The Villainous Noble Regressed With The Villain System

I was exhausted.

More like... hollow.

My limbs didn't ache—they simply refused to move. The numbness was total, not from injury but from something deeper. Maybe it was the aftermath of using the Crimson Pact Arts, or perhaps the soul simply tires when it gives up a part of itself.

The thralls had stopped moving a while ago, their bodies sprawled around me like broken marionettes. There was no sound now. No growling. No clash of steel. Just silence—and in that silence, for the first time in what felt like days, I found the space to breathe.

I knew my level must've gone up. Killing that many thralls in a single streak… not to mention invoking a forbidden pact spell. It came with a price, yes, but it also must've brought some gains. Somewhere in the back of my vision, I had noticed those translucent blue notifications flash briefly—Story Points gained, maybe even Skill Level Up.

But I couldn't bring myself to open the status window. Not now.

Even victory felt like a burden.

I'll check it later. I deserve rest, if only for a moment.

Lying against the cold rock, my back protested with every breath. My joints throbbed like they were soaked in lead, my mana pool a cracked bowl—nothing left to draw from.

The ShadowStep skill had saved my life back there. Its burst of momentum, sharp as a dagger and quick as thought, had pulled me out of death's grasp more than once. I needed to train it more. If I could increase the distance... reduce the cooldown... maybe even learn to manipulate the shadow it used to jump—

The thought cut itself short. My mind drifted.

The Unseen Veil, the other skill I purchased, hadn't been of use in direct battle. It wasn't meant for that. But I didn't regret buying it. In a world where the strong rule and secrets shape fate, invisibility was a language far louder than swordplay.

The sky above was starless.

A dense darkness hung there, like a curtain that refused to be drawn. And I realized that was what I felt too. Empty. Veiled. Starless.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

I had sacrificed a part of my memory.

The regression timelines...

I couldn't remember what they were anymore. Couldn't recall the events I had studied so carefully, the mistakes I had meant to avoid, the faces I had sworn to protect... or eliminate. Even my final goal had slipped from conscious memory.

But I had faith.

Because I know myself. Not the version of me lying broken and bloodstained on a battlefield, but the one who had walked through fire before me. The one who had chosen to give up memory, because he knew he'd leave behind clues, tools—like the Broken Sword of Caesar, and the story points, and this very body I still controlled.

I trust him.

We are fragments of the same whole. A continuum. Carried by will.

I breathed in again. The air was cold. Not cruelly so—just... honest.

The kind of cold that reminds you you're still alive.

A faint star blinked into the sky.

So faint it was almost a trick of the eye. A flickering speck like the last ember of a dying flame. You could miss it if you blinked. You could miss it even if you were staring right at it.

And yet… it was there.

Faint, trembling, forgotten. But there.

Like purpose.

Like meaning.

It struck me then—truth doesn't roar. Destiny doesn't come wrapped in thunder and golden light. Often, it's that one whisper that endures the storm. The dim flame you protect against the wind not because it will win the war... but because it mustn't go out.

And so long as I had that—no matter how faint—I would keep going.

I don't need to remember why I fight.

I just need to fight like I remember.

I have died many times.

I have been born again many times.

I have forgotten names, cities, even love.

But the cause? The cause is deeper than memory. It's etched into the soul.

If I ever uncover the truth behind this world, behind the timelines and gods and hidden pacts... it won't be through strength alone.

It will be because I refused to let the ember die.

And thus, I closed my eyes—not in surrender, but in faith.

Faith in the plan.

Faith in the path.

Faith in myself—across centuries, across deaths, across forgotten lives.

This time…

For sure...

I will reach the end.

And when I do, I'll remember everything.

Even the star I saw tonight.

***

"Huff.....Huff".

Inside the academy, Monica along with the girl named Trisha, whom Dorian has rescued, walked in light steps, as if to avoid being seen.

Most of the City Guards and second year students were stationed near the auditorium, guarding it from inside and outside of any potential threats.

The sound outside the barrier had calmed down, but inside it was turbulent.

Some were arguing against each other with the purpose of getting accommodations.

Some were arguing with the Guards, about not letting them step outside and observe the situation for themselves.

Foolish behaviour born out of desperation of the situation.

Even if everyone knew it was not the time for such things, everyone's mental state was not really stable to think straight.

It only put the Guards in a difficult position, as they got frustrated and used violence to calm down the situation, only to get it more aggravated.

Monica stood a little away from the auditorium and saw the civilians arguing with the Guards at the open doorstep.

She signalled Trisha, and both, taking advantage of the commotion, entered inside, without raising suspicion.

" I haven't seen Ariana much often, but I can definitely recognise her, if I get a look at her.", Monica mumbled.

"Um.....can I help somehow?", Trisha asked, in a polite tone, her terrified demeanor had faded away.

"...Sure, then..... I am searching for a first year girl, named Ariana.....Oh, look, she must be wearing the same uniform as mine, as I am a first year too.", Monica said pointing towards her uniform.

"She has silver hair, a bit short in height and thin figure. That's the only thing I can say about her", Monica said, as much as she could remember from her past lives.

"T-Then, I will go search for her too. What should I say, if I find her?", Trisha, pumpously asked, eyes filled with enthusiasm.

Monica remembered what Dorian said to her, in case they find Ariana.

"Just say her these words, and she will instantly agree to come with you."

YOUR BROTHER IS ALIVE.

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