The Art of Manipulation and Creation
What... what... so am I overpowered from the start, like those isekai protagonists?" he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as the absurdity of the situation hits him.
For a moment, he feels it—the urge, that ridiculous, cliché moment where he should lower his head, place a hand over his face, and let out that slow, ominous chuckle. The kind that echoes with menace. The kind the overpowered protagonists always do when they realize their strength.
"Mwahaha, I am gonna be unstoppable!"
Mwahaha...
He stops midway, sighs, and mutters, "Wait... this is way too cringe."
His fingers twitch. He takes a breath.
...Then, he scoffs. "Tch." He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Yeah, that really won't suit me."
Then he grins.
Not the exaggerated, theatrical grin of a villain, but something darker, sharper—one that could freeze the blood in your veins. A grin that promises something no one wants to see.
He exhales slowly, and a laugh slips from him—low, guttural, and dripping with malice. It doesn't explode. It doesn't need to. It slides into the air, filling every inch of the room with a quiet, suffocating certainty.
"Ah... haha... heh."
He wasn't just Vael Seraphis. He realized he was something beyond the limits of this reality.
And he intended to make full use of it. In this unknown world, he would do what he had always done-study, adapt, and take control.
But first, he had to play his role.
The Elias Varn he once used to be now is dead. Vael Seraphis had been born anew. And this was only the beginning.