Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

The deeper I went, the worse the smell became.

Blood, piss, and something else—something rotting.

I pressed forward, my boots clicking against the cold stone steps.

The passage was narrow and claustrophobic. Not that I had much problem with it, if anything; all this just made the little devil in my mind more chirpy.

Shadows stretched long and jagged, making the stairway feel like an endless maw, swallowing me whole.

"Ah, yes. Now this is what I call true villain ambiance!" Damien cooed in my ear as he seemed to be rating the green flames that occasionally flickered through the torches.

"The oppressive darkness, the reek of death, the eerie silence! This, my dear Noah, is how a villain's lair should be!"

"You were just complaining about underground hideouts five minutes ago-" I pointed out, but it seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

"Yes, well, I have changed my refined tastes. I am, after all, a flexible System."

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to respond.

The stairway spiraled downward, deeper than I had expected. It was only now that I truly realized—

Only the mission hall, where the bulletin board was placed, seemed to be above the surface level; everything else was a maze winding along these small pathways.

It was a buried fortress, stretching far below the surface.

No wonder so few people had ever seen the true inner workings of the Assassination Hall.

Everything up there—the halls, the training grounds, the reception—was just a front.

The true core of the Hall was down here.

"Ohhh, this is getting interesting~" Damien hummed. "I wonder what kind of delicious little secrets they've been hiding underground~"

His words weren't just for fun.

According to the information I had gathered from Damien, the me in the Book of Sin was supposed to join this evil organisation after I had a fight with the Assassination hall for killing my grandma.

And I knew full well that an organization of this scale didn't just rely on blades and shadows to maintain power.

They had connections.

They had history.

And more than that…

They had resources.

Which I planned to take for myself.

"Poor them," Damien reacted, "They would have never imagined that all this was happening only because you refuse to follow the quests given by the Author to the word." The system chuckled in its usual, sentient voice.

Even though a vein popped on my forehead as I reminisced back to how all this started, there was no sympathy for people like these.

People who killed for a living?

They deserved the most tragic deaths-

Anyways, focusing my consciousness inwards, I opened my Status Screen.

[Status]

Name: Noah D. Romero

Race: Human

Title: The Fated Villain

Strength: 91

Agility: 97

Mana: 0

Charm: 69

Soul Power: 371=> 380

Skills: Soul Siphoning [Lvl4], Mana Drain [Lvl3]

***

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of my status pressing on me.

I had power. Not enough, but more than before.

The Slave Body Refinement Technique had worked wonders on my physique. I had thought that months of not working out would make me weak, but it seemed that it needed very less energy sustain itself.

"Maybe because it a Slave Body Refinement technique ~" Damien joked, making my lips twitch in annoyance.

Well, it was worth it, though.

My strength had such a huge jump, more than any other attribute.

Killing all those assassins in the past 5 months was also one of the big reasons I had become stronger in such a short time.

More than anyone had expected me to have.

Even with a broken mana core, I was standing here—alive, breathing, and hunting my enemies in their own lair.

"You know…" Damien's voice slithered back into my mind. "You could be much stronger if you just had a little sip of a soul."

I stiffened.

"Not this again."

"Oh, come on, Noah~!" he whined. "You're wasting such a precious ability! Soul Siphoning isn't just for show, you know. It's—"

"Damien." I gritted my teeth, "I know that I fucked up once and consumed a soul way more stronger than me but that was just a lapse in judgement."

"Just a little taste," Damien continued, his voice turning a bit less sarcastic. "I know that I was the one to warn you, boy...But I didn't tell you to be a pussy-man. Your Mana Drain has leveled up to three, and it's almost about to reach four, but you weak-ass bitch hasn't consumed a single soul since the Batttle of Villo Greek."

Damien's words weren't just insults. They were too blunt.

I stopped in my tracks.

My fingers twitched slightly, but I clenched them into a fist.

"Shut up," I muttered, my voice low.

"Oh? Did I touch a nerve?" The sentient piece of shit chuckled, his tone dripping with mockery. "Come on, Noah. You're smart enough to understand this by now. Your enemy isn't just the assassins, the Hall, or the filthy nobles who want you dead."

He paused, then whispered—low and sharp.

"Your enemy is the Author."

My breath hitched.

"The one who created this world. The one who wrote out your destiny—a villain meant to suffer and die. You think you have time to take it slow? You think you can afford to be careful?"

My teeth pressed against each other.

I hated it.

I hated that he was right.

No matter how much I fought, no matter how many enemies I crushed beneath my feet…

The story itself was against me.

The moment I stopped moving forward, the moment I let myself hesitate—

Everything I loved would be taken.

Sylvie.

She had been taken once.

She would be taken again.

And next time, I might not be able to save her.

Damien's voice turned into a sneer. "You don't get it yet, do you? You think you're winning because you're still breathing? Because you've survived for a few extra months?"

"You think that means you're safe?"

A deep, hollow laugh echoed through my skull.

"How cute."

My nails dug into my palms.

"You don't get a happy ending, Noah. You don't get to live quietly and pretend that's enough. The moment you let your guard down—"

"They'll take everything from you."

His voice dropped to a near-growl.

"They'll make sure you lose. That's what this world was built for. That's what you were built for.

A villain.

A stepping stone.

A tragic little joke—"

"Shut. Up."

"No."

I exhaled harshly. My chest burned.

I knew all of this.

I knew it better than anyone.

But knowing something and accepting it were two different things.

Damien pushed further.

"Your problem isn't that you're weak, Noah."

"Your problem is that you're too afraid."

A cold chill crawled up my spine.

"Afraid of making the wrong choice. Afraid of the consequences. Afraid that you'll lose control again, like last time."

I stayed silent.

"But let me tell you something, boy."

His voice turned ice-cold.

"You're already drowning, Noah."

You're already a monster.

***