Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

"You're already drowning, Noah."

You're already a monster.

Damien's words slithered through my mind like a parasite, digging inside my ear and into my brain.

He had always been like this, whispering truths I didn't want to face.

"You keep pretending you have a choice, that you can take your time, that you can play it safe. But this world isn't safe, Noah."

"You think the Author will wait for you to get strong at your own pace? That your enemies will just sit back and let you grow? No."

"They will keep coming.

Keep hunting.

Keep taking."

I knew that.

Of course I knew that.

But there was a part of me—a small, pathetic part—that still wanted to believe I could win without losing myself.

That I didn't have to consume souls.

That I didn't have to become the thing they all expected me to be.

The Fated Villain.

I clenched my fists.

Damien sighed, his tone almost disappointed.

"Fine. You want to play it your way? Then let me ask you this, Noah—what's your plan?"

I stayed silent.

"No, seriously. What's your plan? You've been killing assassins left and right, and yeah, it's been fun—"

"—but let's not pretend you've been doing it efficiently."

"You waste time. You waste resources."

"You take hits you don't need to take, you bleed when you don't need to bleed, and you let enemies live who could have made you stronger."

I gritted my teeth.

"Oh, but you're using Mana Drain, right?" Damien let out a mocking laugh. "Oh yes, good job, Noah! You're draining the scraps of your enemies and letting the real power go to waste!"

I felt my jaw tighten.

"All those souls, all that power, just slipping through your fingers. And for what? Some stupid sense of morality? Cowardice?"

"You know that's not true, Damien. Shut it already-"

"Or what? You'll keep pretending you can win like this?"

His voice sharpened.

"You've already crossed the line, Noah. There's no going back. You've already become a villain in their eyes. You might as well make it worth it."

I took a slow, deep breath, forcing my heartbeat to steady.

The air was thick down here.

I had not even realized when the scent of blood, piss, and death had started to cling at my skin.

The torches cast long, twitching shadows across the narrow walls.

My boots echoed against the cold stone as I continued downward.

Each step felt heavier.

Each breath felt sharper.

And Damien's voice…

It dug into my skull like a snake.

"Take the risk, Noah."

"Consume them."

"Or you'll never be strong enough to change your fate."

I let out a slow, shuddering sigh.

Damien wasn't wrong.

He was just an annoying, insufferable piece of shit, but he wasn't wrong.

I was too cautious, maybe.

Too careful.

I had been surviving.

But surviving wasn't winning.

If I wanted to do more than just exist…

I needed to be stronger. Faster. Smarter.

And the best way to do that…

Was right in front of me.

I came to a stop.

Ahead, the spiraling staircase opened into a massive underground chamber.

Before me, a long corridor stretched into the unknown, lined with iron doors on either side. Some were locked shut, while others hung open, revealing empty cells with rusted chains and decaying straw.

A prison.

And not just any prison.

A dungeon meant for torture.

The air seemed to be full of the scent of old pain.

Blood had been spilled here—so much of it that the walls seemed to have absorbed the suffering, whispering it back in the form of faint echoes.

I almost puked and had it not been the fact that it was so dark that almost nothing was visible, I was sure I would have died fighting in this spooky place.

"Oooh~ Now we're talking." Damien chuckled. "A good villain always needs a dungeon. Very classy."

I ignored him.

Something felt wrong.

I stepped forward cautiously, my fingers grazing the edge of my dagger.

My mana was still at zero, so I couldn't rely on spells that used my mana core.

After all, I was the one who had sacrificed it.

But my second skill—Mana Drain, would work just fine.

It didn't matter if my core was broken.

As long as my opponent had mana… I could take it.

I passed by the first few cells, glancing inside.

Empty.

The next one.

Empty.

The third.

A corpse.

My eyes narrowed.

The body was fresh.

Whoever had died here hadn't been rotting for long.

And that meant—

Someone else was still down here.

My fingers tightened around my dagger as I listened.

Silence.

But silence wasn't always empty.

Sometimes, it was watching.

Waiting.

I took another step—

And the moment I did, the air shifted.

A single whisper slithered through the corridor.

A voice.

A woman's.

Soft.

Broken.

"…help… me…"

My body tensed.

Damien hummed in amusement.

"Oho~ Now that's suspicious."

I agreed.

Nothing good ever came from voices in the dark.

But still…

I took another step forward.

The voice came again, weak and desperate.

"…please… help me…"

I exhaled slowly.

Then, without a word, I reached for the iron door before me—

And pushed it open.

The stench hit me first.

Blood.

Piss.

The overwhelming scent of pain.

And then—

The sight.

A woman was chained to the wall, her body covered in wounds, her once-beautiful robes now nothing but tattered rags soaked in crimson.

Her black eyes flickered open at the sound of my presence.

For a brief moment, hope shone in them.

A flickering light.

A plea for salvation.

I met her gaze—calm and unwavering.

"What do you do with someone broken due to years of mental abuse? My Little Villain?" Damien asked, his voice almost inviting, knowing full well that the woman in front of me had a weak soul.

I thought about Pixie, and her words continued ringing inside my head.

"You're always fighting so hard for everyone, Noah, but who's fighting for you?"

I smiled.

Not a kind smile.

Not a cruel one.

Just the smile of someone unbothered.

"Oh," I murmured, tilting my head as something crazy took over my mind.

"You're still alive?"

***