I Am The Game's Villain - Chapter 394 Samael [1]

394  Samael [1]

Ruglis was a rare success story among the countless failures of the Iris Project.

The Iris project had seen thousands of subjects fall short—whether their bodies were too frail, their minds too fragile, or both. Only those with extraordinary resilience had any hope of surviving, let alone succeeding. Ruglis was one of the few.

His success rate stood at 41%.

It was a remarkable achievement, one he took immense pride in.

Because of this, he was entrusted with increasingly difficult tasks.

He had accomplished each one with unwavering success.

But a few days ago, he received an assignment of unprecedented magnitude.

Kidnapping Randor Ironbeard.

Ruglis was well aware of who his target was, and he felt honored that his superiors had chosen him for such a critical mission.

It was as if all his previous accomplishments had finally been recognized, and now, he had the opportunity to prove his worth once and for all.

The most challenging part of the mission was infiltrating Sancta Vedelia.

It took him an entire week, with his men at his side, but he managed to succeed.

Now, he only needed to extract his target.

He thought it would be straightforward.

But now, standing there, he regretted those thoughts instantly.

He regretted accepting the task altogether.

He was paralyzed, unable to move, as he stared at the scene before him.

Edward Falkrona stood there.

His entire being was enveloped in a dark aura, with an ominous substance swirling around him.

It was clearly not mana, but something far more sinister.

Ruglis had never felt such terror in his life.

It was as if the very essence of fear was clawing at his soul.

The sky above them had darkened, and the ground seemed to mirror its gloom.

The air grew heavy, thick with the stench of death.

“You have sinned.”

“…!”

It sounded like a man’s voice, but there was something profoundly inhuman about it.

Every instinct in Ruglis screamed at him to flee, but he found himself unable to move.

His breath came in ragged gasps, utterly shattered.

“Why did you sin?”

The dark figure took a step forward, revealing Edward.

His appearance was nearly the same as always, but now he was clad in an eerie, black cloak-like armor that seemed to meld with his body. His eyes were completely obscured by a writhing, black substance that gave off an unsettling, pulsating glow. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

His head hung low, his shoulders slumped, as he moved with a slow, deliberate gait.

“You have sinned. You must be judged.”

“He must be~”

A second voice, this one distinctly feminine, echoed in agreement, sending another wave of icy dread through Ruglis. Yet, he couldn’t see anyone else.

“Kill the sinner, Samael.”

With an almost mechanical motion, Edward extended his hand, and the dark substance emanated from his palm, coalescing into the shape of a scythe.

“Kiiii!!” Ruglis let out a blood-curdling scream of pure terror at the sight of the weapon, biting down on his tongue until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

In a frantic panic, he spun around and bolted.

“J–Join me immediately!!!!” He screamed to his men, desperation lacing every word.

Edward raised his left arm, and the darkness morphed into the shape of an ominous black book, hovering in the air. The book opened on its own, its pages flipping rapidly as if searching for something.

Ruglis didn’t dare look back.

His fear had morphed into sheer, primal terror, his mind unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding behind him. He was terrified—truly, viscerally scared of dying.

If he had to die, he prayed it would be at the hands of anyone but Edward.

As he ran, his thoughts turned to a single, desperate plea: let someone else kill me, anyone but him.

The pages of the book finally stopped on a specific one, and an eerie silence fell over the scene.

Edward’s lips slowly twisted into an inhuman grin, stretching from ear to ear, a grotesque smile filled with pure malevolence—a deep-seated desire to inflict pain and revel in it.

“Hiii!!” Ruglis tripped and fell to the ground, paralyzed by fear. He gasped for breath, his body frozen in place.

From the open page of the book, several things fell to the ground, pooling into a dark, viscous puddle.

From the puddle, tiny creatures began to take form.

Griiiaa!

They emitted hideous, guttural sounds.

They resembled snakes, but it was clear they were far from ordinary. Their bodies were covered in countless tiny black eyes, and their round, gaping mouths were lined with sharp, jagged teeth.

The mass of leeches writhed and twisted, their slimy bodies squirming as they spread across the ground in a nightmarish tide. Within moments, hundreds of them covered the earth, their wriggling forms creating a grotesque, pulsating carpet. Suddenly, as if drawn by an unseen force, every single one of them stopped, their tiny, beady eyes locking onto Ruglis in unison.

Ruglis’ face drained of all color, his skin turning a ghastly shade of white as fear gripped his heart. His body went limp, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious before he even hit it.

But his respite was brief. Barely a minute had passed before his eyes snapped open, forced awake by a surge of agony.

“GYAAAAAA!!!!!”

His scream pierced the night, echoing through the city and sending waves of terror rippling through anyone who heard it. The sound was inhuman, filled with such pain and horror that it chilled the blood of all who listened.

The leeches had latched onto his body, their slimy forms clinging to his skin like living parasites. One by one, they began to burrow into his flesh, their ravenous mouths tearing at his skin, devouring it piece by piece. Some slithered into his eyes, others wriggled into his ears, his mouth, his nose—every orifice became a gateway for their invasion. The eyes that dotted their grotesque bodies rolled wildly, searching for more of him to consume, leaving nothing untouched.

Throughout this grisly spectacle, Edward stood motionless, a macabre figure holding a book in one hand and a scythe in the other. His smile was a twisted, deranged thing, frozen on his face like a mask of insanity.

“What?!”

“Lord Ruglis!!”

“Haaa!!!”

The cries of Ruglis’ men rang out as they arrived just in time to witness the horrifying scene. They turned their eyes to Edward, and the blood in their veins turned to ice. The terror that gripped them was paralyzing. The man at the front of the group, his face twisted in fear, tried to speak, “Ru–”

Before he could finish his sentence, his body split cleanly in two, the cut so perfect it seemed impossible. Edward stood in the same spot, his head lowered, the blade of his scythe gleaming with fresh blood.

As he lifted his gaze, the remaining men were overcome with panic. They turned to flee, but it was too late.

The slaughter began.