A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In an instant, gunfire shattered the tranquility of the night, cutting through the moonlight as a hail of bullets—more than a dozen in quick succession—erupted from the weapon, hurtling toward the shadowy outline obscured by dark clouds.

Clank! Clank!

Suddenly, the sharp sound of metal clashing followed closely behind the gunfire. The minuscule time gap between the two noises proved that the bullets, traveling faster than the sound of their own discharge, had already struck something before the sound could reach the guards' ears.

"Wh-who?" One of the guards stammered, quickly taking his position and aiming his gun into the darkness. A wave of goosebumps washed over him, a visceral reaction to an unmistakable sense of murderous intent aimed squarely at him.

"Open the door before you both die," a cold yet ethereal voice sliced through the night, rich with a sinister melody that seemed to resonate within their very minds, drawing beads of sweat to their foreheads.

As the moonlight gradually illuminated the scene, both guards turned their gaze toward the figure of a woman steadily emerging from the shadows. Her hair danced in the wind, shining with a deep amethyst hue, while her eyes glimmered with an intensity reminiscent of a predator surveying its prey.

"Damn it!—Bang! Bang!" The earlier guard felt his heartbeat stop in the face of an indescribable fear as he realized he stood before a woman wielding a sheathed sword. Dressed in a white, short-sleeved shirt and black pants, she was undeniably beautiful, yet there was an unmistakable deadly aura about her.

Zwooooo

'!??!'

The guards' eyes widened in disbelief as they watched the bullets they had fired come to a halt mid-air. More accurately, they seemed to shrink slowly, dissolving into a fine dust as the metal disintegrated completely, leaving only a shockwave of kinetic energy that brushed against the woman's form.

With the bullets evaporating, her flawless, milky skin was momentarily revealed as her clothing fluttered lightly in the aftermath.

"Kneel," Rivia commanded, her tone firm and imbued with lethal authority, as she looked down upon the guards. A flicker of something predatory danced in her eyes, and an aura of threatening intensity enveloped her, creating a haze that shimmered around her body. In an instant, the entire night felt as though it had been bathed in the warmth of day.

She exuded an undeniable energy, making it abundantly clear to the guards that they stood in the presence of death itself.

"N-no—"

"Please, Miss Rivia! My wife works at the palace!" the other guard pleaded, bowing low as panic seized him. He suddenly recalled his wife's descriptions of the Lord's bodyguard—a figure she had likened to an amethyst demon. A chill ran through him as he realized he was now face-to-face with that very catastrophe.

"You are late, but fortunate." Rivia's voice was sharp and monotone as she glided past the carriage, covering ten meters in an instant. It was as if she had blurred through space. As she brushed by him, he remained kneeling, trembling in fear, feeling his entire reality constrict around him.

His eyes quivered, wide with dread, as he listened to her footsteps echo away, soon fading as Rivia entered the mansion.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Haah, haah, I—I'm alive," the guard whispered to himself, slowly attempting to rise. He turned toward his comrade, who was still standing, and asked, "Hey, are you alright?"

"Y-yes—Thud, thud." As the standing guard shifted his gaze towards his kneeling companion and nodded in response, he suddenly felt as though his vision was tilting. Confusion gripped his mind as a numbing sensation washed over him—an electric pulse racing down his spine.

But just as abruptly, the sensation vanished, leaving him in a thick fog of darkness as his body seemed to disassemble into numerous small fragments, tumbling to the ground.

"Arghhh! N-no!" The guard who remained kneeling watched in horror as crimson lines etched themselves across his comrade's body. It fell to pieces, as though it had not even comprehended its own destruction until the final moment of movement, splintering into oblivion. Explore more adventures at m,v l'e-m|p y r

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Zzz-zz-z

A man lay naked on the bed, deep in sleep, his bulky body sprawled out.

"Kyaaa!?"

"H-help!?"

'!?!'

"Yawn, what just happened—ba—Kughh!?" Berlyn, still sprawled on the bed, gradually opened his eyes. Due to his weight and notably lethargic disposition, he hadn't bothered to lift his limbs to rub the slumber from his eyes. Instead, he felt a dampness surrounding him.

When he finally focused, he expected to see the ceiling above him, but instead, he was met with the vastness of an open sky, a sensation of chill contrasting sharply with the warmth he had felt only moments earlier.

"Hmm?" With a sense of reluctance, he turned his head to the side while remaining on his back. His gaze fell upon his companions, who had been catering to his whims just moments ago—now lying lifeless on the ground, their heads grotesquely absent.

"Hmph, just a nightmare?" After casting his eyes forward again, he couldn't shake the feeling that this particular nightmare was strikingly vivid, far too real compared to the usual specters of his past wrongdoings. Yet, after the countless crimes he had committed, it was hardly surprising for him to be haunted by visions of those he had tormented.

"N-no, S-sir Berlyn!?" A woman's voice suddenly pierced the silence, forcing Berlyn to turn his head in the opposite direction. There, he spotted an elderly woman kneeling on the ground, her face twisted in shock. Her hands were clasped together, and she looked at him with trembling eyes, as if she were witnessing something unfathomably horrifying.

"Sigh, I know you—Ugh, is it starting to hurt now? What a nightmare," he murmured. At that moment, he began to feel pain spreading throughout his body, slightly more intense than he had anticipated for a dream. Despite the discomfort, he continued to gaze at the woman and added, "You see, these little things were just helping me; otherwise, in truth, I only have love for you—Arghh!?"

"Haah... Haah... Wh-what is happening?" Suddenly, the mayor was overwhelmed by a surge of pain from all directions, each nerve in his body screaming as he struggled to grasp reality. It felt as if every nerve was ablaze with an incomprehensible agony, forcing him to grit his teeth. Moments later, he was assaulted by a metallic stench.

"I've heard that fat kills the pain, but seeing it firsthand..." A chilling voice echoed around him, piercing through the haze of his suffering. It was the voice of that amethyst demon.

"Aaarrghhh, n-no! Wh-what is—?!!!" As the pain escalated, he attempted to move his head, his eyes falling to the ground where he spotted a very fat, thick hand lying severed nearby. His expression twisted in horror as he recognized the familiar watch and gold ring adorning it.

It was his own hand.

"Kugh! Arghh! Khwack!" With clarity slipping from his mind, waves of pain surged through his body, starting in his arms and then working their way down to his legs. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, his eyes turning red as blood streamed from his nose. The pain escalated rapidly, crossing an unbearable threshold within moments, akin to being submerged in molten lava.

"Sir Berlyn!" the woman cried out, her eyes fixated on a morbid sight—a fat body, devoid of limbs, with only a stomach and a head barely visible through the layers of fat, lying lifeless on the ground. Suddenly, her vision blurred, the world around her turning upside down as her eyelids grew heavy. With a final thud, her head rolled away, coming to a stop at a distance, her eyes losing all color.

Instant death.

"...I never expected this many spies to be here," Rivia remarked, glancing at the fallen woman's body, whose severed head lay some distance away while the lower body remained seated, blood gushing from the exposed flesh, revealing the severed spinal cord and nerves.

Upon entering the mansion with the intention of killing Mayor Berlyn—chosen as her fated target—Rivia's heightened senses picked up a distant sound.

It was a woman relaying information about how she had manipulated the fat man into submission, sending him to sleep while other spy maids aided in the process.

They had provided him with everything he desired—sex, alcohol, love—gradually bending him to their will.

It wasn't difficult for Rivia to deduce that the North-East's seventh mayor had fallen for a woman from a rival noble family, clearly intent on using him against the Croceaus family in the future.

So instead of meticulously identifying the spies or simply killing that woman, she made a ruthless decision to kill everyone present.

After all, wouldn't it be much easier to eliminate them than to search for hidden enemies?

"Now, what about you?" Rivia asked as she approached Berlyn's lifeless form, which lay there like a doll with missing limbs. His lower body was crushed, but thanks to Synergy's residual effects, blood flow had stopped, preventing an immediate death.

"Aarghh.... It hurts! Kughh?!" Berlyn felt his life slipping through his fingers. It was as if he were lying there, resigned to the fact that death could come at any moment. Everything seemed to freeze in that instant; each breath became increasingly labored, his mind beginning to numb.

He gazed up at the vast sky, dotted with stars, which soon became overshadowed by the silhouette of a figure looming over him with an icy expression.

"P-please, I—I didn't know she was a spy!" Berlyn pleaded, his desperation rising. In that moment, he prioritized his own survival over defending the woman he loved. He was acutely aware that if he somehow lived, he would need to speak to the Marquess about his rogue bodyguard who had gone mad and tried to kill him.

"Fine, I will heal you." Rivia's face betrayed no emotion, though it was filled with an intense, unyielding fury as she reached for her phone. She activated the camera, recording their exchange. "Now, tell me, how much money can you offer me to save your life?"