The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 101

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 101

The Curse that burrowed into Choi Jun-ho’s body and mind was formidable.
For any ordinary Superhuman, it would have been enough to entangle them completely, to bind them under its influence.
But Choi Jun-ho’s situation was different.
The Mental Barrier he had constructed, the dense wall of Force that emanated from him—left no gap for the Curse to penetrate.
Even the Disgust that had shattered Tsuyoshi’s Immovable Heart failed to take hold.
But the moment Negative activated, a portion of the Curse succeeded in breaching the wall.
What took hold of the defense was Man Dok Bul Chim.
Man Dok Bul Chim wavered in thought.
The nature of this Curse was to exert a powerful negative influence on the mind—it could inflict serious damage to the master’s psyche.
If he weren’t careful, the damage could be severe.
It was a formidable Curse, one capable of warping personality itself.
But then—
The point at which Man Dok Bul Chim’s hesitation deepened was this:

[What more damage could be done to his mind……?]

The master’s mental state, as Man Dok Bul Chim diagnosed it, was grave.
And that diagnosis led to a troubling thought.

[If the Curse warps his personality, wouldn’t that be……better?]

There was nothing worse left to break.
Since taking root in the master’s body, Man Dok Bul Chim had attempted to correct the twisted mind, only to be forcibly suppressed—yet the doubt remained.
The master’s mind was abnormal. It was warped from its foundation. The conviction that this needed to be corrected had not wavered.
But the master’s strength was overwhelming. Alone, he was insufficient.
Yet if he allied his power with the Curse, the situation would change. If he aided the Curse in the vanguard, allowing the master’s true mind to surface again—wouldn’t that be good for the master?
And so he began to move, joining forces with the Curse to restore the master’s mind.
He wished only that the master might become whole again.
This was Man Dok Bul Chim’s sole desire.
Allied with the Curse’s strength, they succeeded in breaching the Mental Barrier—if only briefly—and entered within.
Just as he thought that only the warped structure needed correction, a personality that had never once risen to the surface emerged.
A mind openly, blatantly twisted.
It was the master, yet not the master.
He could sense the master’s scent, yet why did it feel so utterly different?
This thing, stained red like blood, was just as mad.
This mind would have to be restored to what it was.

[No. It’s trying to seize control of the master’s body.]

Just as Man Dok Bul Chim moved to counterattack, confusion seized him entirely.

[…This is wrong.]

There was no way to tell which was the sound mind.
The master’s original mind was warped, and this one was openly twisted.
…He could not judge which was better.
If all were abnormal, then all were abnormal; if any could be accepted, both could be accepted.
Perhaps.
Perhaps this twisted mind’s emergence wasn’t madness breaking through—merely a different nature surfacing?
If that were so, did it truly need to be changed?
Or should it simply be left as it was?
As Man Dok Bul Chim fell into confusion, unable to move either way—

—Hey.

A voice echoing from within.
It was his master’s voice.
Man Dok Bul Chim trembled violently without realizing it.
How was his master speaking to him?
What should he do? Should he ignore it and stay silent?

—I know you’re listening. Aren’t you going to answer?

Man Dok Bul Chim answered through trembling.
He felt as though his master’s form shimmered just before him.

—Shall we work?
[……!]

That was the extent of his master’s warning.
Man Dok Bul Chim could not refuse his master’s command.
Right—they were both twisted anyway. He would restore his true master and seize the opportunity.
From that moment on, Man Dok Bul Chim did his utmost to win his master’s recognition, dissipating the curse’s aftermath and driving out the personality that had seized the body in his master’s place.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he assisted from the sidelines.
Even without him, his master already possessed the ability to resolve the curse.
…Could such a master even exist?
Man Dok Bul Chim came to realize that even without his existence, his master could reclaim control.
Still, he had done his part faithfully.
Surely that proved his loyalty?

—Man Dok.

His master called him in a low voice before reclaiming physical control.
But that wasn’t his real name.
Yet he could not voice his complaint. It was a delusion to think he’d be forgiven over something so trivial.

—Do well, understand?

Man Dok Bul Chim desperately assented, understanding perfectly.

—I’m watching.

With that, his master departed to reclaim control.
Man Dok Bul Chim felt relief wash over him.

* * *

Constantina confirmed that her curse had taken hold.
Negative, a curse constructed from a Superhuman’s blood and heart, was inescapable even for a top-tier Superhuman user.
This Gift, which amalgamated all manner of negative emotions and temporarily drove them to frenzy, carried the power to shatter the self.
But.
That had been a mistake.

“Ah, ah…….”

Tears streamed endlessly down Constantina’s face as she beheld the spectacle before her.
The League Branch was burning—all of it.
What spread before her eyes was Hell itself.
There was nothing she could do within it.
Because Constantina lay on the ground with all four limbs severed.
All she could manage was to writhe like a worm.
The Superhuman who had crossed into Japan with her had long since had his limbs severed by Choi Jun-ho and died from massive blood loss.

“How beautiful—watching you struggle desperately like a worm. The more you flail, the redder the floor becomes with blood. It’s my favorite sight. The weak must be treated like this so they understand what mistake they made. Of course, there will be no next chance.”

Choi Jun-ho—or rather, Blood Type—gazed upon the landscape he had wrought and laughed. His eyes, which had blazed with explosive intensity like someone admiring a work of art, now held a quiet, penetrating gleam.
A chill ran down her spine.
How could such a deranged Villain have revealed himself?
There was no one else to blame.
It was she who had summoned this madman into being.
Satisfied with his contemplation of the carnage, Blood Type turned his gaze toward Constantina.

“How do you like it? You must be pleased. I’m being generous, putting on such a fine show for you.”

He laughed softly, as though no answer were required.

…….

This was mockery. Contempt for the weak.
Argos had been right. This man was a Villain.
Argos, Black Hound, Hell Master—they had borne the stigma of being Villains, moving against the existing order, clashing to establish a new one, all driven by conviction to reshape the world.
Though their essence was that of Villains, they carried a greater purpose: a world where Awakened Ones could live free.
But this one was different.
A Villain who had emerged only to trample and destroy everything—and that destruction was carried out purely for his own gratification.
Before such a vast, primal malice, Constantina could do nothing.
Stripped of every means of resistance, she could only watch as the League Branch dissolved.
Before Blood Type’s Blade Storm, the Villains of the League were torn to shreds.
Then, dissatisfied, he furrowed his brow.

“This Gift is efficient, but it lacks finesse.”

Somehow, she had to survive. She had to live and expose what this man truly was.
Constantina lowered her eyes. She adjusted her breathing to be shallow and barely audible.
It was a gesture of complete submission. Survival demanded it.

“You.”
“Yes?”
“What do you think of my artwork?”
“Your… your power is absolutely overwhelming. I now understand how foolish it was of me to resist someone like you.”
“Is that so? You’re perceptive.”
“Yes, sir. Please scold this hopelessly foolish woman.”

Constantina desperately appeased him, fighting for her life. She would lick his boots if he asked, would bark if he commanded.
Blood Type, still smirking, turned his gaze to the Villains he had just killed.
The cruelty in him lay in this: he had controlled the force of his Blade Storm deliberately, maximizing the suffering inflicted upon his prey.
The result was that the Villains, torn to strips, did not die quickly—they became rags, bleeding out slowly. Death came from hemorrhagic shock.
There was more of them dead than alive.
Watching the scene, Blood Type clicked his tongue.

“After all this time out, and this is all I get? Not even a decent amusement. Would’ve been better to do this in front of League Headquarters.”

Without restraint, he unleashed another Blade Storm, and the corpse caught in the Force tore apart anew.

“Ah, ahhh……!”

Constantina shuddered. She had killed countless people herself, but this was different. This was genuine joy in the act of killing itself.
Look at him now—licking the blood spattered across his face, laughing with delight.
Blood Type’s gaze shifted back to Constantina.

“You want to live?”
“P-please, spare me.”
“I want to show that creature who resisted me what became of her. Then they’ll fear me more, and they won’t dare approach.”
“Then…….”
“I’ll let you live.”

Hope glimmered in Constantina’s eyes.
I can survive. I have to get out of here and tell them. After that, what happens to me doesn’t matter.
The moment their eyes met, the Blood Type’s lips curled into a smile.

“Just kidding.”
“Wha—”

Constantina’s head separated cleanly from her body. Her eyes wide with shock, she couldn’t accept her own death even as it came.

“Ah, that’s good.”

The Blood Type’s eyes narrowed with pleasure.
The taste of blood after so long was intoxicatingly sweet. The crimson landscape that the metallic scent of blood brought was the color of life, and what darkened to deep red was the color of endings.
A brief time, but enough to savor.

“Stop whining. We’ll see each other again next time.”

The crimson light that had burned in the Blood Type’s eyes gradually faded.
A brief outing after so long.
Absurdly short for enjoyment, but it didn’t matter.
Just by imprinting my existence, I’ve carved a deep wound into Jun-ho’s mind.

“And.”

The Blood Type spoke in a muffled laugh.

“You’re more insane than me.”

With those words, the crimson light vanished without a trace.

* * *

When I returned to my senses, the scene before me was a field of carnage and blood.
A horror too terrible to witness with open eyes, yet I absorbed every detail of it.
No matter how much I resist, I cannot deny that this catastrophe was born from my own hands.
It’s a familiar sight. A landscape I saw countless times in my past life.
The Blood Type.

“So it never disappeared.”

I’d thought it might have vanished when I came back to the past. The Blood Type was a remnant of the past, after all. But now it was clear that was only what I hoped for.
Looking down, I saw Constantina’s face, her eyes wide in death.
She’d been toyed with until the very end. That’s what he is.
A twisted self born to become a Villain. I didn’t want to face it, but it’s finally shown itself.
A sense of danger washed over me—the threat of losing my mind again.
No. This time is different. In my past life, he took everything from me without giving me a moment to resist. But in this life, I hold the reins.
The Blood Type only broke through because Constantina had activated a Curse as her life’s work, and Man Dok Bul Chim underwent a breakthrough. That was all.
The fact that I’ve reclaimed control shows that the situation has fundamentally changed.

“I just need to make sure Man Dok educates him properly.”

I’ve confirmed that Man Dok Bul Chim has a consciousness of its own, so I can proceed step by step.
He wavered and briefly ceded control to the Blood Type, but that itself showed me just how formidable a Gift this is.
Now was the time to decide how to handle Man Dok Bul Chim going forward.
Behind me, I sensed someone approaching stealthily.

Slash!

I dodged the blade aimed at my neck with ease and seized the shoulder of whoever came charging at me.

Crack!

“Gah!”

His shoulder caved inward with a sickening crunch, a scream tearing from his throat. As he stumbled backward in panic, I pressed the advantage without mercy, swinging Nuri in a vicious arc.
The Blade Storm flared out like lightning—he weathered the first strike, but the Force Blades cascaded down in relentless waves, and his limbs were severed clean away.

“Arraaagh!”

I hadn’t meant to take his limbs like that.
This was how the Blood Type operated.
Without meaning to, his muscle memory had seeped into me like an echo.
I approached the thrashing figure on the ground to finish him, then paused, tilting my head.

“Where do I know that face?”

We’d never met face-to-face, yet something about him felt familiar. I wondered if it mattered, and then it clicked.
It was a face the Cabinet had asked me to capture alive if I ever spotted him.
A Superhuman from Japan who’d defected to the League—they called his Epithet Hwan-wol, if I recalled correctly. His approach had always seemed deliberately concealed.
I’d never given much thought to killing or sparing anyone, but since the Blood Type had already torn through him like this, I decided to show mercy.
If I killed him here, there’d be little to distinguish me from the Blood Type.
Even without his limbs, if I brought him in alive, the Japanese Cabinet would pay handsomely, wouldn’t they?
It’s a shame that Lee Se-hee hasn’t finished synthesizing that Limb Restoration Potion I commissioned.

“Heal.”

I pulled out a Recovery Potion and poured it over him.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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