Ricochet stopped, his drunken swagger faltering. He squinted into the oppressive darkness of the alley, trying to make sense of the figure that had materialised from the shadows.
"The hell are you?" he slurred, his hand instinctively going to his side. "Some kinda wannabe? You know who I am? I'm a hero."
I said nothing. The layered, inhuman voice I had used on Caden felt wrong for this.
This wasn't a performance. This was an execution. My silence was my answer.
He took it as weakness. A slow, ugly smirk spread across his face.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
He took a step forward, puffing out his chest. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you just made a big mistake. You should've stayed in the shadows, freak."
He lunged, his movements surprisingly fast for a man full of cheap beer. He threw a punch, and I saw a faint shimmer of kinetic energy envelop his fist.
It would hit like a sledgehammer.
But I wasn't there.
My Predator's Sense had screamed a warning a full second before he moved. I used Shadow Step, dissolving into the darkness and reappearing ten feet behind him.
The world lurched, but my focus was absolute.
He stumbled, his punch hitting nothing but air. He spun around, his eyes wide with confusion.
"What the—?"
I didn't give him time to think. I darted forward, the Choke-Wire Spool held tight in my hands, the micro-filament wire stretched taut between them.
He saw me coming and tried to activate his power, creating a shimmering field around his body to redirect my attack.
It was a clumsy, panicked defence. His power was designed to deflect projectiles, to ricochet physical blows. It had no answer for a silent, featureless wire aimed at his neck.
I ducked under his wild swing, my movements fluid and economical.
I was inside his guard. The wire looped easily over his head, and I pulled back with all my strength, using his own forward momentum against him.
The wire bit deep.
The sound he made was not a word. It was a choked, gurgling gasp, a sound of pure, animal terror. He clawed at his throat, his fingers finding nothing but the impossibly thin filament slicing into his skin.
His eyes bulged, staring at me with a horror that eclipsed all his drunken arrogance. In that final moment, he saw me for what I was: not a victim, not a wannabe, but his end.
His body convulsed, his legs kicking uselessly. I held on, my knuckles white, my entire being focused on this single, horrific act.
The cold stone of dread in my gut was churning, threatening to overwhelm me, but I remembered the police report. I remembered the girl who had disappeared.
I held on.
The struggle lasted for what felt like an eternity, but was likely less than a minute. His movements weakened. The light in his eyes faded, replaced by a dull, empty stare.
His body went limp, a dead weight I let fall to the grimy cobblestones.
Silence.
The only sound was the frantic, ragged gasp of my own breathing. I stared down at the body, at the cheap hero costume now just a shroud for a dead rapist.
I had done it. I had killed a man.
The System chimed in my mind, its notification a grotesque intrusion on the sacred horror of the moment.
[Mission Complete: Punishment]
[Reward: 500 VP, 200 EXP, 1x [Raiment Upgrade Module] awarded.]
I didn't feel victorious. I didn't feel powerful. I felt… empty.
Hollowed out. I stumbled back, my legs trembling violently, and vomited into the shadows. The nausea was real this time, a physical rejection of the line I had just crossed.
My hands shook uncontrollably as I let the Choke-Wire dissolve back into my inventory.
I used Shadow Step again, not with tactical precision, but with a desperate, blind need to be anywhere else. I appeared on a rooftop blocks away, where I collapsed, my Raiment still clinging to me like a funeral shroud.
The trauma was a physical weight, pressing down on me, threatening to suffocate me. I had become the monster. And it felt like dying.
I don't know how long I stayed on that rooftop. Eventually, the cold and the shaking subsided, replaced by a profound, soul-deep exhaustion.
I knew I couldn't go back to my room. I couldn't face that sterile silence alone. There was only one person I could turn to.
I found Maya in her small, cluttered apartment, which served as her home, art studio, and our unofficial propaganda ministry.
I sent her a single text: Let me in.
When she opened the door and saw me standing there, my Raiment materialised, my posture defeated, she didn't ask questions.
She simply stepped aside and let me in.
I let the shadows dissolve, revealing Luna, pale and trembling. I sank onto her couch, wrapping my arms around myself.
"The mission," I whispered, my own voice sounding fragile and alien after using the Villainess's echo.
"The D-Rank hero, Ricochet."
Maya sat opposite me, her expression serious, her usual sharp energy softened by concern. "The exposé?"
I shook my head, the simple movement feeling like it took all my strength.
"No. Not an exposé." I took a shaky breath and forced myself to say the word. "An elimination."
The word hung in the air between us. Maya's eyes widened slightly, the full implication of what I was saying dawning on her.
She looked at my trembling hands, at the haunted look in my eyes, and she understood.
"You did it yourself," she stated, not a question, but a confirmation.
I nodded, unable to speak.
She didn't recoil. She didn't judge. She simply leaned forward, her voice soft.
"Tell me what happened."
And so I did. I told her about the mission, the penalty, the choice I was forced to make. I didn't give her the graphic details of the act itself, but I told her about the weight of it, the hollowness it left behind.
I confessed my fear, my revulsion, the trauma of becoming a killer.
When I was done, she was silent for a long moment.
"A villain isn't just someone who breaks the rules," she said finally, her voice full of a wisdom beyond her years.
"A villain is someone who makes their own. The Guild has rules to protect its image. You have rules to protect the innocent.
You didn't commit murder tonight, Luna. You delivered a judgment that the so-called heroes were too corrupt or too cowardly to deliver themselves."
Her words didn't erase the horror, but they gave it a context, a meaning. They were a balm on the raw wound in my soul.
Two days later, the city was buzzing. The first story was a minor news brief: a D-list hero found dead in the industrial sector, presumed to be a victim of gang violence.
The Guild issued a brief, perfunctory statement and moved on. No one cared.
But then, the new chapters of "The Villainess Archives" dropped.
The first was titled "The Heist of the Ghost," a thrilling, high-tech retelling of the OmniCorp mission, full of impossible feats and last-second escapes.
It established my team as brilliant, coordinated operatives.
The second chapter was different. It was titled simply, "Judgment."
The art was dark, visceral. Maya had used her Empathic Ink skill to its full effect.
The chapter opened not on the Villainess, but on a terrified young woman, her face obscured but her fear and pain rendered in gut-wrenching detail.
Readers didn't just see her story; they felt her violation.
They felt the cold indifference of the authorities who buried her report. Then, it showed Ricochet, not as a hero, but as a leering monster, a predator cloaked in blue and silver.
The final pages were a masterpiece of implication. It didn't show the kill. It showed a silent, shadowy figure appearing before the monster.
It showed a single panel of the monster's face, contorted in a mask of pure terror. And the final page was just the Villainess, standing alone under a moonless sky, with a single, cold caption:
"Some lines should never be crossed. Some debts must be paid in full."
The reaction was explosive. The manhwa, already popular, became a cultural phenomenon overnight. People weren't just reading a story; they were participating in a new kind of justice.
The comment section on the site blew up:
User_StrongholdFan1: OMG! The OmniCorp heist was insane! Oracle is my new favourite! So smart!
User_CyberPunk2077: The 'Judgment' chapter… man. That was heavy. I actually felt sick for that girl. Good riddance to that Ricochet creep.
User_HeroGuildWatcher: Is this even legal? Publishing this? This is inciting vigilantism! The Guild needs to shut this down!
User_LOLz_get_rekt: >>HeroGuildWatcher lol cry more, bootlicker. The Villainess did what the heroes wouldn't. Get rekt, Ricochet.
User_ArtStudent99: Can we talk about the art in 'Judgment'? The use of shadow and negative space is incredible. The artist makes you feel everything without showing you anything graphic. It's genius.
User_HavocIsMyBae: HAVOC NEEDS MORE SCREEN TIME!!! WHEN DO WE SEE HIM SMASH STUFF??
User_ConspiracyTheoristX: Wait, wait, wait. The news said Ricochet was a gang killing. This manhwa is claiming the Villainess did it. Is this a confession? Is this REAL? My mind is blown.
User_TheRealMVP: The real MVP is the artist. They're telling the stories that the mainstream media is too scared to touch. Whoever you are, thank you.
I read the comments on Maya's datapad, a faint, weary smile on my face.
The world didn't see a traumatised girl who had been forced to kill. They saw a righteous avenger, a dark goddess of justice.
Maya hadn't just documented my actions; she had sanctified them.
She had turned my trauma into a legend. And the legend of the Evil Villainess was now cemented not in mischief, but in blood.