A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

Suddenly, the heavy atmosphere was shattered by a jarring sound—an intrusion that sliced through the silence emanating from the mobile device, mingling with the soft murmurs of breath and the ominous trickle of blood.

Rivia, still seated upon her grim pedestal, rose slowly, an intense aura of killing intent saturating the air around her. It radiated from her body like a sharpened sword, unleashing waves of lethal energy.

With a glint in her eyes, she fixed her gaze upon Alfred, her expression impassive yet resolute. "The ones named first will receive swift deaths. It is your decision to determine the order."

"Hm." Alfred responded, his voice hoarse and devoid of emotion, though the palpable killing intent and his cold stare spoke volumes.

He cast a glance at the phone screen and swiftly processed the thousands of names displayed before him, categorizing them in mere seconds.

He understood that those most trusted would be met with a slow death, while those he had little interaction with would be granted a swift exit—an order designed to make betrayal all the more gruesome.

With a final sweep of his gaze, he settled on the first name. "How about we split them based on who Miss Rivia can handle alone?"

"...All of you, eliminate those whose names Alfred provides, without question," she commanded, addressing the special forces trained by Rivia to protect the Croceaus territory.

Several cloaked figures in black knelt before her, their faces barely visible beneath their hoods, with the lower halves concealed by masks.

Each held a katana, the emblem of the Croceaus family—a round golden insignia adorned with a red thread on either side—hanging at their waist.

Their silent nods conveyed a chilling loyalty, an unwavering readiness for the gruesome tasks that lay ahead.

The royal family had always maintained strict control over the noble families, forbidding them from raising their own armies.

However, the Croceus family found a way around these laws by establishing a cadre of guards to protect their territory from assassins infiltrating their lands.

Underneath the veneer of royal authority lay the unspoken truth: while no other noble family dared to intrude upon their neighbors' territories, the Croceus family orchestrated a cunning ruse.

They staged a series of fake assassinations targeting prominent figures within their land, successfully convincing the royal family that they were being threatened by rival noble families.

This charade secured them permission to form a specialized protective unit, limited to just fifty individuals.

Though it might seem inconsequential to seek formal approval for their guard, the reality was far more serious.

The royal family possessed immense power, demonstrated throughout history by their swift and ruthless responses to noble families attempting to assemble secret armies.

The urgency of the situation was palpable: in just two days, the Croceus lineage would face its end.

The specialized unit they trained, however, spiraled into madness, turning on their own before ultimately taking their lives.

This was the narrative spun to other noble families—a neatly wrapped explanation accompanied by fabricated evidence.

Yet, deep down, everyone understood the true nature of the royal family; they could obliterate any noble lineage at will.

"As you command!" came the synchronized response of the group gathered in the dim, eerie hall, filled with an overwhelming metallic scent, a reminder of the dead bodies strewn across the floor beneath Rivia.

She approached Alfred with a determined stride, her voice steady as she asked, "Who is my target?" Indifferent to the lives of those on the list and dismissive of the collective plans proposed by others, Rivia simply wanted to know the name of the individual she had to confront.

Her frustration simmered beneath the surface as she recognized Alfred's refusal to allow her to personally handle the situation in her preferred manner.

Aware of the time constraint imposed by her Master and the slim opportunity for redemption presented by this Being, she chose to adhere to Alfred's directives.

Despite the insignificance of the change, she could sense that her energy core had experienced a slight expansion.

For someone like her, who possessed a robust energy core that had reached saturation several years ago, this minor indication of growth was significant.

It was the first time in a long while that she felt her potential was no longer stagnant, even if the improvement was barely perceptible.

"Seventh Mayor of the Northeast Province," Alfred announced in a nonchalant tone as he moved toward the kneeling man.

As his feet approached, Rivia's form seemed to vanish, her speed so swift that it was imperceptible to the human eye.

Only that morning, Rivia had struggled to maintain her balance due to injuries to her body and ankles.

However, after consuming the healing potions permitted by his Master—one of only two available throughout the entire Croceaus territory bestowed upon them by the Emperor—she had miraculously regained her peak physical condition.

Alfred couldn't help but notice that one of the precious healing potions had been used, which felt like a significant waste given their immense value to the family.

In situations where his Master or the heads of the family might require urgent assistance, those potions were crucial.

However, as a mere butler, he was bound to follow his Master's orders and allowed Rivia to take the potion, understanding the importance of her recovery despite the potential consequences.

"Everyone, divide into eight teams of five members each and send your representative to the front," Alfred commanded. The forty men moved as one, forming groups with a composed demeanor, quickly organizing themselves into teams within a matter of minutes.

Having been well-trained in strategic formations by Alfred, the individuals did not form teams based on friendship.

Instead, they assessed each other's weaknesses and strengths, a vital choice considering none of them were Empyreals, Evolvers, or possessed any awakened abilities—they were, after all, just normal humans.

Armed primarily with swords rather than firearms, they stood ready as Alfred surveyed his charges. "How many charged stones do you all possess?" he inquired, looking at the gathering.

His question addressed a significant topic, one that held the secrets and support of the Croceaus family's special forces.

"Head butler, we each possess six stones," stated one of the individuals as eight representatives stepped forward, each representing their respective groups, all consisting of five members.

One of the leaders spoke, and the others nodded in agreement, revealing that each individual held six charged stones.

"That makes a total of 240 charged stones. You are permitted to keep one additional stone," Alfred announced, lifting the restriction on the number of charged stones these individuals could hold from six to seven. Continue the saga on m-v-l-e-mpyr

The representatives exchanged glances, and after a moment of silent communication, they nodded in understanding.

"Go and retrieve the charged stones; we shall convene at the main gate of the palace," commanded one of the representative leaders.

The directive prompted four members from each team to quickly nod in acknowledgment before sprinting toward the door, eager to gather the extra stones.

"Head butler, could you please provide us with the names?" inquired the other leaders among the eight, who had moved closer, anticipation evident in their expressions.

Alfred nodded in response, observing the unwavering determination etched across the faces of all eight representatives.

This mission, issued by the master of the Croceaus family, was a rare opportunity for the special forces, often deprived of assignments from the higher-ups.

For these skilled individuals, it was a significant chance to demonstrate their capabilities and prove their worth.