The Villain’s Last Stand: A Cycle’s End

The graduation gala of St. Nora’s College of Crests shimmered as the most brilliant jewel in the royal capital Lucien’s social season.

Crystal chandeliers cascaded light onto the polished marble floor, refracting into a myriad of vibrant hues.

The air, intoxicating with the effervescent pop of champagne, mingled with the layered, rich fragrances of expensive perfumes. Yet, what truly made this feast sparkle was the boundless anticipation of the future reflected in the eyes of the young nobles.

Livia von Stern, a luminous full moon embraced by countless stars, stood as the undisputed center of the evening.

She was clad in a pure white crocheted lace gown, every line perfectly tailored to accentuate the already blossoming, graceful curves of a young woman.

Delicate white silk stockings clung to her slender legs, while her feet were adorned with exquisite high heels, their slender heels barely touching the ground.

Her smooth, platinum-blonde hair cascaded down her back, adorned with a few small, pristine lily decorations interwoven within the strands.

The young woman’s cornflower blue eyes were as clear as a mountain spring, yet when her gaze swept across the crowd, it carried a perfectly balanced blend of gentle warmth and aloofness befitting her status as the top student.

Simply by standing there quietly, she effortlessly drew every eye and every compliment.

“Miss Livia, you saved my life during the recent cultist attack. My sincerest thanks to you.” A noble student stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

Livia merely gave a slight nod, her voice cool and firm. “Protecting others is my creed. There is no need for such formality.”

“Oh, Livia, we must keep in touch after graduation!” A noble girl with reddened eyes approached intimately, linking her arm through Livia’s.

“Of course,” Livia replied with a smile, though her body subtly maintained a polite distance.

“Miss Livia, is it true that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince intends to propose a marriage alliance with you?” A handsome young noble boldly voiced the question that had everyone present holding their breath with keen interest.

In an instant, the nobles in attendance discreetly pricked up their ears, their breathing softening.

They were concerned not merely with royal gossip, but with the political landscape of the Kingdom of Lorraine for decades to come.

Every decision Livia made held the potential to shatter the fragile balance between the kingdom’s various factions.

Livia’s slender eyelashes fluttered slightly, a perfectly measured hint of distress gracing her beautiful eyes. “That… I’m afraid I cannot disclose such matters at this time.”

Her answer was watertight, neither confirming nor denying, leaving only infinite room for speculation.

“Miss Livia, is the news of your official enlistment in the Royal Knights true?” someone else called out from the crowd.

This time, the hint of uncertainty faded from Livia’s smile, replaced by unwavering resolve. “Yes, I shall fulfill my duty to protect the kingdom’s populace.”

A timely burst of sincere admiration erupted from the crowd.

Livia was the embodiment of perfection, the undeniable pride of the academy, and the ideal rising star in the eyes of all Sword Nobles.

Sword Nobles were those true aristocrats whose bloodlines inherently carried the power of crests, and who had established their standing through generations of martial prowess and authority.

As for Robe Nobles, like the Lavals, who ascended to high society through wealth and tax-farming, they were, in the eyes of the Sword Nobles, nothing more than vulgar parvenus, reeking of coin.

****

In the most inconspicuous corner of the ballroom, Allen de Laval paid no mind to the glances cast his way, mixed with disdain and contempt.

He was currently holding a plate piled high with food, stuffing it into his mouth like a famished hamster.

Allen’s black hair clung somewhat disheveled to his temples, his complexion a sickly pallor from chronic sleep deprivation, and dark, heavy shadows hung beneath his eyes.

His semi-worn formal suit was riddled with wrinkles, a stark contrast to the elegant, perfumed opulence surrounding him.

While other nobles had meticulously adorned themselves to expand their networks, Allen’s casual, disheveled appearance made him seem more like an uninvited guest who had snuck into the banquet for free food and drink.

Though Allen was also a graduate of St. Nora’s College of Crests, the accusation of freeloading was not entirely unfounded.

Today’s graduation gala featured a lavish buffet personally prepared by the Royal Chef. To fully indulge in this luxurious feast, Allen had arrived so hungry he had to lean on the walls, vowing to leave equally stuffed, leaning on the walls once more.

The Laval family… had long since fallen into decline.

For the current Allen, simply finding enough to eat each day was a formidable challenge.

He mechanically chewed his food, his gaze furtively darting through the bustling crowd towards the resplendent Livia.

Simply admiring Livia’s exquisite beauty, Allen’s eyes unexpectedly welled up with tears.

After tonight, their lives would diverge like two parallel lines, never to intersect again.

A searing tear traced a path down Allen’s cheek, landing precisely on the foie gras on his plate.

This was not from sorrow.

It was from… an irrepressible euphoria.

‘Finally… it’s finally over!’

Allen silently screamed with all his might in his heart, so excited he nearly choked on his food.

He quickly grabbed a nearby stemmed glass, gulping down a large mouthful of expensive red wine. The result was a spectacularly loud fit of coughing, earning him utterly disgusted glares from several nearby nobles.

After today, he, Allen de Laval, this cannon fodder villain, this evil young master from the original game ‘Starlight Serenade’ who couldn’t survive three chapters, would finally bid farewell to Livia von Stern, the formidable heroine!

In the original plot, he wouldn’t even make it to the end of the academy arc, meeting his demise in various bizarre ways – but that was before!

Now, he, Allen, after enduring nine hundred and ninety-eight cycles of catastrophic endings, after being sent to hell countless times, directly or indirectly, by this walking plague, had finally, with the tenacious survival instinct of a cockroach, scraped by until the graduation gala.

What did this mean? It meant he had successfully circumvented all the death flags related to him in the original story! It meant he could finally escape Livia, the harbinger of death, and embrace the dawn of ‘living’!

Consider those agonizing cycles! Sacrificed as an offering by cultists, blown to smithereens by an out-of-control crest experiment, poisoned by jealous nobles until blood flowed from his orifices, crushed into a pulp by a passing runaway carriage, and even once incinerated by a ‘divine judgment’ lightning bolt for stepping out of the academy gate with his left foot first…

Allen’s soul was practically etched with dense epitaphs from these grotesque deaths.

But in this cycle, he had learned his lesson; he had kept his head down, living so discreetly he was like a ghost in the academy. He absolutely refused to provoke any plot characters, especially Livia, that formidable heroine!

He perfectly played the role of a background character who, aside from a tarnished reputation, possessed a pitifully low presence, successfully avoiding all known death events!

As for why he found himself in this damned game world?

It all started with that famous otome masterpiece, ‘Starlight Serenade’.

As an omnivorous otaku, Allen played all types of games before his transmigration. He stumbled upon lily fans raving about this game, praising its lily route as an industry benchmark, and out of curiosity, he clicked on it.

Allen quickly discovered that the game’s plot scope was terrifyingly vast, and its gameplay was so hardcore it would make you pull your hair out, ranging from nation-building to military strategy. Even playing with a guide would leave you sweating profusely.

He was grinding through an extremely complex hidden route when his vision suddenly went black. When he reopened his eyes, he had become the infamous, universally reviled evil young master from the game who constantly did foolish things—Allen de Laval.

His cheap old man was merely a Robe Noble who bought his title with money, and Allen himself was notorious for bullying men and women, a classic cannon fodder villain whose sole purpose was to obstruct the heroine Livia’s path to growth.

The only thing players liked about him was his myriad ways of dying—the official count of collectible death animations surprisingly exceeded a thousand!

Players reveled in watching him perish in various comical ways, especially those who adored the heroine, eagerly wishing him dead sooner to clear the path for the protagonist.

Allen had once been one of those gleeful players. Until he himself became Allen.

The satisfaction he once felt instantly killing the evil young master Allen with cheat crests was now matched by his current frustration.

‘It’s finally coming to an end… After tomorrow, I must escape to a place Livia can never find, to face the sea and bask in the spring blossoms.’

Imagining his wonderfully carefree future, Allen was moved to tears once more.

Witnessing Allen’s disgraceful appearance, weeping and laughing without a shred of noble decorum, the surrounding nobles openly began to murmur:

“Hey, isn’t that Allen de Laval? Didn’t his family go bankrupt ages ago? How does he still have the nerve to attend this banquet?”

“Damn it, the guards should just throw him out. His mere presence defiles Miss Livia’s purity!”

“That crestless good-for-nothing, who can’t win a single fight, has no right to be in the same space as us Sword Nobles!”

Allen automatically ignored these buzzing flies, thinking, ‘Does grandpa need your permission to eat at the buffet?’

‘What does my family’s bankruptcy have to do with you all?’

‘And what’s wrong with being crestless? Haven’t you seen a mortal flow narrative?’

Just as Allen decided to retreat behind a potted plant, out of sight of the nobles, to leisurely enjoy his meal, the two heavy oak doors of the ballroom burst open with a resounding bang.

Crown Prince Charles Durand, accompanied by a squad of fully armed Royal Knights, stormed in with an imposing aura.

The once boisterous, festive ballroom, filled with melodious music, fell into a deathly silence at that instant.

Charles Durand wore a magnificent white uniform trimmed with gold, his face as handsome as an ancient sculpture, his ice-blue eyes sharp as a hawk’s.

He elegantly nodded to the crowd, his calm and reassuring demeanor quieting the agitated throng and the startled graduates.

Then, his gaze pierced through the crowd, landing precisely on Livia, his tone carrying a hint of formal concern:

“Miss Livia, I apologize for interrupting this grand occasion. It is an urgent matter.”

Immediately, his sharp gaze swept across the crowd with an oppressive intensity.

Allen’s heart abruptly constricted.

He knew this damned plot so well he could recite it backward!

In the original story, the Crown Prince had discovered cultists infiltrating the banquet to assassinate Livia, thus arriving just in time to stage a classic hero-saves-the-beauty scenario.

Yet Allen distinctly remembered that to ensure he received his diploma without incident, he had secretly ‘dealt with’ that cultist, disguised as a student, well in advance.

That unfortunate cultist’s bones should now be fertilizing the academy’s back garden. Why was this event still triggering?!

Having died nine hundred and ninety-eight times, he had grown accustomed to the world’s bone-deep malice towards him.

He held no illusions; the Crown Prince’s visit was one hundred percent directed at him.

Allen acted decisively, holding his unfinished plate of food, he lowered his head deeply, attempting to use the crowd’s cover to burrow into its densest part.

Unfortunately, wherever he went, the crowd parted for him as if he were a plague, creating a vacuum. The Crown Prince’s gaze soon locked onto Allen, conspicuously isolated in the throng.

“Allen de Laval!”

Charles’s voice, like a cold hammer of judgment, struck heavily through the air of the hall, resounding throughout.

Allen’s body instantly froze.

Charles took a step forward, looking down at him with an air of condescension, his eyes undisguised in their disgust.

“Your father, Bernard de Laval, as a royal tax collector, abused his authority, extorting and plundering, causing widespread resentment among the populace! He has now been legally executed by the kingdom!”

Allen slowly lowered his eyelids, silently mourning his cheap old man for half a second in his heart.

‘Old man, you’ve… you’ve died again… Rest in peace.’

Charles’s voice continued without pause, carrying an undeniable tone of condemnation. “And you! As a noble, you have habitually oppressed the innocent and tarnished the reputation of the nobility!”

“Even more outrageously, you secretly colluded with cultists from the Crimson Spiral Order, attempting to murder the kingdom’s treasure—Miss Livia von Stern—tonight!”

“The evidence is conclusive! Royal Knights, seize this traitor and execute him on the spot!”

Upon hearing these words, Allen felt an absurd fury surge to his head, making his temples throb uncontrollably.

‘What kind of international joke is this?!

Conclusive evidence? Where’s the proof?

The Laval family was already dirt poor; his cheap old man, to send him to school (primarily so Allen could get free meals from the academy’s subsidies), would pinch every copper until it screamed, let alone extort anything?

As for himself, he had a blood feud with cultists (having died at their hands countless times in other cycles); colluding with them was utter nonsense!

This was a blatant, utterly unskilled frame-up!

However, Allen knew well that in this situation, attempting to use legal procedures to overturn the Crown Prince’s accusations was utterly futile.

The other party was Charles Durand, one of the heirs to the throne of the Kingdom of Lorraine!

When he decided to eliminate Allen, Allen, a struggling minor noble without even a formal title, was destined to have no escape.

Allen was not Livia, the formidable heroine; he couldn’t single-handedly take on the entire world.

He had originally planned to pack up some of the leftover delicacies after the graduation gala to bring back for his old man to savor.

But now, it seemed these exquisite foods would only serve as offerings for him and his father.

“Fine,” Allen raised his head, a twisted smile unique to villains playing on his lips, his plate of food still held steadily. “If His Highness says so, then it is so.”

“However…”

He gently tapped the edge of the plate with a silver fork, producing a crisp sound.

“Can I finish this last bit? After all, we shouldn’t waste food; the kingdom is currently experiencing a famine.”

With that, Allen unhurriedly forked a piece of roasted meat drizzled with sauce into his mouth, chewing it as if no one else were present, as if the Crown Prince hadn’t just announced his immediate execution, and he was merely an unlucky passerby watching a play.

‘If I’m going to die, it’s certainly happier to die with a full stomach.’

Allen’s comical appearance, still preoccupied with food even at death’s door, immediately drew snickers from the surrounding nobles.

The nobles cared not whether the Crown Prince’s pronouncement was legal or proper; in their eyes, the death of a universally despised good-for-nothing like Allen de Laval was well-deserved and warranted not an iota of sympathy.

At the thought of enjoying such a bloody spectacle as an execution tonight, these noble students, eager for any excitement, even began to cheer him on, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”

Livia’s gaze swept over the twisted, bloodthirsty faces of the spectators, contorted with excitement, and her beautiful brows furrowed slightly.

She disliked the nobles’ callous disregard for human life. Even if Allen were truly guilty, he should not be so hastily executed without trial.

With Livia’s current prestige in the kingdom, a single word from her could easily halt this atrocity. Yet, at this moment, she uncharacteristically chose to remain silent.

Livia had deviated from her usual unwavering sense of justice, for reasons so complex they bewildered even herself.

She harbored some vague, dream-like memories of Allen, despite having no public interaction with him at the academy over the past three years.

In those fragmented memories, whose origin she couldn’t pinpoint, Allen was a grim-faced ‘Deepwalker,’ his eyes burning with vengeful fire.

He was a high-ranking member of the Crimson Spiral Order, second only to their leader, the ‘Listener of the Stars.’

She had engaged in countless fierce battles with the Allen of her memories; his strength was in no way inferior to hers, and he had even once pushed her to the brink of despair.

The individuals capable of becoming her opponent, Livia’s opponent, and leaving such a profound impression on her, were few and far between.

These seemingly false, unfounded memories now appeared to be eerily confirmed.

Despite this supposedly being their first close encounter, Livia had instantly recognized Allen’s face the moment the Crown Prince burst in.

This was too bizarre!

Could it be that the Allen before her truly possessed some unknown dark magic, deleting her memories of him, but for some reason failed to erase them completely?

Livia’s heart was filled with hesitation. The Crown Prince claimed Allen colluded with the Crimson Spiral Order; perhaps… it wasn’t baseless after all?

Two Royal Knights, denying Allen the chance to die with a full stomach, immediately stepped forward, reaching for Allen’s shoulders.

The instant their cold armor was about to touch Allen’s clothes, an unexpected event occurred!

Allen, who moments ago had appeared resigned to his fate, suddenly raised his downcast eyes, his gaze turning fierce like a cornered beast fighting for its life!

He violently hurled the heavy silver plate in his hand, with all his might, at the left knight’s face!

Soup, meat chunks, and shattered ceramic fragments, mixed with red wine and sauce, splattered all over the knight’s face!

“Ah!” The left knight cried out in pain, instinctively closing his eyes and raising his arm to block, his movements momentarily freezing.

Capitalizing on this fleeting chaos and obstructed vision, Allen’s body sharply ducked. His right hand shot out like lightning, his fingers precisely latching onto the hilt of the longsword hanging at the right knight’s waist. With a forceful pull, he drew it!

“Swish!”

A flash of gleaming cold steel erupted under the ballroom’s lights!

There was no fancy swordsmanship in Allen’s movements, only the rawest, most lethal ferocity honed through hundreds of cycles of death and rebirth.

He swung the sword back, accurately and viciously slicing across the right knight’s throat, which was fully exposed and unguarded due to his astonishment.

Warm blood immediately gushed out like a fountain.

Simultaneously, Allen’s footwork shifted strangely; his left foot, like a battering ram, viciously kicked the side of the left knight’s knee, which was exposed due to his obstructed vision.

“Crack!”

The sound of bone fracturing clearly echoed, and the left knight let out a piercing scream, collapsing uncontrollably to the ground.

Allen twisted his wrist, and the longsword in his hand, whistling through the air, instantly pierced the knight’s heart, exposed as he bent over!

The entire sequence unfolded in a mere flash of lightning!

By the time the stunned onlookers reacted, two Royal Knights, skilled in combat, lay motionless in rapidly spreading pools of blood.

And Allen de Laval, whom they had just scorned as an incompetent good-for-nothing, now stood holding a blood-dripping longsword, his gaze coldly sweeping over his surroundings.

He exuded a terrifying malevolence, as if he had crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood from hell.

“What are you looking at? Never seen someone killed before?”

“Hiss—” A collective gasp of cold air swept through the entire hall.

Extreme astonishment froze on every noble student’s face. They screamed, scrambling backward, creating a wide enough death corridor between Allen and the Crown Prince.

Allen couldn’t be bothered with these fair-weather nobles. He extended his tongue, lightly licking the blood splashed near the corner of his mouth.

A腥咸 iron taste, mixed with a strange burning sensation, began to rage within him, stimulating every nerve.

As cunning as he was, he had long anticipated that tonight’s graduation gala would not proceed smoothly.

He had crushed the Crimson Spiral Order’s secret medicine, which he had previously snatched from that unlucky cultist, into a powder and cleverly concealed it in the food on his plate, preparing for the unexpected.

Just now, under the guise of ‘greedy eating,’ he had swallowed all the secret medicine mixed into his food.

At this moment, that forbidden medicinal power raged wildly through his veins, frantically draining his life force, yet also granting him fleeting but immense strength.

Death, to him, was already a common occurrence. Since lying down and letting himself be slaughtered also led nowhere, he might as well overturn the card table and go down fighting!

‘If you accuse me of being a cultist, then I’d better truly possess the terrifying combat power of one!’

As it turned out, he did.

In countless past cycles, Allen had always died ignominiously at the hands of nameless background characters who never even appeared in the original story.

He had finally, in endless agony, reflected deeply on his predicament.

Even a despised cannon fodder villain should possess a villain’s dignity!

If he had to die, he must die at the hands of a major character like Livia!

To this end, he had secretly honed his martial arts in unseen corners, learning various schools of killing techniques. Lacking a crest, which symbolized talent and glory, he could only rely on an superhuman iron will, diligently training through countless cycles of death.

After countless cycles, a unique sword style he had created, dubbed the ‘Villain’s Reincarnation Style,’ had been etched deep into his soul.

The core tenet of this sword style was extreme feigned weakness. He would make everyone believe he was an easily defeated minion, thereby causing them to completely drop their guard.

Then, at their most complacent moment, he would launch a desperate, life-for-life attack, aiming for a lethal effect that was unexpected and caught them unprepared.

The combat instincts and painful memories accumulated over countless death cycles finally ignited at this moment.

He might never defeat Livia, that cheat-like embodiment of destiny. But at the very least, he would make arrogant scoundrels like Crown Prince Charles pay a bloody price for their hubris!

“Protect His Highness!”

The remaining Royal Knights finally snapped out of their shock. They roared, drawing their longswords, forming a formation, and charging at Allen.

But Allen was faster! The power of the secret medicine surged through his veins, a tearing agony and explosive strength erupting simultaneously.

His figure weaved nimbly through the panicked, fleeing nobles, his longsword transforming into streaks of deadly, soul-reaping cold light.

There was no elegance or technique of noble lineage in his swordsmanship, only the ruthless and cunning brutality of a street brawl. Every swing of his sword carried the madness of a mutual annihilation!

Two more knights who attempted to intercept him were cut down on the spot in a life-for-a-wound exchange. He brutally carved a bloody path through the elite knights’ encirclement, covered in blood, appearing utterly deranged, his target set directly on Crown Prince Charles!

To reach the ballroom quickly, the Crown Prince and his personal guard had traveled light, without heavy plate armor.

Charles clearly had not anticipated that this Robe Noble trash, whom he viewed as an ant, could unleash such terrifying power and killing intent.

He certainly hadn’t expected that the opponent could, under the protection of the Royal Knights, instantly charge right in front of him.

Watching Allen’s bloodshot eyes, burning with insane killing intent, Charles’s princely composure vanished for the first time, replaced by a flicker of unconcealed astonishment.

But this astonishment was swiftly replaced by cold fury.

“Are you rebelling, you trash?!”

He bellowed, attempting to suppress the other with his status and authority, but his body instinctively retreated half a step.

“Charles Durand!” Allen’s voice carried a heavy scent of blood. “You sanctimonious, stinking dog!”

“It is you greedy, incompetent rulers who have driven the common people to the brink, yet you still dump all the blame on my family’s head?”

“My old man was a tax collector for three years, but he couldn’t collect a single copper coin of tax from those starving peasants who were chewing on tree bark! Where did this ‘extortion and plunder’ come from?”

“Today, I slay you as an act of divine justice! Go down now and kowtow to my old man and confess your sins!”

He had no intention of wasting more words. He pushed off the ground, launching himself at Charles like an arrow from a bow.

The longsword, snatched from the knight, condensed all his resentment and his rapidly burning life, transforming into a mournful flash of cold light, aimed directly at Charles’s heart!

The surrounding nobles erupted in even more terrified screams, and Charles’s face instantly drained of all color.

Just at this critical juncture, a pure white figure appeared before the Crown Prince as if by instantaneous movement, without a sound.

It was Livia!

She had not brought her ceremonial sword, a symbol of honor, tonight. She simply raised her fair right hand calmly, her five fingers elegantly splayed. In front of her palm, the air violently twisted, light refracting through it.

A translucent ‘Wind Sword,’ instantly condensed from invisible energy, materialized out of thin air.

This was the unique, potent power of her ‘Star Crest’; she had cleverly molded her Star Shield, originally used for defense, into the form of a sword.

“Clang—!”

Allen’s sword, infused with all his strength and burning with his dwindling life, slammed heavily into the seemingly ethereal Wind Sword!

The anticipated clash of metal did not occur. Instead, a dull, heart-stopping sound of energy collision resonated.

Allen felt as if he had struck an invisible, incredibly tough rubber! A tremendous shockwave traveled up the sword, splitting the skin between his thumb and forefinger, and the longsword nearly flew from his grasp!

In Livia’s clear, lake-like blue eyes, Allen’s ferocious, blood-stained face was sharply reflected.

A flicker of genuine surprise finally crossed her almost perfect face.

The strength, speed, and suicidal ferocity that this Robe Noble’s son, who had been virtually invisible for three years in the academy and regarded by all as a useless joke, now displayed, completely defied her understanding.

Allen’s fierce and resolute gaze at this moment almost perfectly overlapped with the ‘Deepwalker’ from her suddenly appearing, seemingly false memories!

But Livia’s surprise lasted less than a second before being replaced by her usual cold demeanor.

Her fair wrist gave a gentle flick, and the Wind Sword swept to the side, a tremendous force suddenly emanating.

Allen felt an irresistible whirlwind engulf him, sending him uncontrollably flying backward!

“Bang!”

Allen crashed heavily against the cold stone wall of the ballroom, letting out a muffled thud.

He felt as if his internal organs had shifted from the violent impact, and a sweet, warm gush surged up his throat.

With a gasp, he coughed up a large mouthful of fresh blood.

Crimson blood droplets, like tragic plum blossoms, splattered sparsely across the polished marble floor and the ornate walls.

“Cough, cough…”

Allen struggled, attempting to use his sword to support himself and rise, but every bone in his body ached as if shattered.

The secret medicine’s power still surged and tore within him, the extreme pain paradoxically keeping him from immediately losing consciousness.

He raised a hand to wipe the blood from his mouth, a wild smile spreading across his face.

He had seen it.

He had clearly seen that fleeting surprise in Livia’s eyes.

This gave him a morbid, twisted sense of satisfaction.

“Heh…”

Allen gasped violently, his laughter hoarse and faint.

“Good thing… the cult’s secret medicine… that kick… is really potent…”

Livia’s brow furrowed even deeper, involuntarily.

‘Cult? Secret medicine?’

‘Why would Allen de Laval have access to these forbidden entities hidden in the kingdom’s shadows?’

‘Could it be that the Crown Prince’s accusation… was not baseless?’

‘Did he really join that infamous Crimson Spiral Order?’

“Livia von Stern!”

Allen supported himself with the tip of his sword on the ground, shakily rising once more.

Blood continuously seeped from his mouth and nose, but the last flame in his eyes burned even brighter.

His voice was broken, carrying a chilling obsession.

“How… is it you again?”

His voice was broken, yet filled with a chilling obsession.

“Can’t you… just be merciful and let me go this once?”

“Or have you truly fallen for that refined scoundrel, the Crown Prince?”

Livia tightened her grip on the Wind Sword, starlight swirling around her, her voice frigid.

“You are indeed a cultist. If so, I will show no mercy.”

“Mercy?” Allen scoffed, as if he had heard the most preposterous joke in the world. “Did you ever have such a thing for me?!”

Before his words even finished, his figure surged forward once more!

This time, he held nothing back, pushing the remaining power of the secret medicine within him to its absolute limit.

His speed was even a fraction faster than before!

He transformed completely into a blurry, blood-colored afterimage, charging towards the white figure with an incredibly tragic, all-or-nothing momentum.

The longsword in his hand tore through the air, emitting a piercing shriek.

“Bang! Bang! Clang! Rip—!”

The two figures instantly intertwined in the horrified gazes of the onlookers, moving so fast they were dazzling, almost impossible to track.

Allen’s sword was like a furious storm, every strike poured with all his might, while Livia remained like an unmoving reef in the tempest.

Her figure was agile and ethereal, her footwork exquisitely precise.

The illusory Wind Sword in her hand always parried at the most accurate angle, deflected with the most ingenious force, and counterattacked at the most lethal moment.

An invisible barrier formed by starlight energy neutralized Allen’s fierce and violent offensives one by one.

Allen’s swordsmanship was indeed ferocious and sharp, carrying the desperation and resolve unique to a man with nothing left to lose. Yet, under Livia’s absolute power, extraordinary skill, and the merciless crushing force of her crest, it appeared clumsy and futile.

Every one of her movements was minimalistic, yet despairingly efficient.

Each parry was perfectly timed, as if she had already foreseen Allen’s attack trajectory, and every counterattack aimed directly at the minute flaws in Allen’s transitional moves.

The Wind Sword in her hand seemed to possess a life of its own, agile and versatile.

Allen’s wounds steadily increased, his tattered formal suit almost completely dyed dark red with blood.

He felt as though he was using his flesh and blood to futilely contend against an unshakeable, towering mountain.

Each clash of blades sent his qi and blood churning within him, and his sword-holding arm throbbed with aches.

The power from the secret medicine was rapidly fading.

That incredibly familiar, cold sensation of death began to slowly creep up from his feet once more.

“Clang—!”

A deafening, crisp sound suddenly ripped through the entire ballroom.

Allen’s snatched knight’s longsword, whose quality was already mediocre, finally let out a strained groan under the immense pressure of another violent collision with the Wind Sword.

Under the tremendous force, the blade shattered into pieces, and fragments of gleaming metal flew outwards in all directions like deadly locusts.

Allen completely lost his balance, his body staggering, uncontrollably falling forward.

Then, a foot clad in an exquisite white high heel, stepped firmly onto his back from above his head, pinning him tightly and humiliatingly to the cold marble floor.

Dust mixed with the heavy scent of blood rudely assaulted Allen’s nostrils.

“It’s over.”

Livia’s cool voice came from above, devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

Allen’s cheek was pressed tightly against the ground, feeling the biting cold of the floor and the burning heat of his own blood distinctly.

He gave up struggling, turning his face with difficulty, using the last vestiges of his peripheral vision to look up.

Silhouetted against the dazzling lights of the ballroom, Livia was looking down at him, her head slightly tilted. A few strands of her platinum-blonde hair fell casually, and her pure white lace gown remained spotless.

The way she stepped on his back was decisive and clean, filled with the absolute control of a victor over the vanquished.

From this utterly humiliating angle, she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

Her sternness and power made Allen vaguely recall his original motivation for playing ‘Starlight Serenade’—

From the very beginning, he had been captivated by the dazzling presence of the heroine, Livia.

It was precisely because of her that he had purchased ‘Starlight Serenade’, an otome game.

Although a grown man being obsessed with an otome game was certainly odd, why should one care about worldly opinions when loving a character?

However, fate had played an incredibly cruel joke on Allen.

That once beautiful game world had become an endless nightmare for Allen, an antagonist character.

After being personally killed by this formidable heroine hundreds of times, Allen’s initial affection for Livia had ultimately dwindled to bone-deep fear and hatred.

“For you, it’s over…” Allen’s voice was filled with endless weariness and sarcasm. “But for me… this is just the beginning.”

The gap between a useless villain and a cheat-powered heroine was indeed an insurmountable chasm.

After a brief, deathly silence, the ballroom erupted in fervent applause and cheers.

“Long live the Chief!”

“Miss Livia is amazing!”

“Truly worthy of the Stern family heir!”

The nobles, relieved survivors, excitedly shouted Livia’s name.

Crown Prince Charles Durand also quickly approached, his face displaying an appropriate concern and a lingering trace of fear. He looked at Livia.

“Miss Livia, are you unharmed? It’s thanks to your timely intervention.”

His gaze then swept over Allen, who lay on the ground like a dead dog, instantly turning to cold disgust.

“This dangerous traitor must be immediately executed as a warning…”

Allen lay on the ground, feeling his life force rapidly draining with his blood, listening to the Crown Prince’s hypocritical concern and cold condemnation, finding it utterly ironic.

Charles Durand was a highly controversial character in the original story.

He was ambitious, viewed all beings as pawns, and even his affection for the heroine was nothing but manipulative pretense.

It wasn’t until the moment before his death that he had a sudden realization: his entire life had been spent pursuing goals others had given him, and for that, he had lost all the happiness he could have inherently obtained.

Thinking of the Crown Prince’s route ending, and the destruction that this man and the corrupt system he represented would eventually face, Allen used his last ounce of strength to raise his head.

He bared his teeth, revealing a blood-stained, malicious smile, and roared in a hoarse voice:

“Charles Du-rand… you hypocrite! You always… only used her as a pawn!”

“You think… this is the end?”

“You treat everyone as pawns… but whether it’s you or anyone else… you’re all slaves to fate!”

“I don’t have… your cursed crest bloodline… I can be free…”

“And you… deserve to sink forever! Haha… hahahaha…”

Allen’s incisive revelation of his true nature utterly darkened Charles’s face; he no longer bothered to maintain even the slightest pretense of patience.

Killing intent blazed in his eyes. He violently drew the ceremonial sword from his waist, its gleaming tip pointed directly at Allen’s throat.

“You cultist madman! Still spreading heresy at death’s door!”

He tensed his arm, about to plunge the sword down with force.

“Wait!”

Livia suddenly spoke, her voice carrying a hint of urgency that even she didn’t detect.

She stepped in front of Charles, her clear blue eyes fixed on the dying Allen on the ground, a clear flicker of wavering within them.

“Allen de Laval! What did you mean by… cursed crest bloodline…?”

Whether noble or cultist, everyone in this world frantically sought the power of crests.

Yet Allen alone held such a disdainful and venomous view of crests, the very foundation of nobility.

Allen’s malicious smile at this moment once again perfectly overlapped with the image of the ‘Deepwalker’ deep within Livia’s memory.

What exactly had he experienced?

And what exactly did he know?

Allen’s consciousness began to blur, and an ominous darkness spread across the edges of his vision.

He was fading fast.

When a man is about to die, are his words good?

No, Allen felt only endless resentment. He resented this damned world, and even more, he resented Livia, the woman who had killed him time and again.

But looking at Livia, so utterly in the dark and so confident in her own power, he suddenly recalled the deepest and darkest ‘Demon Lord route’ from the original story.

In that route, Livia, who excessively pursued power and was ultimately consumed and driven mad by her own crest, would fall and become a world-destroying Demon Lord. Her Star Crest would no longer be sacred, but a beacon summoning terrifying entities.

Humanity was almost entirely slaughtered by her and her summoned creatures.

In the ending of the Demon Lord route, the surviving humans formed an extermination squad. After an incredibly brutal battle, they successfully wounded Livia, allowing her to briefly regain clarity from her madness.

Realizing the unforgivable, monstrous crimes she had committed, Livia personally destroyed her own crest, dying alone in a desperate situation of universal betrayal.

A twisted sense of satisfaction and revenge, like a poisonous vine, surged into his heart.

‘Anyway, next cycle… I’ll probably have to start all over again. So, this cycle, I’ll leave you an unforgettable ‘gift’.’

Allen used his last ounce of strength, forcing out a smile of extreme mockery, and spoke in broken sentences: “Crest… is not a blessing… it’s actually… an evil god’s… trap…”

Allen’s words abruptly ceased!

Just as he reached the most crucial part of his sentence, Livia, standing beside him, suddenly moved uncontrollably!

Her movements were lightning-fast, yet carried a strange stiffness and incoordination.

She suddenly reached out, and to everyone’s astonishment, snatched the gleaming ceremonial sword directly from Crown Prince Charles’s hand.

The next second, under the astonished, bewildered, and incredulous gazes of all present!

That longsword, symbolizing royal authority, was held tightly in Livia’s hands, and with a strange power, she viciously plunged it through Allen de Laval’s heart!

“Pfft—”

The dull sound of the blade piercing flesh echoed with chilling clarity in the silent hall.

Allen’s body violently trembled, his last words completely choked in his throat.

He stared with wide eyes at Livia’s beautiful face, so close, filled with shock and incomprehension, feeling the coldness and sharp pain emanating from his heart.

His lips moved silently.

A final thought, like a lightning bolt, flashed through his consciousness, which was about to plunge into eternal darkness:

‘Damn it, I was just making things up… why such a big reaction?

Could there really be a problem with your cheat…?’

The light in Allen de Laval’s eyes completely extinguished.

His head drooped powerlessly.

The evil young master, Allen de Laval, had solitarily met his nine hundred and ninety-ninth death.