In Antagonia, a realm cast in perpetual dusk where even shadows harbored daggers, the atmosphere was an intoxicating brew of dread and unquenchable ambition.

Towers of dark stone reached for a sky permanently awash in twilight hues, as if attempting to puncture the heavens in a declaration of defiance.

Here, mercy was a forgotten language, and violence the currency of existence.

Vesta, an instructor at Abyss Ascendency, one of Antagonia's elite schools for emerging villains, strutted through the twisting corridors of the Undermarket like a lioness on the prowl.

She was a sultry, femme fatale of a temptress…

Her attire left little to the imagination and her entrancing beauty was a snare—deadly and inviting.

Yet, even the most foolish of Antagonia's residents knew better than to mistake her allure for vulnerability.

Her presence dispersed the crowds like a rock flung into a pool of piranhas—respect born not of love, but fear.

Her eyes, glowing an unnerving shade of green, scanned the stalls as she zeroed in on her quarry.

"Asper, you worm! Where's my shipment of soul shards?"

Vesta's voice was laced with corrosive disdain as she cornered a jittery, second-rate villain dealing in dark artifacts.

Asper's eyes dropped to the ground as his body trembled.

"Two more days, Mistress Vesta. Just two more days."

Vesta sneered.

"You should know better than to delay. My hands may be tied, but I have a group of bloodthirsty students who ache for practice targets."

Her voice was laced with a caustic patience.

The rules prevented her from killing a lower-tier villain like Asper without cause.

A nuisance, but a necessary one.

Just as Vesta turned to leave, her senses tingled.

An intoxicating aura drenched her, one reeking of malevolent intent.

It was Dax, a rival instructor from the opposing school, Venom Virtuosity.

A brawny figure who wore his lecherousness and alcoholism like medals of honor, he sauntered over with a bottle in one hand.

"Vesta, my delicious little nymph… You're growing soft."

Dax sneered, his eyes narrowing on her as he made a vulgar attempt to grab her butt.

In a heartbeat, ethereal blades manifested in Vesta's hands. Dax responded by summoning a sphere of dark energy, crackling with malevolent intent.

Two mid-tier villains, bound by an invisible social contract that allowed them to unleash their wrath on each other.

No one in the Undermarket would intervene;

This was the Law of Antagonia— where power forged the only peace treaty.

Their energies clashed, creating an explosion that sent shockwaves throughout the vicinity.

Merchants and customers alike took cover, but none dared to flee.

This was the Antagonian way—a world where respect was earned through power, and disputes settled through force.

Fortunately for them battle was fierce but short-lived.

Soon, both villains found themselves evenly matched, the output of their dark energies spent.

Blood trickled from Vesta's lips as she spat, "Next time, Dax I'll cut off your manhood and shove it down your throat."

He chuckled darkly. "How bout next time, I shove it deep into you?"

As they retreated, licking their wounds and already plotting the next encounter, an uneasy calm settled over the Undermarket. Transactions resumed, alliances formed, betrayals executed—all in the usual rhythms of a day in Antagonia.

In a world where chaos was the rule and order the fleeting exception, this tenuous balance was the linchpin that allowed Antagonia to persist as a haven for villainy, a safeguard against its own self-destructive impulses.

It was a cutthroat ballet, choreographed to the tunes of betrayal and power, anchored by a single social standard that kept its inhabitants from imploding into unrestrained pandemonium:

Only villains of the same tier could freely snuff out one another's life.

Thus, in this cauldron of unrelenting malice and treachery, life persevered.

This was the twisted equilibrium that maintained the society—a society readying itself for a new player in this deadly game: Daseos Demon.

The proverbial chess board was set. Would Daseos be a pawn in this realm of dark intrigues or would he be the player who tipped the scales?

Life in Antagonia surged forward, a never-ending dance of treachery and power, bound by the one rule that allowed its vicious heart to keep beating.

For now.