The sky cried that day.
Rain poured in relentless sheets, drenching the earth and masking the tears of those too proud or too broken to weep. Black umbrellas dotted the cemetery like silent mourners. Among them stood a figure who didn't carry an umbrella, who didn't shield himself from the downpour. He let the rain hit his face as if punishing him—no, baptizing him—for what he was about to become.
Elior Caelum.
A name once praised in every corner of the Republic. The youngest S-rank hero. The Flame Sovereign. The beacon of hope.
Now? He was just a man at the funeral of everything he'd ever loved.
They said it was an accident.
That the dungeon break had caught the patrol team off guard. That the monsters had overwhelmed the outpost. That her death—Liana's death—was quick. Painless.
Elior knew better.
She had been his sister. His only family. The only person who had stayed by him when the world turned its back. She was the one who washed his wounds after battle, who reminded him to eat, to sleep, to laugh. And now, she was nothing but ash sealed in a cold silver urn—resting beneath a tombstone that read:
> Liana Caelum (Year 2203 - Year 2231) Beloved Sister. Brave Healer. Fallen Hero.
"Lies," Elior whispered, his voice barely audible through the rain and the lump in his throat. "All of it."
Because he had seen the records.
The patrol schedule had been changed last minute. Her deployment location switched without her consent. The team she was assigned to? All elites—except for her. A C-rank support mage in a Tier-4 dungeon.
It didn't make sense.
Unless someone wanted her dead.
He clenched his fists so hard, his nails broke skin. Blood mixed with the rain, dripping onto the wet grass beneath him. The umbrella-wielding mourners whispered, casting sidelong glances. But no one dared approach. Not even the high-ranking officials who had come to offer public condolences.
They had used her death as a political tool. A martyr to rally the masses. They had turned her into a symbol.
But Elior didn't want symbols.
He wanted the truth.
He wanted revenge.
That night, Elior sat in his apartment, alone.
The place was a mess—papers scattered, bottles broken, scorch marks blackening the walls. The aftermath of rage. A rage so profound it threatened to consume what little was left of his sanity. His eyes, once vibrant with hope and defiance, were now hollow. His heart, once full of conviction, felt like a battlefield littered with corpses.
He stared at the system window blinking in front of him.
> [System Update Available]
Classification Request: Do you wish to evolve your Hero Class?
Yes / No
He almost laughed.
The system—the very thing that had made him a hero—now asked if he wanted more power. A cruel joke. A machine without empathy.
He was about to click "No."
But then he saw it—something that hadn't been there before. A new option, grayed out… until now.
> [SSS Class – Villain System]
Warning: This path is irreversible. You will be branded an enemy of the Republic. Continue?
A chill ran down his spine.
This wasn't some glitch. It was an offer. A door opening into the abyss.
Elior didn't hesitate.
He pressed Yes.
The moment his finger touched the confirmation, the world changed.
The pain was indescribable.
It was as if his soul was being torn apart and stitched back together by something monstrous, ancient, and beyond comprehension. Symbols burned into his skin, vanishing just as quickly. His flame core shattered—and in its place, something darker pulsed.
> [Welcome, Elior Caelum.]
You have been chosen by the Villain System.
Path: Shadow Sovereign. SSS-Class.
Primary Objectives:
– Dismantle the Hero Authority.
– Uncover the Corruption Within.
– Punish the Unworthy.
– Reclaim What Was Stolen.
His breath was ragged. He fell to his knees, coughing up black smoke. His veins glowed purple for a moment before fading. The air around him shimmered as if reality itself rejected his presence.
And yet—he felt alive.
Not in the way he did when he rescued civilians or fought monsters. This was different. This was purpose forged in pain. A rebirth born of betrayal.
The Hero System had given him strength. The Villain System gave him truth.
The next day, Elior disappeared.
Officially, he was reported dead—killed in a solo dungeon dive gone wrong. The Republic held a ceremony, complete with parades and commemorative speeches. His name was etched into the Hall of Valor, next to those who had given their lives for the nation.
But Elior was very much alive.
And he had a list.
The first name was Commander Rhys Valen.
Head of Operations. The one who had signed Liana's deployment. He was loved by the public—charismatic, strong, a 'pillar of justice.' But Elior knew the truth.
He waited until midnight.
Rhys lived in a penthouse in Skyspire Tower, guarded by elite drones and a private security detail. It would have been suicide for anyone else.
Elior walked through the front doors.
The guards never saw him. Shadows wrapped around him like loyal wolves, silent and hungry. Cameras blinked and died. Doors unlocked with a whisper. By the time he reached the top floor, not a single alarm had been triggered.
Rhys was in his study, sipping aged whiskey and watching the news. When Elior stepped inside, the older man didn't even look surprised.
"I wondered how long it would take you," Rhys said, voice calm.
"Why did you do it?" Elior asked.
"Because she knew. About Project Revenant."
Elior's eyes narrowed.
"She found traces. She was getting too close," Rhys continued, pouring himself another glass. "We couldn't allow that."
"You used her."
"I did what had to be done."
There was no trial. No heroic speech. No hesitation.
Elior raised his hand, and a black flame engulfed Rhys.
Not a scream. Not a sound.
Just ashes.
As he stepped back into the night, Elior felt something shift.
> [Villain System Notice]
Objective Progressed: 1/100 Targets Eliminated.
You have gained +1 Skill: Black Inferno.
Title Unlocked: The First Flame of Vengeance
He looked at his reflection in a broken window.
Eyes like molten violet. Hair tinged with shadow. A face no longer recognized by the world.
He wasn't their hero anymore.
He was their reckoning.