I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space - Chapter 437: Merisa / Selena / Nova / Marcella

Back at the Virelan manor

The main hall had fallen into a kind of silence that did not feel peaceful, but rather stretched and heavy, as if even the air itself had grown reluctant to move.. the tall windows let in a pale wash of fading daylight, and dust motes drifted slowly through it, undisturbed, settling into corners that no one seemed to notice anymore, and in one of those quiet, half-forgotten spaces of the room, Merisa sat alone on a chair near the window, her posture composed but unmoving, her gaze fixed outward as though she were watching something far beyond the gardens and stone paths of the estate, though in truth her eyes were unfocused, distant, caught somewhere between thought and memory, and she had been like that for a long while now, long enough that time itself had begun to blur at the edges.

Across from her, not quite in the center and not entirely hidden either, Selena sat on the cold marble floor with her back resting against the wall, her posture slack in a way that spoke less of physical exhaustion and more of something internal giving way, her face outwardly calm, almost empty, but the stillness there was deceptive, because beneath it buried deep in her eyes, in the faint shadows under them, in the way her fingers occasionally tightened against the fabric at her side there was a storm that had not settled even for a moment since that day, since that last conversation, since the last time she had seen Razeal standing in front of her with that look in his eyes, a look she had never seen directed at herself before, and one she had not been able to forget even once.

That final departure had not been loud, not filled with shouting or chaos, but it had been far more damaging for that very reason, because every word he had spoken had been clear, deliberate, and impossible to twist into something softer afterward, and what hurt her the most was not even the fact that he had rejected her, but the way he had done it without leaving any room for misunderstanding, the way he had looked at her and said, plainly, that he would always hate her the most, that among everyone who had wronged him, she stood at the highest place of betrayal in his eyes, and that had not felt like anger in the moment.. it had felt final, settled, as if it had already become truth inside him long before he said it aloud.

She had replayed that moment countless times in her mind since then, trying to find something in his tone, in his expression, anything that might suggest hesitation or conflict, something she could hold onto, something she could fight against, but every time she returned to it, it remained the same, unchanged, and that made it worse, because there was nothing to argue with, nothing to fix directly, nothing she could immediately act upon except endure it.

And yet even that was not what had broken her the most.

It was what came after.

The knowledge that he had already married someone else.

That fact had settled into her like something sharp and unmoving, something she could neither ignore nor remove, and every time her thoughts circled back to it, it felt just as unbearable as the first moment she had heard it. She had tried to reason with it, to analyze it the way she always did with everything else, to understand it logically, but there was no logic that could ease it, no explanation that made it acceptable, because it was not just about him choosing someone else it was about the time and the speed of it, the way something she had spent years chasing, fighting for, reshaping herself for, had somehow been given to another person in what felt like no time at all.

Who did nothing much for him? Something she wanted for any price.. just got to someone for like nothing..

How could it be that simple for someone else?

That question had come to her again and again, sometimes in anger, sometimes in disbelief, and sometimes in something quieter, something more hollow. She stared up at the ceiling now, her eyes tracing the faint patterns carved into the stone, but not really seeing them, her thoughts moving inward as she murmured silently to herself.

Two months… it had only been two months, and that was all it took..?

Merisa had told her about the woman the one with blue hair who had been married to him was the princess of Atlantis.

And Selena had heard it, understood it, but it had not made it easier to accept, because titles, status, strength none of that answered the question that mattered to her. What had she done for him? What had she given him that Selena herself had not tried to give, in her own way, through her own means, even if those means had been flawed, even if they had crossed lines she herself had once sworn never to cross?

She had gone against her own ideals for him. She had broken her own rules, compromised.. all for the sake of being acknowledged, of being accepted, of being loved by him, and now when she looked back at it.. she couldn’t accept it..

Her fingers curled slightly against the floor, tightening, not in anger exactly, but in something close to it, something mixed with hurt and disbelief. She did not think he loved that woman. That much, she was certain of.

She did not need confirmation, did not need anyone to tell her she had seen his eyes, she knew the way he looked at people when he truly felt something, and that had not been it. There had been something else there, something more controlled, more distant, as if the decision had come from somewhere other than his heart.

Maybe it was loneliness.

Maybe it was a way to cover what he was feeling.

Or maybe… it was meant for her.

The thought came uninvited, but it stayed. Maybe he had done it knowing she would hear about it. Maybe he wanted her to feel hurt?

Or maybe he believed that by doing this, she would finally give up, that she would stop trying, stop reaching, stop holding onto something he had already decided to let go of.

She didn’t know which of those was true.

But she knew one thing.

He did not love that woman. Not yet..?

And that single thought, fragile as it was, was the only thing that had kept her from breaking completely, the only thing she had been able to hold onto in the middle of everything else collapsing around her. It did not heal anything, did not make the pain go away, but it gave her something to stand on, something that told her that everything was not completely over, not entirely beyond reach.

Still, the hurt remained.

It sat heavy in her chest, in her throat, in the quiet way she breathed, in the emptiness behind her eyes. The room remained silent, neither of them speaking for a long time, the weight of everything settling between them without needing words.

Then, slowly, Selena turned her head, her gaze shifting from the ceiling to Merisa, her eyes no longer entirely distant, but still carrying that deep, quiet ache beneath them. Her voice, when it came, was soft, controlled, but not steady in the way she would have preferred.

“Aunt Merisa…” she said, pausing just slightly, as if choosing her words carefully, “…can I ask you something?”

Merisa’s gaze shifted from the window the moment Selena’s voice reached her, and what met Selena was not the composed, distant woman she had been moments ago, but someone whose eyes carried a quiet, unmistakable weight of guilt and sorrow, a heaviness that had settled there long before this conversation even began..

“Do you think… maybe if I hadn’t made that mistake that day…” Selena’s voice came slowly, not breaking but not steady either, as if each word had to be carefully pushed past something lodged in her chest, “…would he have married me? Loved me? Would he not have hated me?” She paused only briefly, but her eyes had already drifted somewhere else, somewhere distant, unfocused, as if she were no longer looking at the hall but at something that existed only in her mind, “…and today… it would’ve been me… holding his hand… not her?”

There was no bitterness in the way she said it, and that, more than anything, made it harder to listen to.. it wasn’t accusation, nor anger, but a quiet, almost fragile longing, the kind that comes not from entitlement but from something that had once felt within reach and was now undeniably gone. As the image formed in her mind again the one she had tried, unsuccessfully, to push away countless times her lips curved faintly, not into a smile of happiness, but something softer and more painful, something that belonged entirely to memory; she could see it clearly, the way that woman had stood beside him, the ease of it, the closeness, the way her hand had been in his as if it belonged there, and for a moment Selena allowed herself to imagine that same scene with herself in that place, her fingers intertwined with his, her presence beside him not as someone trying to reach him, but as someone already chosen.

Her eyes closed slowly, as if holding onto that image for just a second longer, but the moment lingered too sharply, cutting through whatever fragile comfort it offered, and a quiet, almost breathless chuckle escaped her, soft and hollow, carrying more pain than sound as the illusion dissolved just as quickly as it had formed.

Merisa watched all of it without interruption, her expression not shifting into sympathy in any obvious way, yet the depth in her eyes said enough; she could have answered, could have tried to give comfort, could have said something to ease the weight of those words, but she didn’t, because she knew better than to offer something false, and more importantly, because she herself did not have an answer that wouldn’t hurt. That same question had existed in her mind as well, lingering at the edges of every quiet moment would it have been different? but she had never allowed herself to follow it too far, because the answer, whatever it was, would change nothing about the present, and yet would deepen the regret all the same.

“You know the answer,” Merisa said finally, her voice low, steady, and devoid of any attempt to soften the truth, not because she lacked compassion, but because she understood that false comfort would only break later, and break worse.

The words settled into the space between them, heavy and unmoving, and the hall seemed to grow even quieter, as if the silence itself had thickened around them. Selena did not respond immediately; instead, she leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes still closed, and for a moment she remained completely still, but then, slowly, the tension in her face shifted, and a tear slipped free from the corner of her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek, followed by another, and then another, each one falling without sound, without any attempt to stop them.

“…Do you think…” she began again, her voice softer now, almost distant, as if she were speaking more to herself than to Merisa, “…if I disappeared from this world… he would feel better?”

It was not said dramatically, not with desperation or urgency, but with a kind of quiet sincerity that made it more unsettling, as if she were genuinely considering it as a possibility, weighing it the way she would any other decision.

Merisa did not look away this time either. She watched Selena for a long moment, her expression tightening ever so slightly, not in anger, but in something more controlled, more deliberate, as if choosing her words with care..

“Maybe… or maybe not,” she said, not rushing the words, not avoiding them either, “I don’t know.” There was a brief pause, just enough for the honesty of that uncertainty to settle, before she continued, her gaze steady, unwavering, “But I don’t think us disappearing is the kind of ’better’ that matters.”

That answer did not resolve anything, did not offer a solution, but it was real, and in that moment, reality was the only thing Merisa was willing to give.

The silence returned once more, deeper this time, heavier, stretching across the hall without interruption; even Marcella, who stood at a respectful distance with her posture perfectly straight, her hands clasped behind her back in practiced discipline, could feel the weight of it pressing into the room. She had remained quiet throughout, as she always did, her presence steady and unobtrusive, yet her eyes moved subtly between the two women, taking in every shift, every pause, every word left unsaid; she had noticed the change in Merisa ever since their return, something subtle but undeniable in the way her aura felt, in the quiet increase in her strength, in the faint difference in her presence that spoke of something altered on a deeper level, yet she had not questioned it, not out loud, not even privately, because her loyalty did not require explanation.

Still, she could not ignore what she was seeing now. The matriarch she respected, and Selena, who had once carried herself with certainty and intensity, both now sitting in a silence that felt closer to collapse than rest it was not something she could fix, nor something she believed she had the right to interfere in, and that helplessness settled quietly within her as she exhaled a restrained breath, unseen, unheard.

And then, without warning, the stillness shattered as the large doors to the hall burst open with a sharp, violent sound, the force of it echoing across the space as wood struck against stone, and every gaze shifted instantly toward the entrance; the suddenness of it cut cleanly through the quiet, leaving no room for hesitation or confusion, only immediate attention.

In the doorway stood Nova.

Her presence did not announce itself with power or aura, there was no surge of energy, no overwhelming force pressing outward, and yet the moment she stepped inside, something in the air changed, subtle but undeniable her head was slightly lowered, her face partially obscured by strands of her hair that had fallen forward, hiding her eyes completely from view, and without a single word, without even acknowledging the others directly, she began to walk forward, her steps slow, measured, each one deliberate.

Nova looked no different from them at first glance quiet, heavy, and carrying that same dull, suffocating weight in her presence but there was something beneath it that did not match, something tighter, sharper, as if whatever she had seen or understood had not broken her the way it had Selena, but instead condensed into something far more dangerous.

Marcella’s eyes followed her closely, and though she did not move, her breath slowed in a controlled manner, her instincts sharpening, because that kind of silence in someone like Nova was never empty, and the familiarity of that expression the same hollow distance she had seen on Selena, the same restrained grief she had seen on Merisa only made her more certain of one thing, that Nova had met him as well.

Merisa turned her head toward her slowly, her expression softening just slightly, not out of relief but out of a quiet, weary acknowledgment, as if she had been expecting this, or at least expecting something to come from Nova’s return, and she let out a faint breath before speaking, her voice low, controlled, but undeniably tired beneath it, “You’re here…”

There was no answer.

Nova did not respond, did not nod, did not even shift her gaze toward Merisa as one would normally do; she simply continued walking forward at the same steady pace, her steps measured, her posture straight, her face still partially hidden behind her hair, giving nothing away.

Selena opened her eyes at the sound, her gaze moving slowly toward Nova, and for a moment she simply watched her approach, her expression blank but attentive, as if trying to read something from her presence, trying to understand what kind of state she was in..

“Are you alright?” Merisa asked again, this time with a slight crease forming between her brows, the concern more apparent now, not forced but genuine, even through the exhaustion that weighed on herzz she did not rise from her chair, did not change her position, but her attention was fully on Nova now, because regardless of everything else, she still recognized the pain Nova must be carrying, still understood that whatever had happened out there had not been easy for her to bear.

But Nova did not answer that either.

She just kept walking.

Step by step, closing the distance between them without hesitation, without pause, until she stood directly in front of Merisa, close enough that there was no space left between them to ignore, and for a fraction of a moment, everything seemed to hold still, as if the room itself had drawn a breath and forgotten to release it.

Then suddenly she moved.

It was not gradual, not telegraphed, not something that could be read or anticipated from her posture; one moment she was standing there, and the next she was gone, her figure vanishing from where she had been, leaving behind nothing but a faint disturbance in the air and then she was in front of Merisa, already in motion, her arm extended forward, her blade driving straight toward Merisa’s chest with a speed and precision that allowed no hesitation, no adjustment, no second chance.

Selena did not even register the movement in time to react her eyes widened, but by the time her mind caught up, the action had already reached its end.

Marcella saw it though she didn’t moved as knowing she doesn’t need to take

Action as.. Merisa could stop this. Easily and without any effort.

But sadly as out of her expectations.

Merisa did not raise her hand, did not shift her body, did not attempt to deflect or evade.. she simply sat there, her gaze fixed on Nova’s face, calm in a way that was not indifferent, but accepting, as if she had already made a decision in that split second, as if she had chosen not to resist.

The blade pierced through.

There was no obstruction, no resistance strong enough to halt it; the sword drove straight into her chest, through her heart, the motion clean and direct, and the sound that followed was not loud, but it was unmistakable the dull, wet impact of steel entering flesh.

Blood followed immediately.

It spread outward from the point of entry, staining the fabric of her clothes, spilling forward and downward in a dark, spreading bloom, and then it fell drops striking the floor with a soft, irregular rhythm, forming small, uneven splashes that stood out sharply against the polished surface beneath them.

For a moment, no one moved.

Marcella’s breath caught, her composure breaking just enough for alarm to surface fully as she stepped forward despite herself, her voice rising with urgency she could no longer restrain.

“My lady?!” Her hand had already begun to lift, her body shifting to act, to intervene, to do something, anything, because this was no longer something she could justify observing.

But Merisa raised her hand.

It was a small movement, slow compared to everything that had just happened, but it carried authority that could not be ignored.. her fingers lifted just enough to signal stop, and Marcella froze where she stood, her body locked between instinct and obedience, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to halt.

Confusion and fear surged through her at once, her mind rejecting what she was seeing even as her eyes confirmed it.. no matter how powerful someone was, no matter what level they had reached, a direct strike through the heart for mortal was not something one can simply ignored.. it was fatal, it was absolute, and yet Merisa had allowed it, had chosen not to defend herself, and that choice made no sense in any framework Marcella could accept.

“Why…?” the question never fully formed, but it echoed silently within her as she remained still, as ordered, even while every part of her resisted that stillness.

“Nova.. what are you doing?!” Marcella’s voice came again, sharper this time, directed at Nova, trying to reach her, to break whatever state she was in, but Nova did not even turn her head in acknowledgment.

Her attention remained fixed entirely on Merisa.

Merisa, for her part, did not cry out, did not gasp, did not even flinch; her body remained seated as it had been, the sword embedded fully through her chest, its tip extending out behind her, blood continuing to drip steadily along its edge and down onto the floor, and yet her expression remained composed, her breathing shallow but controlled, her eyes lifting slowly to meet Nova’s.

There was no anger in her gaze.

No accusation.

Only a quiet, steady understanding, and something deeper beneath it regret, perhaps, or acceptance of something long overdue.

She looked at Nova as if this, too, was something she had anticipated in some form, as if she had already accepted the possibility of being the one to receive this blow.

The room remained suspended in that moment, the silence heavier than before, broken only by the faint, rhythmic sound of blood hitting the floor.

“Its all your fault… because of you… he hates me.” Nova’s voice came out low at first, but there was nothing restrained about it, the words cutting through the hall with a rawness that made it clear this was not a thought formed in the moment but something that had been building, festering, tightening inside her for far longer than anyone had realised, and as she spoke, her grip on the sword did not loosen.. instead it tightened, her hand trembling not from hesitation but from the force of everything she was holding back, and then she twisted the blade where it was already buried deep in Merisa’s chest, the motion deliberate, almost cruel in its slowness, as if she wanted to feel it, to make it real, to ensure there was no doubt left about what she had done.

Tears began to fall from her eyes at the same time, silent and steady, betraying everything her voice tried to harden, because she knew exactly what she was doing, knew there was no misunderstanding this act, no way to take it back once done, and yet the reality of it did not stop her if anything, it made it worse, because this was not blind rage.. it was conscious, chosen, and that knowledge made her chest tighten even as she forced herself forward. She had always known Merisa was strong, far stronger than her, far beyond what something like this should have been able to accomplish so easily, and yet… she had not stopped it. She had let it happen. And that was what unsettled Nova more than anything else, because it meant this was real, not illusion, not some defensive trick or false perception she had pierced her own mother’s heart, and Merisa had accepted it without resistance.

“Don’t do that, Nova.. ” Selena’s voice broke through, sharp and urgent in a way it had not been before, and before Nova could react further.

Selena suddenly moved as her body surging forward with sudden force as she drove her foot into Nova’s side, pushing her back.

Nova’s arm rose instinctively to block as leading to her body sliding across the floor from the impact, controlled even in that moment, and as she was forced back, the sword tore free from Merisa’s chest, pulling out in a wet motion that sent another brief spray of blood forward before it began to drip steadily once more.

Even then, Merisa did not move.

She remained seated exactly as she had been, her back straight against the chair, her hands resting loosely, her gaze still fixed on Nova, as if the act itself had not changed anything about her posture or presence, though the evidence of it was undeniable the wound through her chest, the blood spreading across her clothes, the steady loss that should have been fatal for anyone else.

“It’s not her fault… if anything… Its me..” Selena stepped forward, placing herself between Nova and Merisa without hesitation, her breathing uneven but her voice steady as she spoke, “… kill me. I’m the one responsible for all of this.”

There was no defiance in her tone, no attempt to argue or defend herself, only acceptance an acceptance so complete it made the words heavier than any protest would have.

Nova rose slowly from where she had been pushed, her footing stabilising almost instantly, her sword still in hand as she straightened, her gaze locking onto Selena with a sharp, burning intensity, and for a moment she said nothing, her chest rising and falling as if she were holding something back that threatened to spill over completely.

“Yes… you are next,” Nova murmured, her voice quieter now, but far more dangerous, her expression twisting into something unsteady, almost unrecognisable, the edges of her usual composure breaking apart, “don’t be impatient… I’ll kill both of you.”

Selena did not step back.

Instead, a faint golden light began to gather around her, soft at first, then growing brighter as it formed around her body, her hand extending toward Merisa without hesitation, her focus shifting entirely to the wound she had just seen inflicted divine energy flowed outward from her palm, pure and controlled, an S-rank healing spell forming instantly under her command, and the moment it touched Merisa’s body, the effect was immediate flesh knitting together, torn muscle rejoining, the pierced heart repairing itself with unnatural speed, the damage reversing as if the attack had never happened.

Merisa’s breathing steadied, the blood flow slowed, then stopped, and within moments the wound was closing completely.

Nova’s eyes widened slightly at the sight, not in surprise at the healing itself, but at the ease with which Selena moved past everything that had just happened, as if her first instinct had not been to defend herself, but to save the person who had just been attacked because of her.

Her hand trembled again.

Her grip on the sword tightened further, her knuckles paling, the conflict inside her surfacing in small, uncontrollable movements, but she forced it down, forcing herself to focus, to remember why she was here, why she had come back like this, why she had raised her blade in the first place.

It’s because of them…

That thought anchored her again, hardening her expression, even as her eyes remained wet.

“I accept,” Selena said quietly, her gaze lifting to meet Nova’s, unwavering despite everything, “I’ll give you my head… I don’t have a reason to live anymore anyway…” There was no dramatics in her tone, no attempt to gain sympathy, only a simple statement of fact, “…but not yet. Let me prove Razeals innocence first… I was going to do it tomorrow… I’ll prove Razeal’s innocence in front of everyone… after that… my life is yours.”

Nova though just shook her head immediately, almost violently, as if rejecting the idea before it could even settle.

“No… no… there’s no need for that,” she said, her voice rising, unstable now, “I’ll kill you now. Today… And right now.” She pointed the sword directly at Selena, the blade steady despite the tremor in her hand, and yet even as she did so, something in her posture betrayed hesitation not enough to stop her, but enough to show this was not as simple as she wanted it to be. Selena was not just anyone. She was someone Nova had grown up with, someone she had protected, someone she had stood beside for years, and now that same person stood in front of her, offering her own life without resistance.

“I know…” Selena said softly, her voice gentler now, her eyes holding a quiet plea, “…but if I you did that.. Razeals innocence never be proven. People won’t believe it. He’ll still be seen as what they think he is… please… let me do this properly… I’m begging you.”

For a fraction of a second, Nova hesitated.

And then it snapped.

“There’s no need for that!” she suddenly shouted as her expression suddenly twisting again into something unbalanced, something that no longer cared for reasoning, “After you… I’ll kill all of them! No one will be left to remember any of it… So no one will look at him through your lies ever again!”

“What…?” Selena’s eyes widened slightly, the words cutting through her resolve for just a moment, confusion breaking through her sadness as she tried to process what Nova had just said.

But she did not get the chance to respond.

Nova moved.

Her body shot forward with a speed that erased the distance between them instantly, her blade cutting through the air in a clean, direct arc aimed straight for Selena’s neck, her intent clear, final, leaving no room for interruption

But just then it stopped as Marcella now stood between them.

Her hand had moved faster than the blade itself, her fingers closing around the sword with precise control, her index and thumb pinching the edge of it mid-swing, halting it completely as if the force behind it had simply been removed, her stance firm, her presence calm but unyielding.

“Control yourself, young lady,” Marcella said, her voice measured, her eyes sharp behind her glasses as she looked directly at Nova, no hesitation, no fear, only authority.

Nova’s gaze shifted to her, irritation flashing immediately. “Don’t stand in my way, Marcella,” she said, her voice colder now, more controlled but no less dangerous, “I don’t want to kill you… you’re not the one who sinned… but they are. So move.”

Marcella did not move.

Silence followed for a brief moment, heavy and taut, the tension between them tightening, and then Marcella spoke again, her voice quieter this time, but far more deliberate.

“I am responsible too,” she said.

Nova frowned, confusion breaking through her anger for the first time. “…What?”

Marcella did not look away.

“So I have every right to stand here,” she continued, her grip on the blade unwavering, her posture unchanged.

And then, without hesitation, without softening it or delaying it any further, she said the one thing she had kept hidden for years.

“I was the one who helped Razeal escape that day.”

The words settled into the room with a weight that silenced everything else.

Nova, Merisa and Selena all froze.

For a moment, none of them spoke.