Read VILLAINOUS SYSTEM: I am fated to be a villain in fantasy novel.

On a throne of ash, he sat alone.

Above him, the heavens wept. Beneath, the earth trembled.

Before him, elves, dwarves, and every creature born of magic or steel stood united.

Their eyes burned with fear and rage. Blades raised, spells crackling, they marched to end him.

One voice rose from the chaos:

"Why do you defy fate, William?"

He smiled, hollow thing.

" Because I can ."

Then came war—a clash that shook realms and shattered the sky.

In its heart stood a boy who once sought peace, now crowned in ruin.

As the storm swallowed the world, he whispered to himself,

"When did it all begin?"

Not in this world. Not in this body.

Long before the throne of ash. Long before war and immortality.

It began... in a place of cold steel and endless stars.

His mind drifted…

to a distant memory—

the first step on the road that led to this end.

In a planet named earth 105, a man dressed in a black coat and pants sat in a chair next to a table. He was in a magnificent room. The room was simple, yet magnificent and elegant, with a chandelier hanging above him. The man closed a book and placed it on the table, then looked toward the ceiling. Perhaps he had been reading a novel.

"This story was sort of cliché. I don't know, maybe people love stories like this. I would have loved it too, if I had an ounce of humanity left," the man said. The story of a hero defeating the demon king and uniting the continents—what a happy ending. But was it all worth it? Did the hero want it to end like this? Did he really want to fight to save the world and sacrifice everyone close to him? If not, maybe he could have lived a happy life in a small village with the people he loved. But he fought. No, he was forced to fight. He fought for the destiny that others had imposed upon him.

In the end, he killed the demon villain and united the continents, but he was not happy. He wasn't smiling. He was crying for the people he lost on the journey. So, was it all worth it? If you ask me, no, it was not.

Who am I to talk about it?" the man said with a smirk.

"I, who slaughtered more than half the population of this planet to reach this point, to conquer everything."

"I lost them too," he whispered.

Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. And that made it worse.

Soon, a knock was heard at the door.

"Come in," the man said.

A servant entered the room.

"Master, the Margrit family wants to meet you," the servant said.

Send them away," the man said tiredly, rubbing his temples.

Carl hesitated. "But master, they've come for the third time in a row."

The man slowly raised his head, eyes gleaming. "Did you not hear what I said, Carl?" He smiled, but it wasn't warm—it was the kind of smile that made servants run.

He leaned back, shadows dancing across his face.

"I spared him," he murmured. "Twice."

His laugh was low—like gravel and regret.

"The old me would've carved his heart out just for interrupting my thoughts."

He looked at his own hands like they belonged to a stranger.

"What the hell is happening to me?"

"Maybe I'm just tired," he murmured to the empty room. "Maybe."

"I think I need to sleep for a while, but I have to meet my heirs. It's fine. This will help them be more patient."

He slept in the dim light of the chandelier.

When he woke up, he found himself lying on a bed instead of the chair. There was no chandelier above him, and the ceiling was glowing brightly.

"How am I lying on a bed instead of the chair?" he thought to himself.

Then he fell back asleep, saying, "I'm too tired to think about it."

After some time, he woke up to some noise. He saw two people standing next to him—one was a man, and the other was a woman. They were talking to him very affectionately.

His mind surged with fury, the old instincts roaring awake.

"How dare they..."

But his voice—

Was a gurgling cry.

His limbs flailed, weak and small.

Powerless. Infantile.

Trapped.

And the woman smiled, holding him close as if he hadn't just imagined ordering an execution.

When he looked at his body, which was now as small as a baby, he screamed as loudly as he could.

When he screamed, the baby began to cry. "Why are you crying, William?" The woman's voice was soft, almost a whisper, filled with warmth and affection. To soothe him, she began to sing a lullaby, her voice gentle and tender. To her surprise, the baby quieted, his tiny eyelids fluttering shut as he fell asleep. Carefully, she placed him in the cradle, as if the world might shatter if she were too rough.

"Don't worry too much, he will be alright" the man next to her said to comfort her.

I know but he suddenly became extremely sick, the women expressed her concerns while her gaze fixed on the baby with such overwhelming love that it made the man's heart ache. Without another word, they quietly left the room, as though not wishing to disturb the fragile peace around the child.

The boy was asleep.

His mind drifted, slipping into the past like a tide pulling him under.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A boy stood in a field , his small hand wrapped around a girl's delicate fingers.

"I want to create a world where we can both live happily, forever, without suffering, without pain. A life full of joy, without fear," a boy said, his voice trembling with emotion as he held the girl's hand. Her eyes were hidden by her bangs, but there was no doubt—she was as beautiful as a lily in full bloom. She didn't speak, but the smile on her face was all the answer he needed. It was enough.

And then, in the blink of an eye, time twisted. The boy grew up in an instant, the world around him fading away. The scene shifted, replaced by the sharp sounds of voices calling out to him.

"Brother, why are you standing here all alone?" a group of four boys asked, their voices filled with concern.

"Are you thinking about your family?" The first boy, who looked older than his years, asked, his tone serious yet compassionate.

"Shut up," another boy interrupted, playfully pinching him.

"Ouch!" The boy yelped, rubbing the spot where he'd been pinched.

"Don't be sad, brother," said the third boy, his voice soft but firm. "We've all lost someone close to us. But we'll never leave you. We'll stand by you, even if we have to face hell itself."

The boy smiled, though the sadness in his eyes never faded. "Do you want me to go to hell?" he teased, but it wasn't really funny. And for a moment, the group was quiet, then all of them laughed—a bittersweet sound that seemed to carry their shared sorrow.

They laughed together, the kind of laugh that only the broken can share.

He looked at them—his brothers, his last light.

And for a moment, just one, the world felt right.

Until it wasn't

Blink-

Suddenly, the laughter vanished. The air grew thick with the stench of blood, and the world around them turned dark, oppressive. The boy—now a man, tall and strong—looked down in shock. His heart stopped when he saw the bodies of the boys and the girl, their lifeless forms lying in a pool of blood. He looked down at himself, his clothes soaked in crimson. He could feel it, the weight of their blood staining his very soul. A cold, eerie chill gripped his heart as he saw the pistol clutched in his left hand.

Then a knock, sharp and insistent—thuck, thuck—ripped him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he answered, his voice a mere rasp, as though the weight of everything was too much for him to bear.

The door opened, and a man entered—Carl, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit. "Master," Carl said, his voice steady but his eyes flickering nervously, "all the traitors... they've been executed." His words hung in the air, heavy with a fear he couldn't hide. "Is... is that all, sir?"

The man's gaze drifted to the ceiling, his bangs shadowing his eyes, hiding the raw pain behind them.

"Traitors, huh… yes, traitors," he whispered, his voice breaking with the grief he could no longer contain.His chest tightened, breath hitching as something inside him cracked. A single tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, and another, until the flood came."

** ** ********************************************************************

The baby suddenly stirred, waking with a start. His heart pounded, the strange sense of dread suffocating him. Why am I dreaming about that… after all this time? The thought hit him like a blow. It feels like a curse. A memory that refuses to fade.

"Why am I still in this baby's body ?" His mind was spinning in confusion. "Was it not just a dream?" His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the world around him.

Is this a lucid dream? he wondered. I think I'm dreaming… but I can't control it, not like I should in a lucid dream. So then… what is this? The confusion gnawed at him, unrelenting.

The faces of the figures from before flashed in his mind. "A face as clear as crystal, pale as snow, with hair like golden morning rays and eyes as deep and blue as the ocean," he whispered, the description coming to him with a sense of inevitability. Her features matched the male lead's mother, exactly as described in the novel

"And hair like silver, eyes as green as jade, with skin so pale—like a porcelain doll. The mark of the Marquis Medici's family," he added, his voice trembling. The man next to her was same as the father of the male lead, which was described in the novel.

It can't be a coincidence. His mind screamed. I'm in a novel… but how? And if I'm in a baby's body, where did I go? What happened to my world?

He could feel his thoughts spiraling. Did our bodies swap? Am I in William's body? What about him? Is he in mine? The questions piled on top of each other, crushing him under their weight.

He looked down at the tiny hands of the baby and asked himself: Why am I here? Why was I summoned?

His heart beat faster, as if trying to escape from the cage of confusion and fear. Do I have to follow William's destiny? Is fate really this cruel? Will I suffer again, just so it can watch me writhe in agony?

He screamed—not with his voice, but in his soul—Why must I suffer?

Why must I be a puppet for a fate I didn't choose?

And then, like a whisper from the past, the voice of the girl echoed in his mind: "Live for yourself."

It was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Live for myself, he thought, feeling the warmth of that resolve settle deep in his bones. "I will return to my world, no matter what. Even if I have to destroy this world, or this entire universe… I WILL RETURN TO MY WORLD." His voice was steady now, unwavering, though the fire of his determination burned in every syllable.

"I will not be a pawn in this game of destiny. I will break free, even if I have to destroy fate itself."

"I promised someone… I promised I would live for myself." The words were simple, but they held the weight of everything. The promise he had made to himself, to the person who had believed in him.

DING!.

A cold chime echoed in his ears

He was thinking what is this noise . He was still trying to find out the source of this noise .When he heard another noise. And saw something in front of him.

[DING!]

} THE CONDITIONS HAVE BEEN MET.

THE VARIABLE HAS BEGUN QUESTIONING THE EXISTENCE OF FATE ."

THE ACTION WE TAKE DOES IT REALLY NEED TO BE TAKEN

} THE VARIABLE IS AWARDED FOR HIS ACHIEVEMENT. PRIZE IS!

HEROIC SYSTEM !

> YOU WILL BE REMEMBERD AS A HERO.

> YOU WILL SAVE THE WORLD FROM DESTRUCTION

> YOU WILL HAVE EVERYONE'S LOVE AND RESPECT

> YOU WILL KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN THE FUTURE

> VARIABLE WILL HAVE HIGH COMPREHENSION FOR SKILLS

> THE VARIABLE WILL NOT DIE.