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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Throughout her short life, the first words Verdandi could recall hearing were:
“Verdandi, I’m so sorry…”
Her mother had uttered those words, weeping, before Verdandi could even walk.
Even now, Verdandi couldn’t understand why her mother cried while looking at her.
In her memories of that day, her mother had tried to strangle her.
“Sorry… I’m so sorry…”
She had been so close to death.
Why did her mother look so sad after trying to kill her?
Why did her grip loosen, her face contorted with pain?
As a three-year-old, Verdandi couldn’t comprehend those conflicting emotions, that mixture of guilt and affection. She couldn’t understand how a parent could love their child, even an unwanted one, and still attempt to take their life.
“Verdandi, I love you more than anything in the world. This is all my fault, not yours…”
She couldn’t grasp why her mother apologized, her voice cracking with grief.
Back then, she didn’t know that she was the product of a violent assault, conceived against her mother’s will. She couldn’t grasp the reality of almost dying at the hands of her own parent.
She was too young, too innocent to understand the complexities of an adult’s choices.
– [The person before you is lying.]
– [The person before you is evil.]
At that moment, as death loomed, a translucent window with those words had appeared before her eyes.
“Mama’s doing this because she loves you. Please, forgive me…”
– [The person before you is lying.]
– [The person before you is evil.]
Even now, years later, that translucent window, the harbinger of all her nightmares, still appeared before her.
It became her moral compass, her guide to navigating the world, shaping her perception of her parents. It was the reason she addressed her mother formally, creating a distance between them.
There was no one she could confide in, no one who could help her understand the conflicting emotions of love and resentment.
Years passed, and Verdandi’s hair grew long, cascading down her back like a golden waterfall.
“Hey! My mom said you’re the child of a whore! That’s why your dad ran away!”
She began to understand how the world perceived her. Children were often more sensitive to insults and cruel words than adults.
“My mom said I’m not allowed to play with dirty kids like you.”
Whenever she tried to befriend the other children, they would push her away while spewing various insults.
They pointed fingers, they threw dirt, they put ants in her hair.
“Get out of our village, you witch!”
Her face and clothes were stained with mud, her knees and elbows scraped and bleeding. She cried, she screamed, but no one cared.
In this small village, secrets spread like wildfire. Everyone knew about her birth, how bandits had attacked the village years ago, assaulting several women and leaving them with unwanted pregnancies.
‘…If I try hard enough, people will see that I’m not a bad person!’
Verdandi devised a plan to escape the constant judgment and scorn. She braided her hair neatly, determined to present a more presentable appearance.
She started speaking formally to both adults and children, hoping to appear polite and respectful. She volunteered for every chore, trying to prove her worth.
But…
“You’re creepy. You just smile, even when people hit you or make fun of you!”
“Haha, is that so…?”
Her efforts backfired.
She became a hollow shell, devoid of genuine emotion. She smiled through the pain, through the insults, never allowing herself to express anger or sadness.
She was terrified of showing her true feelings, terrified of being labeled a “bad child” and abandoned once more.
“That idiot actually works for free! What a fool! I’m definitely going to use her again.”
“…”
Even when she realized she was being used, she couldn’t bring herself to speak up, to resist.
She just wanted to be needed, to be helpful.
“Verdandi, you don’t need to come to our house anymore. There are rumors spreading in the village…”
“Yes, of course! I understand! I’m a good girl! I won’t bother you anymore, grandpa!”
She pretended to be unaffected, even when she heard the whispers, the gossip that followed her like a shadow. She forced a smile, clinging desperately to a facade of normalcy.
In the end, her kindness was met with rejection. No matter how hard she tried to escape this hell, there was no one to help her.
‘…Mother, why didn’t you kill me back then?’
She had pleaded with everyone in the village, everyone except her mother, to see her for who she truly was. But they all turned her away.
Walking home in the pouring rain, she tried to avoid her reflection in the puddles.
– [The person before you is good.]
She saw her reflection: blue eyes, golden hair. The translucent window hovered above her, classifying her as ‘good’.
Even if she was the product of violence, an unwanted child, it wasn’t her fault.
‘But even if I am good, what the villagers said was true.’
The absolute judgment of good and evil.
She possessed an innate ability to measure a person’s worth, to weigh their deeds on a scale and determine the balance between good and evil.
She wanted to prove to the world that she wasn’t the villain they all believed her to be.
‘…So, they deserve to die, don’t they?’
Ironically, her abilities, the Scales of Justice and the Eyes of Truth, clouded her judgment, warping her perception of the world.
And so, she became obsessed with ‘justice’. She craved a world populated by ‘good’ people, people who didn’t register as evil in her eyes.
She wanted to find someone, anyone, who was truly perfect.
– [Verdandi, from this day forth, you shall be the Hero of Justice, tasked with punishing the wicked.]
Then, one night, a god appeared to her in a dream.
The Divine, the embodiment of light in this world, Solarion the Lion, had delivered his oracle.
“Me…?”
– [Yes. Your blade shall strike down the Demon King, and you shall banish the darkness from this world.]
Verdandi had secretly longed for this moment. She wanted confirmation that she was right, that the world was wrong.
“Thank you, Divine!”
She felt a sense of relief, a lightness in her chest, a joy she had never experienced before.
-[This is proof of your destiny. Treasure it always.]
A crown of light, like an angel’s halo, materialized above her head.
“I’m the Hero! That means Mother, who never loved me, is evil! She deserves to die!”
Upon waking, Verdandi made meticulous preparations, fueled by her newfound purpose.
“I shall deliver justice!”
She firmly believed that she was good, and everyone else was evil.
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A picturesque village, fields of golden wheat swaying in the breeze, leaves turning shades of red and gold, a picture of autumnal tranquility.
“So this is Wonderhill.”
I stepped out of the carriage, surveying my surroundings. The villagers eyed us with suspicion.
This village was inherently xenophobic. I had made it that way.
“This village doesn’t seem very welcoming, for a bunch of bumpkins.”
“Of course not. This is that kind of place.”
It was a personal hell, crafted to mold Verdandi into a twisted Hero.
“Master, where are those in need of our assistance? You mentioned them before we embarked on this journey.”
“…You’ll find them in the back alleys. The sick, the desperate, those who’ve sold their bodies and organs to survive.”
I spoke with a bitter smile. Beneath the idyllic facade of this village lay a dark underbelly, a truth I had woven into its very fabric.
“And the villagers…?”
“Yes. They’ve driven the weak and the unfortunate into the shadows, content to live in their own little bubble of privilege. Even beggars have a stronger sense of justice and compassion.”
The reason Verdandi judged the villagers to be evil, the reason no one showed her any kindness, was simple.
The village headman and the residents had conspired to isolate the ‘undesirables’, segregating themselves from those they deemed unworthy.
“…They’re all in on it? Master, your insight is truly remarkable! This disciple, Bi Wol, is eternally grateful for your wisdom!”
Bi Wol nodded, absorbing my words. I patted her head approvingly.
“To think my junior sister resides in such a wretched place… I, Bi Wol, am filled with sorrow! I understand why you came to save her, Master!”
“I actually took a boat to get here just to make sure those pompous royals didn’t get their hands on her first…”
Wolfram, seeing Bi Wol’s reaction, tried to pat her head as well, but…
“Don’t touch me. The only person in this world worthy of touching my hair is my one and only master, the greatest in the world, the unparalleled leader of the evil sects!”
Hold on, Bi Wol. I’m not the leader of the evil sects.
I was speechless at her blatant exaggeration. I was neither the greatest in the world, nor was I the leader of the evil sects.
My origins were from the Five Poison Sect, so I could be considered part of the evil factions.
However, the true leader of the evil sects was the Demonic Sect Leader, and the strongest individual in this world was Bi Wol herself, with her potential to become the Heavenly Demon.
“And he’s even earned the title of ‘Dragon’!”
“Does that mean he’s on par with a Dragon Slayer? He must be incredible!”
“You two are embarrassing me.”
I hung my head, wiping away the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. This absurd fusion of fantasy and martial arts was too much, even for me.
It was my story, and yet, it felt alien.
“…Master, I smell blood. A strong scent coming from that direction.”
“Lead the way, Bi Wol.”
As I looked around, searching for any sign of Verdandi, Bi Wol wrinkled her nose, pointing towards a specific house.
“It’s coming from there, Master.”
It was a small, drab house made of grey bricks, exactly as I had described it in the novel.
“Is anyone home?”
I knocked on the door, but there was no response.
This was strange. In the original story, Verdandi’s mother would have greeted Wolfram at the door, leading to Verdandi’s dramatic entrance.
“Hello? We’re here to see the Hero!”
I felt a prickling sensation, a sense of unease, as if something was terribly wrong. I pounded on the door again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Silence. But Bi Wol’s expression changed, her eyes narrowing with concern.
“Master, the smell of blood is getting stronger. And the person inside… their breathing is getting weaker. We need to act quickly…”
“…This isn’t good. I’m going to break down the door. Bi Wol, if there’s someone injured inside, I need your help.”
First Stance of the Ice Crystal Divine Art: Ice Shattering Fist!
My fist connected with the door, sending splinters of wood flying as it burst inwards.
“What’s going on? Who are you?!”
We stepped inside, greeted by a scene of carnage. Blood splattered the walls and floor.
“…Verdandi Astrea.”
A middle-aged woman lay slumped against the wall, bleeding profusely. Standing before her, a young girl, covered in blood, smiled brightly.
“You know my name! What an honor!”
It was her, the final boss from my story, Verdandi.
“Gasp… S-She’s… She’s dead…!!”
“Not yet. She’s still breathing.”
Bi Wol quickly reassured Wolfram, who was struggling to breathe, her face pale with shock.
Verdandi’s actions deviated from the original story. She was supposed to attack Wolfram.
What had gone wrong?
“Wolfram, can you use healing magic?”
“Y-Yes! If she’s still alive, I can heal her!”
I calmly instructed Wolfram to tend to Verdandi’s mother. With Bi Wol’s assistance, they might be able to save her without provoking Verdandi.
“Bi Wol, help the Master of the Gold Tower. Treat that woman, then get as far away from here as possible.”
My original plan was to use Bi Wol to subdue Verdandi, but I had to adapt to the situation.
“B-But… Master…”
“It’s alright. This is something I need to handle myself.”
I forced a smile, hoping to reassure her. She nodded, reluctantly moving to assist Wolfram.
“Unbelievable! A villain trying to save someone? Amazing! Are all villains this compassionate?”
“…Does your ability classify me as a villain? That’s unexpected.”
The title of ‘Archvillain’ was something she’d earned at the end of the story, after committing countless atrocities.
It was the ending I’d envisioned for [You Must Kill the Hero], the ending I never wrote.
I had planned for Verdandi to take her own life after realizing the depths of her own wickedness.
“You’re not planning on talking your way out of this, are you?”
“I’m going to fight you, whether you like it or not! Don’t think you can just whisk away that villain while I’m standing here!”
I had to be the one to face Verdandi.
“I am Bing Yeon, and I have come from the East to take you as my disciple.”
“…What did you say?”
“I’m saying, you’re going to be my student.”
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