The Novel’s Antagonist: I walk the path of a Villain

"It has to be here," I muttered under my breath.

My eyes scanned the line of market stalls, each one shadier than the last. This one, though—it was different. Gloomier. It gave off an unsettling aura, like something was warning me to stay away.

I felt a strange creeping feeling, my mind kept telling me I didn't want to be here. However, I wasn't turning back. This was the first place where Ryan's presence felt this strong;

I took a step closer, hesitating at the threshold.

"….."

I studied the stall a bit longer, then reached for the door. My fingers brushed against the handle—

Huh?

A strange sensation crawled up my spine and my instincts flared. My grip tightened, then immediately released.

Slash!

Without a second thought, I manifested my sword from my meta-watch and cut the door clean in half. A sharp, metallic ring echoed as the severed wood tumbled to the ground.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"

A voice rang out, hoarse and filled with rage.

My eyes snapped to the source—a man who had been sitting off to the side, watching me for god knows how long. He had no mask, which was unusual for a place like this. His face was out in the open—thin, sickly, a walking corpse draped in skin. His sunken eyes and hollow cheeks made it look like life had been sucked right out of him.

BAM!

That didn't stop me from driving my foot into his groin.

A sickening wheeze escaped his lips as he went flying backward.

Shwoosh.

Someone passing by sidestepped him without even sparing a glance. The sickly man crashed into the ground and rolled to a stop.

He wasn't moving.

Was he dead? Maybe. But that was his own damn fault.

This was the black market. If you stuck your nose where it didn't belong, you didn't get to complain about what happened next. Everyone around knew the rules. No one batted an eye.

…Still.

Why did he look like that?

Why was he just sitting there, barely alive? A slave? Possibly.

I entered the stall.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I realized something.

This space—

It was different.

My eyes darted around. The inside of the stall was massive. The outside had been tiny—just a cramped little shack. But the moment I stepped in, it stretched into something far bigger. The work of spatial ruins, no doubt.

And whoever set this very one up…

They weren't just some run-of-the-mill mage.

This level of mastery—manipulating space this seamlessly—whoever did this had to be at least demi-god tier.

Creak.

I paused. My head turned to the side.

A clock.

Tick.Tock.Tick.Tock.

Something about it unsettled me.

I scanned the room. Shelves lined the walls, displaying an array of items, but my eyes locked onto one thing—mana cores.

Dozens of them.

No. More.

High-quality cores, neatly arranged.

But something felt off.

It wasn't just the space that was wrong.

It was everything.

"Ryan…"

I muttered his name, my heartbeat quickening.

A gnawing sense of unease settled in my gut.

"Ryan…"

I took a step forward.

Creak.

Why did everything in here feel like a trap waiting to spring?

Just what the hell are you doing here, Ryan?

"Kree~"

I froze. My head whipped around.

A crow.

Perched on the shelf, staring at me with its beady black eyes.

Where the hell did that come from?

I didn't see it when I walked in.

Its gaze was squarely fixed on me.

I didn't like it.

"Morayai Ezverez," I murmured.

"KREEEEEEEEE!"

The crow shrieked, its wings flapping wildly as it tried to flee.

Too late.

Bang!

A compressed air bullet punched through its skull, splattering blood against the shelves. The lifeless body hit the floor with a dull thud.

Silence.

I exhaled, then turned back toward the room.

Three doors stood before me.

"Hm…"

I should just try to sense him. That was the easiest way. But—

"What?"

I frowned.

I couldn't feel him.

No.

I couldn't feel anything.

Something in this place was messing with my senses, blocking me out completely.

My teeth clenched.

If Ryan came here for what I think he did…

I swear, I will make him pay.

Tsk.

No choice. I'd have to take a gamble.

I reached for the first door.

Creak.

I opened it.

Nothing.

And I mean—nothing.

Not darkness.

Not emptiness.

Just… nothing.

My breath hitched.

"What is this…?"

It wasn't a void. It wasn't a black abyss.

It was something else entirely—something I didn't even have words for.

Ryan couldn't be in there.

He couldn't be.

BAM!

I slammed the door shut, my heart pounding.

That left two more.

I turned to the next one.

Tsk.

With my senses compromised, I had no way of knowing what lay beyond.

So I left it to chance.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

I grabbed the left doorknob.

Creak.

I pushed it open.

And then—

"Haah!"

I barely had time to react.

A skeletal arm shot out, reaching for me.

Sching!

My sword cut through it in an instant.

Thud.

The severed limb hit the ground.

My eyes flicked to the door.

And what I saw—

A writhing mass of arms.

Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

Thin, frail, desperate.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

I staggered back.

The arms lunged.

I slashed, carving through them. Blood splattered across the floor, but—

They kept coming.

"Help me!"

"Please, I beg you!"

"AARGH!"

I flinched. The voices—screaming, pleading, clawing at me.

Then—

A force.

Something I had never felt before.

It pulled me forward.

"No!"

I slammed my sword into the ground, using it as an anchor.

But it was too strong.

The arms latched onto me, dragging me in.

"Let me go, dammit!"

I struggled, teeth gritted, but it was useless.

Grrrrrrr!

My sword carved through the stone floor as I was yanked closer—closer—

No.

NO.

"RYAN!"

His name tore from my lips as the door was about to swallow me whole—

Swoosh!

A small purple object shot past my shoulder.

It zipped straight through the door.

Then—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

An explosion.

The force yanking me halted instantly.

And the next thing I knew—

A hand grabbed mine.