THE PERFECT VILLAIN: Another chance with a system
Chapter 39: We Meet Again

Chapter 39: We Meet Again

Supreme Saint?

Vael thought, a flicker of disdain crossing his face. Why would the Supreme Saint want to see him? Not even S-ranks were granted opportunities like this.

Something wasn’t adding up — but he still had Teleportation ready if he needed it. He smiled at the man and replied, "It would be an honor. Where and when, sir?"

"The Grand Cathedral," the man said, pointing west across Warstone. Vael already knew the location, but he’d play along regardless. "You’re to speak with the White Order. Before midday tomorrow."

"The White Order? Is that what they call the Supreme Saint now?" Vael asked, surprise slipping into his voice. Nothing about that name rang a bell from his old life. The man’s brow creased, and Vael quickly added, "Sorry — I’ve been away nearly eight months. I don’t know who the White Order is."

The man’s expression eased. "Can’t explain it fully right now, but think of it as more of a supreme council. That’s the best I can offer — you’ll find the details from someone else."

Vael didn’t push further. A supreme council was nothing short of a grand conspiracy dressed up in politeness, and clearly one that had formed sometime after his death. A lot had changed, it seemed — just not obviously.

"Alright. I’ll be there," he said, bowing politely. The man turned to leave, and Vael watched him vanish into the streets before turning away himself. That last reveal made him reconsider — the spotlight might not be so bad, if the shadows were where the real game was being played.

---

As promised, he made his way to the Grand Cathedral the next morning. It was impossible to miss — the largest building in the city, second only to the castle.

Inside, two women in long white robes and veils approached and gave him a polite bow.

"Good day, Sir Niel," one of them said. "We’ve been expecting you. Follow me."

Without waiting for a response, they turned and led him toward a large door at the end of the hall. Vael followed until he reached it, and the two women stepped aside to let him through. He asked nothing. He walked to the door, drew a breath, and pushed it open.

Inside stood five tall structures, each draped in curtains — two on his left, two on his right, one directly ahead.

He stepped in and bowed toward the one in front of him, assuming someone waited behind it. In his old life, there had only ever been one such structure in this room — always positioned exactly where this one stood, always belonging to the Supreme Saint. Now there were five.

Vael wondered why the number had changed. He remembered five saints serving beneath the Supreme Saint — now he found himself wondering if something had happened to the Supreme Saints, if the saints had taken their place, one head splitting into five. That was his best guess, until the first voice spoke.

"Welcome, Niel," the voice came from the curtain directly ahead. "We’ve heard of your good work, and we must say, we’re impressed."

"I’m not worthy of such praise, sir. Still, I’ll always give my best for the kingdom’s cause," Vael replied, head still bowed. It was the custom when addressing a high saint, one he remembered well enough to follow without thinking.

Vael recognized that voice instantly. Unmistakable. The Supreme Saint, exactly as he remembered him — which left him momentarily thrown. If the Supreme Saint was still alive, who stood behind the other curtains?

Then a second voice spoke, from the curtain to his right, closer to the Supreme Saint’s. "You’re humble. That kind of nature always excels in Warstone."

The words landed before he’d even placed the voice. Humility was exactly what had defined his past life — and it had cost him everything. He’d been nothing more than a disposable piece to the Church.

Then it hit him. He knew that voice. He’d heard it more times than he could count. The King of Warstone.

That only deepened his unease. Why had they formed this supreme council? Were the other curtains prominent Warstone figures, or foreign kings from neighboring lands? The Church and the crown, though outwardly aligned, had never been close enough for a gathering like this. Something was off, and he intended to dig it out.

The voice ahead spoke again. "Sir Niel, we imagine you’re wondering why you’ve been summoned. It’s an important mission. We haven’t heard from Lady Amira, and the other heroes are occupied elsewhere, leaving us shorthanded. Since the hero’s leader recommended you personally, we’ve decided this task belongs to you."

Vael bowed a fraction deeper. "I’m honored you think so highly of me, sir. I’ll do everything I can to meet your expectations, whatever the task."

Silence settled over the hall for a moment before a woman’s voice rose from the right. "Then here is the mission. You will liberate a small village east of Warstone from a dragon attack."

"A dragon?" Vael asked.

"Yes. The traitor Aurelian once fought this same dragon and wounded it badly, nearly a decade ago. We believe it has fully healed and returned to its rampage."

Traitor. Vael thought. A man who’d left his family to defend this city, and they still called him a traitor. They hadn’t forgotten what he’d done for them — they simply refused to be grateful for it.

For now, he’d play along. But something else caught his attention. He knew that voice too — he’d heard it far too many times to mistake it. The hero Umar.

His fist clenched tight.

What the hell is going on?

Vael struggled to piece together the full shape of what stood before him. A hero, a king, and the head of the Church, all gathered behind one curtain arrangement. What could have forged an alliance like that? Still, this was a question for later — far too large to untangle here and now.

He offered a simple response instead. "I’ll do my best, sir."

The voice ahead spoke once more. "You’ll depart in three days. Once the mission is complete, you’ll receive fifty gold coins."

The situation only grew more suspicious. They weren’t even bothering to hide it — or perhaps they simply took him for a fool. Fifty gold was far too generous a sum for a single dragon, especially one that had nearly killed him the last time, years ago. Was this a suicide mission dressed up as an honor? Was that the real reason the other heroes were "unavailable"? There was more to this than anyone was saying.

He drew a slow breath and answered as casually as before. "Accepted. I’ll give it everything I have."

"Very well, then. You shall return within three days," the voice ahead confirmed.

"As you wish, sir." He gave a polite bow and turned to leave, but as he reached the door, another voice spoke — this one from the left, closer to the Supreme Saint.

"It is necessary that you not return until the dragon is dead. Is that clear?"

Vael turned back and answered, "Certainly. I’ll give it my all."

With that, he turned and walked out. That last voice lingered with him, pushing the others from his mind entirely. Something about it felt different — familiar in a way that wasn’t quite his own memory, more like something borrowed from a dream, or a vision he’d never actually lived through. He hadn’t been present for whatever moment that voice belonged to, hadn’t been spoken to by it directly, and yet he knew it. He was certain he knew it.

He walked out of the Grand Cathedral, turning the thought over as he went.

---

He spent the rest of the day turning the voice over in his mind. Some part of him recoiled from it instinctively, though the fear split into two distinct threads, neither one offering an answer.

Night had already fallen by the time he stepped out of the same restaurant he’d trusted the day before — the only place in the city he was willing to eat at twice.

As he walked down an empty street, the voice still echoing through his thoughts, he stopped in a dark alley and stared up at the moon for a long while. Then, without warning, the moon flickered red, and a memory surged forward to meet him.

It finally clicked why the voice had felt like a distant dream — because it was entirely his own. It was Vael’s memory. And the voice belonged to Cronos.

Pain split through his skull, and he braced himself against the nearest wall. Of everything he might have guessed, a demon sitting among the Supreme Order was the last thing he’d have accounted for.

"But why?"

He muttered to himself, unable to fully wrap his mind around it. Then his vision swam, and a sharp ache tore through his knee.

He couldn’t tell if it came from the forced memory or something else entirely. He forced himself to take a step forward, and his knee buckled beneath him, sending him down hard onto the ground.

Claire, what’s happening?

Silence answered him. Then a figure stepped out of the shadows and stopped in front of him, her voice soft and unhurried.

"Hello, Niel. We meet again."

Vael recognized the voice instantly. How could he forget the one person who’d made him feel real fear for the first time since his death?

Luna.

"How—how are you—"

Before he could finish, the world went black.