Chapter 190 I Will Make Your Life A Living Hell



Villain Ch 190. I Will Make Your Life A Living Hell

Those words gripped Yora's heart. Her voice trembled with a mixture of fear and confusion as she mustered the courage to question the emperor's motives. The overwhelming sense of dread coiled tightly in her chest as she sought to understand why she had become the primary target of the emperor's relentless pursuit. This marked the third instance in which she found herself in the crosshairs of his malevolence, and the inexplicable nature of it all only deepened her unease.

"Why me?" she managed to utter, her voice faltering with uncertainty. "Out of all the players, why have you singled me out?" The words spilled forth, desperate for an answer that would shed light on the dark intentions driving the emperor's relentless pursuit.

Reflecting on the past encounters, Yora pieced together the fragmented puzzle. In the first instance, because she helped Mac. It had drawn the emperor's attention. The second encounter, a direct assault on the emperor, was expected to invite retaliation. However, she used her invisible stone. Yet, he had still found her. And now, this third encounter, where she had deliberately positioned herself at the backlines, away from the fray, only to find herself ensnared once more.

The enigma gnawed at Yora's mind, twisting her thoughts into a tangle of uncertainty. There had to be a reason, a method to the emperor's madness. Was it a calculated vendetta, a personal grudge against her? Or perhaps there was something more profound at play, an intricate plot concealed within the depths of the game's mechanics.

Yora's disbelief mingled with her instinct as she confronted the emperor with her perplexing observations. It was as if a spark of intuition told her that there was more to his motivations than a mere game mechanic or an artificial intelligence algorithm. She couldn't shake the sense that behind the emperor's ruthless actions lay a personal vendetta, a player harboring deep-seated resentment against them.

Allen had anticipated this question would eventually arise. He had devised an explanation, one rooted in logical reasoning and reminiscent of advanced artificial intelligence learning capabilities.

"I was created to dismantle and obliterate the strongest guilds and players, to sow chaos and destruction across this world," the emperor explained, his tone laced with chilling resolve. "Each resistance, every battle you offer me, becomes a lesson, an opportunity for me to grow stronger."

Yora's mind swirled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, the emperor's reasoning appeared sound, aligning with the mechanics of the game and its narrative. Yet, his gaze betrayed a depth of emotion that seemed incongruous with his role as the antagonist. Behind the veneer of anger and power, she detected a glimmer of pain, a flicker of a wounded soul.

"Is that truly the whole story?" Yora challenged, her voice laden with disbelief. Fear and curiosity mingled within her, compelling her to delve deeper. "Why do I sense your pain, hidden within your gaze? What has afflicted you? What has caused you such suffering?"

Allen, taken aback by Yora's perceptiveness, felt a mix of surprise and irritation. He had not anticipated her to delve so deeply into his hidden pain, but then again, they had shared a close bond during their time together two years ago. It unsettled him, provoking a surge of anger within him.

"You!" he seethed, his grip on Yora's neck tightening in a fit of rage. The desire to prolong their twisted game wavered in his mind, replaced by a newfound urge to quell her probing questions. "It's your pity-filled gaze that wounds me!" In a swift motion, he unleashed his Soul Siphon ability, attempting to drain her life force.

However, once again, an unexpected interruption disrupted his action. Arrows whizzed through the air, accompanied by thunderous spells, aimed directly at him. Allen barely spared them a glance, his focus remaining fixed on Yora.

With a flick of his free hand, he conjured black lances, countering the onslaught effortlessly. The arrows and spells shattered against his attack, unable to penetrate his unwavering resolve. Despite the distraction, he maintained his tight grip around Yora's neck, refusing to release his hold.

Mac, Greg, and Player_Eater, battered and wounded from their previous encounters, refused to back down. The taste of vengeance coursed through their veins, fueling their determination to bring down Allen. Though they were weakened, they had managed to consume healing potions to replenish their health to some extent.

As they launched their coordinated assault, their weapons gleaming with renewed vigor, they prepared to strike Allen with all their might. But just as their blades and spells were about to connect, the unexpected occurred.

With a sinister grin, Allen swiftly released his grip on Yora's neck, sending her frail body hurtling toward Mac and the others. Caught off guard, they instinctively shifted their focus from attacking Allen to saving their fallen comrade. Abandoning their offensive maneuvers, they reached out, their arms outstretched to catch Yora's limp form before it crashed to the ground.

Their hearts sank as they held her delicate body in their arms, the weight of her injuries evident. Blood stained her once pristine robe, and her breathing was shallow and weak. Mac's hands trembled as he cradled her, his eyes filled with a mix of anguish and determination.

"Yora... hang in there," he whispered, his voice laced with desperation.

Seeing Yora's pitiful condition, Greg and Player_Eater were overcome by a tidal wave of anger and despair. Their eyes burned with a fiery determination as they turned to face Allen, the embodiment of their torment and the cause of Yora's suffering. Ignoring the throbbing pain from their wounds, they charged at him, their weapons poised to strike.

Meanwhile, Mac held Yora's weak body close to him, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands trembled with a mixture of fear and determination. With urgency in his voice, Mac reached into his inventory and retrieved a small vial of Mana potion. "Here, Yora," he said, his voice laced with worry. "Drink this."

Yora, her face pale and filled with pain, weakly opened her eyes and locked her gaze with Mac's. She mustered a faint smile, a glimmer of determination shining through her agony. Taking the potion from him, she mustered all her strength to drink it, hoping it would grant her a temporary boost to endure the battle that raged around them.

Just as the liquid coursed through her veins, invigorating her depleted Mana, a sinister presence loomed behind her. Ignoring the rest of Mac's team, Allen, using his Shadow Walk, reappeared with a cold smirk plastered on his face. His eyes glinted with sadistic delight as he prepared to strike once again. His claw was poised for the kill.

Before she could react, his demonic claw pierced her body with brutal precision.