Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 257: The Great Lake

As Damien readied his sword, the world began to fade into black, leaving him unable to react.

One moment, Damien was standing in the humid, spore-choked jungle of the Abyss, his sword drawn against the encroaching shadows.

The next moment, he blinked.

The smell of rotting fungus and ozone was gone. Instead, the air smelled of stale dust, cheap beef flavoring, and mildew.

Damien looked down.

He wasn’t wearing his black trench coat. He wasn’t wearing the mask of zero,The heavy, reassuring weight of the Pantheon Sword was missing from his hip.

He was wearing a stained grey t-shirt and pajama bottoms. His hands were pale, thin, and trembling with cold.

He sat on a wobbly plastic chair in a small, cramped room. A fluorescent light flickered overhead with a maddening buzz-click-buzz.

Apartment Block 404.

On the cheap laminate table in front of him sat a cup of instant noodles, the steam rising in the frigid air. A cracked smartphone lay next to it, the screen dark.

"No..." a voice whispered. It wasn’t Isabelle. It wasn’t Elian.

It came from the old television in the corner, broadcasting static.

"Wake up, Lin Ye," the static hissed. "You’ve been asleep for so long."

Hearing this voice, Damien or rather Lin Ye stared at his hands. They were weak. No calluses from the sword.

No Celestial Life Physique not even his mana or aura core. Just the frail hands of a man who spent too much time typing and not enough time living.

The wind howled outside the thin window, rattling the glass.

"It was a good dream, wasn’t it?" the voice from the TV continued, sounding almost sympathetic.

"You were a King. You had power. You had friends. You had a purpose."

The walls of the apartment seemed to close in. The cold bit into his bones.

"But it’s over now. The heater broke days ago. You’re freezing to death, Lin Ye. The Abyss? The System? Just the firing synapses of a dying brain trying to comfort itself in the final moments."

The illusion was perfect. It attacked the one insecurity every transmigrator buried deep in their soul: What if none of this is real?

"Eat your noodles," the voice urged gently. "Let go. Close your eyes. It will be warm soon."

Damien looked at the noodles. He felt the phantom hunger in his stomach.

The despair of this room, the crushing loneliness of his old life weighed on him heavier than any gravity magic.

In a trance he picked up the plastic fork.

He stirred the noodles. Then, he stopped.

A small smile touched his lips.

"You did your research," Damien whispered to the empty room.

"The smell. The cold. Even the flickering light. It’s exactly how I remember it."

He dropped the fork.

"But you made one mistake."

The static on the TV paused. "Mistake?"

"You think I’m running from this," Damien gestured to the squalid apartment.

"You think this memory is my weakness. That I’m afraid to be Lin Ye again."

He stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"I’m not afraid."

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the frailness in his posture was gone. He stood with the arrogance of a Warlord, even in pajama pants.

"I faced this already," Damien said, his voice deepening. "Ever since that moment when I stood before the Tribunal of my own souls. Lin Ye. The Villain. Zero. We aren’t separate anymore."

He looked at the reflection in the dark window.

"I accepted the weakness of Lin Ye. I accepted the cruelty of the Villain. And I forged them into The me of today."

CRACK.

A spiderweb fracture appeared in the air in front of his face.

"You’re late," Damien scoffed. "I already conquered this nightmare."

"Sit down!" the TV screamed, the volume exploding. The walls of the apartment began to bleed black sludge.

"You are nothing! You are a and forever will be just a looser!"

"[Will Art: King’s Mantle]."

Damien stared calmly.

VOOOM.

A golden light erupted from his chest, tearing through the grey t-shirt.

On his face, the air shimmered and hardened.

The Visage of the Zero the sleek, black metal mask manifested out of thin air, clamping onto his face.

"I reject your reality," Damien’s voice became metallic and distorted.

He reached out and grabbed the empty air as if gripping a hilt.

"And I substitute my own."

SHING.

The Pantheon Sword materialized in his hand, glowing with blinding white light.

He swung.

Instantly without a hint of hesitation, he cut the whole room in half

CRASH.

The apartment shattered like a mirror dropped from a skyscraper. The beige walls, the cold noodles, the dying fridge, it all exploded into shards of light.

*BOOM!*

.......

GASSSSP.

Damien’s eyes snapped open.

He was back in the Abyss. The smell of spores was thick in his nose.

Next to him, Isabelle was on her knees, clawing at her throat, trapped in her own nightmare. Elian was curled in a ball, sobbing.

But Damien was awake.

In the center of the clearing, the massive root system of the Vein of the Earth shrieked. The illusion had been broken by sheer force of Will, causing a backlash on the caster.

SCREEEE!

The roots twisted and snapped. The corpses buried in the mud were pulled upward, fusing with vines, moss, and bark.

The Guardian of Layer 2 manifested physically.

It was a twenty-foot-tall Golem made of rotting wood and dead Drifters. It had no face, only a gaping maw of thorns.

"Isabelle!" Damien roared, his King’s Intent slamming into her mind to wake her up.

"Wake up! Burn the roots!"

Isabelle jolted awake, gasping. She saw the monster. Her instincts took over instantly.

"Yes, Master!"

She unleashed a torrent of Hellfire, aiming not at the monster, but at the base of the roots to cut off its mobility.

"Elian!" Damien shouted. "Where is the Core?"

Elian, shaking off the terror, pointed a trembling finger at the center of the Golem’s chest, where a cluster of blue spores pulsed.

"There! The Heart-Knot!"

"Got it."

Damien didn’t use the chains. This required precision.

He activated [Phantom Speed] and alfreds teleportaion simultantiously.

He blurred, dodging a massive wooden fist that smashed into the ground where he had just been standing.

He ran up the Golem’s arm, his boots finding traction on the rotting bark.

The Guardian shrieked, trying to shake him off. Spores exploded from its body, trying to induce hallucinations again.

"Does not work twice!" Damien growled.

His mask filtered the toxins. His Will hardened his mind.

He reached the chest.

The Pantheon Sword glowed with a coating of transparent, distorting energy.

[Will Art: Severance].

Condensing a large portion of his will, he severed the mana tying the Guardian to the Layer itself.

"Open the door."

SLASH.

He drove the blade deep into the blue spore cluster and ripped downward.

SPLAT.

Blue ichor exploded like a popped balloon.

The Golem froze. Then, it crumbled. The wood turned to ash, the corpses fell away, and the massive structure collapsed into a pile of compost.

RUMBLE...

The ground beneath the dead Guardian began to shake.

The massive root system withered rapidly, pulling apart to reveal a gaping, organic tunnel leading straight down into the darkness.

WHOOSH.

A blast of air shot up from the tunnel.

Damien sniffed the air.

It smelled of salt and brine.

And then, a geyser of water erupted from the hole, spraying them with cold, salty mist.

Damien wiped the water from his mask.

"Elian," Damien turned to the soaking wet Arch-Mage.

"You said Layer 3 was the Great Lake?"

"Yes," Elian coughed, wringing out his robes. "The entire layer... is underwater."

Damien looked at the dark tunnel, hearing the crashing of waves far below.

"Fantastic," Damien sighed. "I hate swimming."