"Hey."
The man didn’t move. Not even a flinch.
Razeal narrowed his eyes and followed the man’s gaze. The guy was staring at a single flower, its soft petals trembling under the mild breeze. It was as if that flower held the aning of life itself. Was he really that absorbed in it?
"Yooo, bro. Can you hear ?" Razeal asked, a bit louder this ti. He’d stopped caring about formalities or respectful tones. If soone was kind, they wouldn’t care about his tone. And if they weren’t, it didn’t matter anyway. This place wasn’t the kind where fear would save you.
Finally, the man stirred. He slowly tucked his long black hair behind his ear, the movent so calm it felt choreographed. Then, he lifted his head, eting Razeal’s gaze with a gentle smile.
"Ah," he said softly, his voice warm and flowing like a spring breeze. "You’re the guest."
His eyes were kind.. the kindest Razeal had seen in a long, long ti. They weren’t fake or distant. Just genuinely soft, like he had no malice left in him.
"Umm... yeah," Razeal said, blinking awkwardly. He felt strangely disard. This wasn’t what he expected from soone called Zenocide, one of the SSS-Rank villains.
The man stood up slowly, stretching just a little. He was taller than Razeal expected, maybe 6’3 or more. Loose pink robes hung from his fra, embroidered with intricate flower patterns. He looked like soone who belonged in a peaceful adow, not in a list of wanted war criminals.
"So you ca here to ask to teach you so skills or abilities, right?" the man asked, pointing directly at Razeal with a casual grin.
"That... is correct," Razeal said automatically.
So far, this was going unexpectedly well.
"Will you teach ?" he added, deciding to be direct. No sugar-coating this ti.
The man Zenocide chuckled lightly. "Well, that depends."
"Depends on what?"
Zenocide didn’t reply imdiately. Instead, he began walking around the hut. Razeal followed closely, still trying to wrap his head around this man’s vibe.
Behind the hut was a small wooden platform, clearly handmade. It could seat maybe two people at most. In front of it, two flower paths stretched out, side by side, reaching far into the horizon. One was lined with flawless white blossoms. The other, a serene sky blue.
"Here," Zenocide said, gesturing for him to sit. He sat down cross-legged on one side of the platform, eyes fixed forward.
Razeal took his place beside him, trying not to show impatience. Though inside, his patience was thinning. This guy was too slow, too relaxed. But he kept his frustration hidden. He didn’t want to risk pissing him off atleast not before he got sothing out of him.
"Why should I even give you anything?" Zenocide asked suddenly. His tone wasn’t confrontational more like he was genuinely curious. His gaze never left the flowers.
"What do you want, then? Just tell ," Razeal asked at last, his voice edged with impatience after failing to think of anything himself.
The man gave a short laugh, almost scoffing.
"Honestly? Even if I gave you that, you wouldn’t be able to do much with it." His words were blunt, not cruel, but spoken like undeniable fact.
Razeal’s eyes lifted, a flicker of sothing warm igniting in his chest. Wait... so he’s really going to give a skill? The man’s tone, casual as it was, didn’t feel dismissive—it felt almost inviting. A surge of confidence began to bloom in Razeal’s core. He doesn’t seem all that cold after all.
Razeal frowned. "Why not? Are you doubting my talent?
He coughed slightly, jabbing a finger toward himself.
"Believe when I say this whatever talent you have, mine’s greater. There’s no way my achievents will be below anyone’s. Don’t believe ? Then give any skill anything and I’ll prove it to you."
He didn’t miss the chance to speak boldly. Actually, he loved it this strange new freedom. Knowing he couldn’t die no matter how reckless he got gave him a weird, intoxicating kind of confidence.
The man only chuckled at that, his expression relaxed, like he’d just heard a joke.
"It was never about talent, boy." His voice turned quiet, yet heavy, carrying sothing ancient in it.
"Rember this it’s not talent that matters. The forbidden skills and dark arts If a person chooses this path, the only things they truly need are cruelty and relentless effort."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"Forget talent. The ladder to heights builds itself, step by step, for those willing to climb with bloody hands. Choose this path... and the rest will follow."
He spoke like a prophet passing down a sacred truth.
"Umm, that’s all fine with too," Razeal muttered with a half hearted shrug.
Zenocide just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Then he asked again, calm and direct.
"Why do you want power?"
Razeal blinked. "Huh?"
Zenocide turned to face him fully this ti, his expression unreadable. The casual calm was still there, but the smile had vanished.
"You ca here asking for a skill. I want to know what for. Why do you even want power in the first place?"
Razeal opened his mouth then stopped. He had an answer, kind of. But not the kind that ca out sounding clean.
"I just... wanna live," he said slowly. "Survive. And at least be able to stand up for myself. There’s gonna be a lot of fights ahead. So I know about. Most I probably don’t."
Zenocide watched him quietly for a second, then tilted his head. "You look desperate for it right now. Power, I an. Sothing going on?"
Razeal let out a slow breath, eyes drifting down to the flower in front of him. "Yeah. I’ve got a duel coming up. Few days from now."
"Will you win?"
"Yes," Razeal said imdiately.
Zenocide raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why do you look so anxious?"
Razeal sighed. "Because I’ll lose too."
That made Zenocide pause. He blinked once, then laughed under his breath. "You’re not making a lot of sense, my friend."
Razeal didn’t answer right away. His voice dropped lower. "It’s fine. Neither does the world."
Zenocide narrowed his eyes slightly. "Who’s your enemy?"
"The whole world," Razeal said without missing a beat. There was no anger in his tone. No drama. Just... the truth.
Zenocide stared at him for a long second, then raised both hands and put them on the sides of his face. "Ugh. That sounds botherso."
"It is," Razeal replied, still looking at the flower. "More than you think."
"I can imagine."
A brief silence followed, filled only by the soft rustling of wind-blown petals.
Then, out of nowhere, Zenocide spoke again.
"So are you serious about wanting to learn my skill?"
Razeal looked up. "Yeah. I am. And honestly, I’d be really grateful if you did teach ."
Zenocide looked at him for a long mont, then said, almost lazily, "It wouldn’t matter to if I gave it to you. But I don’t want to."
Razeal frowned slightly. "Why not?"
Zenocide shrugged, not in a mocking way just matter-of-fact. "Because if I give it to you, you’ll end up like . And trust ... that’s not sothing I’d wish on anyone."
Razeal tilted his head. "What kind of skill is it, exactly?"
Zenocide didn’t answer right away.
And... I don’t think you look bad. All in all, you seem fine. Honestly. I know soone as strong as you, and she was totally different. Looking at her, all I saw was loneliness and darkness. But you... you look colorful. Look at your surroundings. From any perspective, you don’t look like the villain you’re supposed to be."
There was a long pause.
Zenocide blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? She’s strong? Just like ? In this space?"
Razeal nodded. "Yes. You both are on the sa stage. Don’t ask how I know, just trust on this."
Zenocide looked genuinely stunned. "And here I thought I was being punished for the cris I’ve done. It’s... surprising soone else could reach my level. Very shocking, honestly. I can’t imagine what she might have done to get here."
Razeal gave a dry smile. He didn’t say it aloud, but the thought ran through his head: You’d lose your mind if you saw the sheer number of villains like you in the system’s database. SSS-rank is starting to feel like a club.
"So what’s your skill?" Razeal pressed. "Teach fast. Don’t worry, I won’t regret it. Oh and yeah, I can use dark mana now. Do you know anything about shadow elent? I have that too. It’d be cool if you could teach sothing about it."
Zenocide chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Well, no... I don’t have any magic or mana-related skills, actually. And as for shadow elent? Sorry, don’t know much about that either."
Razeal blinked. His expression twisted into a look that practically scread: Are you serious right now?
He stared at Zenocide like he’d just said the sky was green. An SSS-ranked boss villain, who lived in a place that looked like a dream, who talked like a monk, and he didn’t even have mana skills? Didn’t know anything about shadows?
Five long minutes passed in silence.
The wind swept across the fields of flowers.
A butterfly landed gently on the corner of the platform.
Razeal, still blinking, exhaled. "So... what do you have then?"
Zenocide just smiled again, eyes glinting with sothing unreadable. "Sothing you can’t learn from mana, elents, or power alone."
Razeal’s face twisted with disappointnt.
Zenocide gave a casual shrug. "You were expecting fireballs?"
Razeal didn’t even try to hide the scowl on his face. "I expected sothing. Not... ’I do push ups and grow flowers in exile.’"
At that, Zenocide let out a soft chuckle, placing a hand over his face as if trying to suppress the absurdity of the image. "No, no, no," he said through his grin, "It’s not that."
He stood up slowly, the laughter dying from his lips. His gaze locked onto Razeal with a cold, unblinking intensity.
"My superpower..." he said, voice dropping to a deadly calm, "is killing."
***
Five minutes later...
"Damn... that was fucking easy."
Razeal was now perched casually on a high tree branch, both legs dangling freely. He held two flowers one white, one blue in his hands, twirling them idly. His chest still rose with the aftershocks of a wild laugh, echoing through the forest.
But the flowers weren’t what made him laugh.
The true reason for his happiness
It was what he’d just gained.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host.]
[You have awakened a Supre Dao Inheritance from the Cultivation World.]
[The Killing Intent (SSS)]
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