Villain's Odyssey: Enslaving heroines, Conquering Villainesses Chapter 8: The Sadist

"This is getting exhausting... even for ." Her voice was tired—more irritated than angry. "Tell what I want to know, and I promise, I’ll kill you in the next instant."

I didn’t lift my head. Didn’t even twitch. Just kept staring at the floor, eyes hollow.

Silence.

How long had it been? Ten days? More? I’d lost count. I couldn’t speak anymore. She hadn’t even noticed. One of her toxins—one of the many—must’ve burned through my windpipe.

Heh.

"Silent again?" she asked. "Oh, I see. You think just because you’ve adapted to this level of pain... this is all there is?"

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

She wore that ridiculous black witch’s hat, with two strands of pink hair framing her face—bangs that would’ve made her look almost angelic if not for the madness in her eyes. If I’d t her under different circumstances, I might’ve thought she was beautiful.

But not anymore. Not after what she’d done.

She sighed, annoyed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I should be with Auston right now. But no, you make co back here every single day. And now look."

She took a step back, her wand rising like a judge’s gavel. "Final chance, Azalea. I don’t want to go to the extre. I’m not heartless. But if you force my hand..."

Sothing shifted.

I felt the ether surge through her before she even spoke. My body recognized it before my brain could react.

Still, I didn’t lift my head.

Just do it. Just make sure I really die this ti.

I closed my eyes.

"Fine. FINE! You want it the hard way? Then let show you what pain at the soul level feels like!"

The ether flared around her.

"Luciphera’s Blessing."

My body stiffened.

She was using it—her blessing.

Fuck. Just kill already, you bitch. Fucking kill .

"Fourth Form: Helix Curse."

Her eyes flared a fierce, unnatural blue.

Then—it hit.

And it wasn’t pain.

No... it transcended pain.

A finger slowly charred to ash, flesh peeled away inch by inch—that would’ve been nothing. Needles stabbing from wrist to shoulder? Eyes gouged, healed, gouged again?

All nothing compared to this.

There were no flas. No visible wounds. But it felt like a thousand tiny creatures were burrowing beneath my skin, knives in hand, peeling apart layer by layer, searching for my soul.

"It has different effects depending on the individual," she said distantly. "Since you’re unawakened... this should suffice."

Her voice barely registered.

What even was this? An evolving sickness? A living agony? My body tried to adapt, but it couldn’t.

It couldn’t catch up.

Couldn’t adjust.

It just... broke.

"Tsk! How much longer?!" she snapped, biting her nail in frustration. "How can I waste this much ti and still get nothing?! Damn you, you thick-skinned bastard!"

Sothing new.

Buried beneath the pain—sothing else was stirring.

Like fire in my veins.

Was this the end?

No.

This... was sothing worse.

My mind began to unravel, slipping from my grasp.

Sothing cracked deep inside —within my heart.

I felt it.

Sothing vital was dying.

I wasn’t just in pain—I was losing sothing.

Sothing essential.

I was losing what made Noel.

And then—

The tears stopped.

The pain stopped mattering.

Emotion drained from like blood from a slit throat. I felt...

Nothing.

A terrible, cold emptiness. The past, the mories that used to haunt every waking mont—they faded into silence.

What... what was happening?

Was this death?

No. I had died before. It wasn’t like this.

This wasn’t the end of a body.

It was the end of a self.

Piece by piece, everything I was, everything I had been—was being torn away.

And then, at last, my life flashed before my eyes.

Not joy.

Not love.

Just pain.

Betrayal.

Tornt.

Inequality.

Even the people I had called family—

All I saw... was regret.

This was the end.

The end of Noel.

The end of Azalea.

Just two nas.

Footnotes in the cruel, uncaring margins of fate.