its place and shot sideways like a thrown boulder.

It crashed into the right wall with terrifying force, embedding itself deep into the stone. The entire throne room trembled. Cracks spread outward from the impact like black lightning across the wall, and pieces of stone slowly broke loose, falling to the marble floor one after another with sharp echoes.

Razeal stood where the throne had been, his chest rising and falling, his crimson eyes wet, his face no longer empty. Fury, grief, disgust, guilt, and frustration all moved across him at once, uncontrolled and raw. His usual expressionless mask was gone.

For the first time, there was no cold king standing there. There was only a man who had seen the bodies of dead people and found his own name written across the road that led them to death.

His vampire nature seemed to make every emotion worse. The grief did not sit quietly inside him. It burned. It clawed. It magnified every image until he could see the little girl’s eyes even with his own eyes open.

Razeal suddenly brought his foot down hard upon the platform where the throne had stood. The reinforced stone cracked beneath the stomp. He did it again. And again. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each strike shattered more of the raised base, sending cracks racing across the surface.

”I fucked up,” he muttered, then louder, ”I fucked up.” His foot came down again, breaking a whole piece of the platform inward.

”Fuck Fuckkkk Fuckkkkk fuckkkkk!” The words tore out of him while he kept stomping, each impact shaking the hall. Dust fell from the ceiling.

The marble around the throne platform split beneath raw physical strength alone. He was not thinking anymore. He was not planning. He was not calculating consequences, enemies, fate or war or even anything . He was only trying to force the pain somewhere outside of himself, into stone, into gold, into the floor, into anything that could break instead of the thing breaking inside his chest.

”I told them to leave,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice cracking under anger. ”I told them to leave.” Another stomp. More stone burst apart. ”And they died.” He struck the platform again.

”Fuckingg Kids died.” His fists clenched tighter.

”Because of me.” The last words came out almost like a growl, but there was wetness in his voice now, pain trying to hide inside rage and failing.

[Calm down, host.]

Villey’s calm voice suddenly sounded inside his head, clear and steady, cutting through the madness around him. But Razeal did not stop. He brought his foot down again, harder than before, crushing the already broken stone further as if system’s voice meant nothing in that moment. Logic meant nothing. Comfort meant nothing. He could still see the blood drop sliding down the girl’s forehead after his revival failed.

He could still hear himself whispering, I cannot revive them. He could still feel Sofia standing beside him with no words left. He could still feel the knight’s anger, the soldiers’ silent curses, the truth under every look. He kept going, ignoring the voice inside his head, ignoring the shaking hall, ignoring the ruined throne buried in the wall, because stopping meant standing still with the weight of it all pressing fully against him again. And right now, Razeal could not bear that weight in silence.

——