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The Villain's Side Of the Story In The New Plot

I find myself in an unexpected role - the villain. It's a realization that dawns upon me, and I must admit, I never saw myself as the hero. Deep down, I carried a sense of responsibility for the resentment and animosity people harboured towards me. Perhaps I truly wasn't as kind or benevolent as the protagonist. Yet, I can't fully embrace the label of a villain. It perplexes me to awaken one day and comprehend that everyone else, including those I was prepared to protect at the cost of my own life, perceives me as such. To add to the weight of this revelation, fate has bestowed upon me an immense burden—the task of saving humanity itself. The irony is not lost on me. As a villain, it is not my duty to preserve the world. However, to whom should I entrust this responsibility? Should I leave it to the protagonist, whose primary pursuit seems to be amassing a personal harem under the guise of luring beauty? The very hero who possessed the most potent cheat codes yet failed to fulfil his duty in the end. This same hero seeks to safeguard our enemies simply because they currently reside in a state of peace. Ah, the mere thought of that hypocrite, convincing himself that he desires control to protect the innocent, ignites a fire within me. Sighing deeply, I come to a resolution. Yes, I will undertake the task of saving this chaotic world, but I will do it on my terms. Those who dare cross my path shall soon comprehend why the world itself deems me a villain. [This revised novel, a departure from my debut "The Villain Side of the Novel," introduces an alternate plotline where Fray persists in the struggle for the throne. The narrative unfolds on a previously unexplored continent, a departure from the original setting, providing a fresh and intriguing starting point.]

Fri123 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
77 Chs

Jared Dalma

In the dimly lit, vast expanse of the abandoned warehouse, the stench of decay mingled with the metallic tang of blood. The man, bound to a chair with thick ropes cutting into his raw, exposed flesh, writhed in agony. His body was a canvas of horror, chunks of skin torn away, revealing muscle and bone, and his fingernails ripped off, leaving behind a trail of crimson.

His screams echoed off the walls, a symphony of pain and defiance. "I'll never talk! Just end it!" His voice cracked with agony as he spat defiance at the two men standing watch over him.

The men, clad in ancient knight armors bearing the insignia of the Dalma family, remained stoic amid the suffering. But as hours passed without any results, frustration began to show on their faces.

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