THE PERFECT VILLAIN: Another chance with a system
Chapter 1: I AM... WELL, I AM.

Chapter 1: I AM... WELL, I AM.

"Traitor!"

"Execute him!"

"Kill him!"

The voices of the crowd rose as they surrounded a man—bruised, beaten, and bound in chains.

Aurelian Veritas.

He was one of the five great heroes who had saved humanity from the demon invasion. Now he was on his knees, his head resting on an executioner’s block.

He watched them all cheer for his death as a lady stepped up to the podium. She had long blonde hair and carried a large blade.

Amira—also one of the five great heroes. She wore a smug smile.

"You bitch! You all set me up!"

Amira’s smile faltered for the crowd’s sake. She turned to them with a look of solemn regret.

"This man betrayed humanity," she announced, voice ringing clear. "He conspired with the demons to overthrow our kingdoms. When his plan failed, he tried to slither back into our ranks. But we found proof."

She pulled out a paper bearing a wolf crest. It was Aurelian’s crest, stamped on it. "This is the deal we recovered from the demons. This is proof of his betrayal!"

The crowd erupted again.

"Kill him!"

"Traitor!"

"Burn his home and his family!"

It was merely a crest—anyone could have used his insignia. That was obvious. But the crowd didn’t care. The kingdoms had been at war before the demon invasion, and that had cost many lives before the heroes stepped forward. They needed someone to blame. Someone to take the fall for their shortcomings.

Aurelian had defeated many demons on his own. But since he had returned without their bodies, they concluded he had been conspiring with them. Everything was built on speculation, with no real proof—and yet he was to pay for it.

The Church was present. The king stood high above on his court. The other heroes were there too. And yet, none defended him.

In that instant, the crowd parted as a woman and a child were led in chains to the stand. His wife and daughter.

"No... no, leave them out of this! I’ll accept whatever punishment you give—please, don’t hurt them!" Aurelian cried out, but no one responded.

They threw food at his wife and child. Others cursed at them as they climbed the podium.

"Elara." Aurelian’s voice dropped to a sob. "I didn’t do any of this."

She looked back with a smile, her chin lifted, her shoulders steady beneath the chains. "I know, honey. Maybe we’re just unlucky this time."

Her voice didn’t shake. They were badly bruised, and his daughter still managed to smile.

"Father, it’s alright. We’ll be fine."

Her small voice came out just as calm as his wife’s. Aurelian’s chest caved inward; he pressed his forehead to the cold stone of the block, shoulders jerking, the chains rattling with every breath he couldn’t hold steady. He turned to Amira, his hands trembling against the ropes—hands that hadn’t shaken like this even in front of demons.

"Please, Amira. Let them go. You can put the blame on me—all of it. I’ll accept it. I won’t argue. I won’t fight. Please, just let them go."

His voice cracked on the last word, something it hadn’t done since he was thirteen, watching a demon’s claws through the gap in a closet door.

"Oh, now you want to confess? You betrayed humankind. And according to the law of this kingdom, both you and your bloodline shall be executed." She paused, glancing back at Elara and the girl. "—You should be grateful this is all the family you have left."

Aurelian fell face-first to the ground, forehead grinding against the stone, fists tearing at the chains until his wrists split. "Please, Amira. Don’t forget all the missions we had together. The promises we made. Please! Please, Amira!"

"You crossed the line first," she muttered coldly, then signaled the guards. They lowered the ropes and looped them around the necks of his wife and daughter. Aurelian was still pleading, head down—until Amira snapped her fingers.

Aurelian heard the sound of the ropes stretching taut. Only then did his pleading stop. He lifted his head.

Hanging from the ropes were his wife and daughter. Around him, the crowd cheered with excitement, as though they had been rewarded with gold.

For a moment, their voices faded as he recalled his daughter’s laughter, his wife’s smile. His gaze fixed on their bodies suspended in the air. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. The chains around his wrists had gone still.

"I’ll kill you," his voice came out, barely a whisper.

"I’ll kill all of you!" This time, it was a louder scream. "May I never be reborn. May we never cross paths again. May my soul fade out of existence!"

He looked at Amira, unblinking, his jaw locked so tight it ached. "If I am ever reborn, everyone will pay! All of you will—"

Before he could finish, Cael—one of the five heroes—chopped off his head with his sword. Blood splashed across the podium. His eyes finally rolled back as darkness consumed everything.

---

HOW SAD.

A voice muttered in the darkness, echoing from all directions.

"Who’s there?" Aurelian asked, unable to see anything. The place had no sense of up or down.

I AM... WELL, I AM. THAT IS MY NAME.

"I Am? Where am I?"

YOU ARE IN THE EMPTY SPACE. THE PLACE BEYOND WORLDS. WELCOME, AURELIAN.

"Wh... where are my family? Are they safe?"

YES, THEY HAVE MADE IT OVER. THEY SHALL BE REBORN IN A COUPLE OF YEARS—PERHAPS IN THIS WORLD OR ANOTHER.

"Then take me to them. I need to find them," he replied instantly.

THERE WOULD BE NO USE FOR THAT. THEY WILL BE REBORN IN SEPARATE TIMES AND PLACES. AND THEY WILL FORGET EVERYTHING FROM THIS LIFE. YOU WON’T GET THE PERFECT FAMILY YOU ONCE HAD.

Aurelian said nothing. His hands, still stained red in his mind, hung useless at his sides. It didn’t matter if he was reborn or not—he still wouldn’t have them. "Then why am I here?"

YOU WERE GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE TO START OVER. WHICH DO YOU PREFER?

A NEW LIFE IN A NEW WORLD—REBORN INTO THE WORLD AS A CHILD. OR TRANSMIGRATE INTO THE BODY OF A DEAD DEMON PRINCE.

YOU WOULD KEEP YOUR MEMORIES IN EITHER CASE.

Aurelian stayed silent for a while. He could start over in a new world and live for himself. He could be reborn and correct his path this time. But then, an image of Amira’s smug face appeared in his mind—and his daughter’s voice followed:

"Father, it’s alright. We’ll be fine."

His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He still heard the crowd cheering as his daughter was hanged.

Despicable. Humans are despicable.

Then he recalled his parents’ bodies on the ground after a demon tore through them. The laughter of the demon as he hid in the closet. They were monsters too.

If humans and demons are both vile, then I’ve already decided the path I’ll follow. I’ll bring back hell. This time, I’ll be the perfect villain.

He looked up at the voice, a smile appearing on his face as he replied:

"I choose to be transmigrated into the body of a demon. I won’t wait another decade or two before they pay."

VERY WELL THEN. YOU WILL BE TRANSMIGRATED INTO THE BODY OF A DEMON. YOU WILL START AS A 500-YEAR-OLD DEMON PRINCE.

ALSO, YOU WILL BE GIVEN A SYSTEM. WITH IT, YOU RECEIVE—AN AUTHORITY, A UNIQUE SKILL, AND AN ARCANE MAGIC.

In that moment, a system window popped up in front of Aurelian.

Notice:

Abilities:

Authority: Theft

Unique Skill: Calamity Evolution

Arcane Magic: Shape Shifting

Threat Level: DEMON

Title: The Prince of Calamity

Aurelian studied the system in silence, pondering its purpose—yet before the question could fully form on his lips, the voice answered the unspoken.

"AT THE END OF WHATEVER JOURNEY YOU CHOOSE, YOU WILL FIND ITS WORTH."

"Is that so?" A faint smile flickered across his face, there and gone in an instant. Then, like a leech that refuses to loosen its grip, the past fastened itself once more to his memory.

The rope sound was still in his ears. He let himself hear it once — the creak, the two soft thuds — and then he set it down, deliberately. Grief was a door. He’d open it later, alone, when it couldn’t be used against him. But for now, he had a second chance.

Authorities were the rarest kind of abilities to possess, and four out of five heroes had one. He had been the only one without—and had risen to their rank through sheer skill and experience.

Authority of Theft. This is already starting great.

He closed the system and looked back into the void. "Now, let’s get this started, shall we?"

The voice giggled briefly before replying:

VERY WELL THEN. I HOPE YOUR NEW LIFE FAVORS YOU MORE THAN THE LAST.

Aurelian smiled back. "It will."

His voice faded into the darkness.

---

"Huh?"

Aurelian opened his eyes, looking around at the unfamiliar place. He felt a cold liquid on his skin. Looking down, he saw he was lying in a pool of his own blood.

"What happened to him?"

He said as he stood up. Almost immediately, memories hit—bringing him to his knees. It lasted for a moment, then stopped. Only one name came to mind:

Vael Drakhar.

The name of the demon whose body he had occupied. He recalled his last moments and the one who had murdered him—his own brother.

Aurelian stood up slowly and walked toward a mirror on the wall. He looked at his reflection—red eyes, black hair with a horn at the center of his forehead. He noticed his fingers were longer. It was exactly like the demons he had fought.

Vael, huh? I like that name.

He walked toward the window, gazing out at the vast wasteland of the demons. His shoulders sat loose, unguarded, in a way they never had in the old body — no tension coiled behind the ribs, no old instinct bracing for a blade at his back. He rolled his neck once and let it stay that way.

He looked up at the crimson moon that rose above the wasteland. Then he giggled briefly before muttering to himself:

"Now, let’s begin."