I died.
That was the only thing I was certain of.
The pain had been unbearable.
My body, once strong, had been reduced to a frail husk, hollowed out by disease.
Cancer had sunk its claws deep into my flesh, devouring me from the inside. No amount of treatment had worked.
In the end, I had been left in a hospital bed, tubes in my arms, the beeping of machines filling the sterile air as nurses hovered over me.
"Hold on! Just a little longer!"
Their voices had been distant, as if muffled through thick glass.
My vision had blurred, darkness creeping at the edges. My body had burned with fever, yet I had felt cold — so damn cold.
And then, nothing.
No tunnel of light. No divine revelation. No final glimpse of the world I was leaving behind.
Just the void.
Then, I woke up.
The first thing I noticed was the scent — earthy, fresh, alive. The sterile hospital air was gone, replaced by the crisp scent of damp soil and leaves.
I inhaled sharply, and a sharp intake of air rushed into my lungs, filling me with something I hadn't felt in years. Strength.
I opened my eyes.
Towering trees surrounded me, their branches swaying gently under the golden rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy.
The chirping of birds and the rustling of unseen creatures filled the air. A breeze swept past, ruffling my hair.
This wasn't a hospital. This wasn't my world.
Panic surged through me. I scrambled to my feet — or at least, I tried to. My limbs felt wrong. Lighter. Smaller. My balance was off, and my clothes…
I looked down. The hospital gown was gone, replaced by a finely tailored black shirt and trousers, both a bit too loose on me.
I lifted my hands, my fingers slender and pale, free of the scars and callouses I had earned over the years. This wasn't my body.
What the hell was going on?
A cold feeling settled in my gut as I stumbled forward.
My legs carried me, instinctively moving toward the faint sound of running water in the distance. A stream.
I had to see.
Branches snapped under my feet as I pushed through the undergrowth. My breathing grew heavier, my heart pounding against my ribs. I could see the glimmer of water up ahead.
I reached the edge of the stream and knelt down.
And then, I saw it.
A boy stared back at me from the water's surface.
A young face, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with striking silver hair and sharp amethyst-colored eyes. His features were delicate, almost aristocratic, with high cheekbones and a natural elegance.
I knew this face.
Damien Nightshade.
The villain.
A name pulled from the depths of my memory — a character from a novel I had read years ago.
And I was in his body.
I sucked in a sharp breath. This had to be a dream.
Some kind of fever-induced hallucination before my real death. But the water was cold against my fingers, the wind was real against my skin, and the scent of damp earth filled my nose.
It was real.
Panic threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced myself to think. I needed information.
Damien Nightshade… The villain of Fate's Triumph, the dark noble whose only purpose in the story was to be crushed by the Hero and his harem of heroines.
A stepping stone. A joke. Betrayed, humiliated, and ultimately executed.
And if I was Damien, then that meant…
The story hadn't started yet.
I glanced down at my hands again, my mind racing. Damien had attended the prestigious Arcadia Wizard Academy alongside the Hero and his companions, but I remembered from the novel that he was a year older than the Hero.
That meant I had one year.
One year before everything fell apart.
One year before my fate as the villain was sealed.
I clenched my fists.
No.
I refused to let that happen.
I had already died once. I had already suffered through years of pain, years of helplessness. But here? In this world? I wasn't dying. I wasn't weak.
And I sure as hell wasn't going to let some self-righteous Hero trample over me.
But first, I needed to understand what this body was capable of.
A thought flickered through my mind — if I had truly become Damien, then did that mean…?
[Ding!]
A crisp, mechanical sound echoed in my head, and suddenly, a translucent screen materialized before me.
─── [Villain Status – Damien Nightshade] ───
Race: Human (???)
Class: Villain of Fate (Unique)
Level: 1
Title: [None]
Affiliation: [None]
🔹 HP: 100 / 100
🔹 MP: 300 / 300
🔹 Stamina: 120 / 120
🔹 Strength: 6
🔹 Agility: 9
🔹 Vitality: 7
🔹 Intelligence: 14
🔹 Wisdom: 16
🔹 Dexterity: 11
🔹 Luck: ???
🔹 Fate Resistance: 1
─── Core Abilities ───
📖 [Fatebreaker's Grimoire] (Legendary – Unique)
A cursed tome that allows its wielder to defy fate itself.
🛑 Cannot Be Stolen, Traded, or Destroyed.
🔹 [Rewrite Fate] – (Locked)
🔹 [Predation] – (Locked)
🔹 [Corrupt Heroic Destiny] – (Locked)
🔹 [Limitless Evolution] (Passive) – No Growth Limits
───
I exhaled slowly.
A System. But not just any System — a Villain System.
I swallowed. If this meant what I thought it did, then I wasn't entirely doomed. I had a way to fight back against fate. A way to rewrite my destiny.
I stared at my reflection again, my amethyst eyes gleaming in the sunlight.
I was no longer that sick, dying man in a hospital bed.
I was Damien Nightshade now.
And this time, I wouldn't be a stepping stone.
I would become the master of fate itself.