The sky bled crimson that evening.
It wasn't natural.
Even the birds had fallen silent. Even the winds whispered in reverse. Something ancient had stirred—far from the cities, far from the sects, in a forbidden place called the Cursed Hollow.
No one dared speak of it.
No maps marked it.
No clans claimed it.
But Priyanshu Yadav knew it well.
Because decades ago—before he ever woke in this world—his system had whispered of it.
[Hidden Origin Site Detected: Location of the Forgotten Sin]
[Classified Thread: Not Yet Unlocked]
Until now.
Now the system pulsed with a single message.
[Go.]
So he went.
—
He stood on the edge of the Hollow, wearing a hooded cloak stitched from beast-silk, his aura completely suppressed.
Before him stretched a land where even shadows refused to settle. The trees bent inward, twisted into clawed arches. The earth was cracked like old skin. Strange statues lined the path—warped figures that seemed half-human, half-nightmare.
Priyanshu stepped forward.
Each footfall awakened an echo.
But not around him—inside him.
Memories that weren't his.
Blood that wasn't spilled by his hands.
Screams that had no origin.
He reached the heart of the Hollow after a full day's silent journey.
There, buried in the center of a black lotus field, stood a mirror.
It wasn't carved from glass, but from something darker.
Obsidian laced with crimson veins.
And it moved.
Not in reflection—but in response.
When Priyanshu stepped before it, his face didn't appear.
Instead, he saw… himself.
But not quite.
This version of him was unmasked.
Eyes like abyssal stars. A smile that curved like a blade. And behind him—thousands kneeling, a world on fire, and him seated on a throne of bones and silk.
The system buzzed violently.
[Accessing Forbidden Thread: The Unborn King]
[Thread Unlocked]
[You have encountered a fragment of your own true self]
[You have now qualified for the next evolution of the Hidden Villain System]
Priyanshu's heart did not race.
But it slowed.
Because he felt something deeper awaken.
Not power.
Not bloodlust.
But certainty.
He wasn't creating an empire.
He wasn't just ruling from the shadows.
He was remembering.
Remembering what he once was.
What he once destroyed.
The mirror spoke.
Not aloud. But within.
"You wear masks, child. But you were born with none. You were meant to be seen."
He whispered back, lips barely moving.
"No. I was meant to be felt."
The obsidian surface cracked slightly, and black smoke seeped through the break.
A single lotus petal fell from the mirror's edge.
It turned to ash before it touched the ground.
And then came the reward.
[System Upgrade Complete]
[New System Name: The Unseen Sovereign Protocol]
[Functions Unlocked:]
Shadow Seed Implantation
Puppet Personality Division
Narrative Manipulation
Memory Weaving (Advanced)
Reality Rewrite: Localized
Throne of Nullification: Pending
He stood silently as these changes etched themselves into his soul.
Not even the wind dared speak now.
—
Elsewhere, deep in the capital, the Grand Oracle suddenly gasped mid-meditation. Blood trickled from her mouth. Her visions had stopped.
For the first time in centuries…
The stars refused to show her anything.
—
Back in the Hollow, Priyanshu turned away from the shattered mirror.
He didn't need it anymore.
He had seen the future.
And more terrifyingly…
He had recognized it.
—
When he returned to the Dark Heaven Society's base, he didn't speak for three days.
He simply sat on his black throne, fingers steepled, watching the flickering screens of spiritual projections, showing the entire continent's movements.
Anaya grew tense.
Zhao Miya meditated longer.
Even Arthas stopped joking.
Something had changed.
It wasn't that Priyanshu had grown colder.
It was that now, he seemed…
Still.
Still in the way that oceans are before they swallow islands.
Still in the way that storms pause just before ripping heaven apart.
—
On the fourth day, he summoned them.
And spoke just one line.
"Prepare for war."
Anaya frowned. "With who?"
He looked at her, calmly.
"With belief."
They didn't understand.
So he showed them.
—
He raised his hand, and dozens of scenes began playing in mid-air like spectral illusions.
A hero saving a child from bandits.
A sect master handing his entire fortune to feed refugees.
A saint sacrificing himself for the realm.
All faked.
All scripted.
All orchestrated by Priyanshu's newly unlocked Narrative Manipulation.
He wasn't just influencing events now.
He was rewriting how the world saw those events.
Every puppet hero became more than just a tool—they became legends.
Priyanshu began editing truth itself.
He didn't kill villains anymore.
He turned them into cautionary tales.
He didn't defeat heroes.
He rewrote their legacies into lies.
The people wouldn't even realize they were praising puppets.
Because in stories, perception was stronger than truth.
And Priyanshu was now the storyteller.
—
But there was one who remained unswayed.
Eira.
She had sent no letters.
Asked no questions.
But he knew she was watching.
From the snowy peaks of the Glacial Spirit Pavilion, she gazed south every night, remembering his words.
"Would you destroy your own home to save it?"
She didn't trust him.
But she couldn't hate him either.
And that was more dangerous than love.
Because if she came seeking answers…
She might find them.
And if she found the truth…
She might become his first rival.
—
That night, as Priyanshu stood alone on the roof of the base, gazing at the moon, the system gave him one last alert.
[The world has begun to bend]
[But something—someone—refuses to bow]
[Do you wish to confront the anomaly?]
He smiled.
"Not yet."
He looked up at the stars.
"They'll come to me eventually."
Because that was the truth no one understood.
He didn't chase power.
He simply stood still.
And let the world slide into his palm, one step at a time.