Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

They moved away from the scene of the one-sided slaughter, deeper into the dark forest.

The only sound was the rustling of leaves under their boots.

Isolde, of course, was the one to break the silence.

"That was wonderfully efficient, wasn't it?" she said, her voice bright and cheerful. "Though I must say, Senior Seraphina, I was surprised."

"I thought your crystal magic would be a bit more… flashy."

Seraphina shot her a venomous glare. "It's called strategy, Princess. I used the minimum amount of Aether needed to trap my opponent."

"Unlike some people, I don't feel the need to show off."

The jab was clearly aimed at Selvara, who had used overwhelming force.

Selvara just smiled, a slow, cold smile. Pss. "If you have the power, why not use it? Why play with your food? It's inefficient."

"It's about control," Seraphina snapped back.

"It's about winning," Selvara countered. "Something our other second-year knows nothing about."

Her icy eyes flickered to Azrael. He didn't react. He just kept walking, his mind a million miles away.

He was thinking about the test. He knew that their team, this collection of monsters, was one of the three real contenders to win the whole thing.

First, there was the hero's team. They had Kaelen, whose power grew the longer he fought. They had Elvara, whose true potential was a hidden trump card.

Then there was the team led by the Headmaster's own nephew and niece. They were twins, third-years known for their perfect coordination.

And then there was his team. Team Seven. A team of villains and a reluctant heroine. A team that, on paper, was probably the most powerful of all.

'The real battle hasn't even started yet,' he thought, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

This whole academy, this whole test, it felt so small now. He knew Aethelgard Academy was just a stepping stone. A tutorial island for the hero.

The real story began when the hero entered the true center of the world: the Ethereal Nexus Academy.

It was an academy on an unknown space continent, a place where the prodigies of all the different races—Elves, Vampires, Beastkin—all came to compete.

In that place, an overpowered monster like Kaelen was just another student. A strong one, yes, but far from the top.

His thoughts drifted to the author, the mysterious person who had penned this world into existence.

Kenji had been drawing the second-to-last act, the great war where Isolde is finally defeated.

He had just received the first few pages for the final act, the one that detailed the arrival of the Demon Lord, right before he had been pulled into this world.

That meant his knowledge of the future had a hard stop. He knew the plot up until Isolde's death. Everything after that was a complete mystery.

He remembered the history lesson from the novel. This universe wasn't just one world, but many.

Ages ago, in the human world, a shimmering tear in reality had appeared. A Gate. And from it, the Elves had walked out.

The first contact had been a disaster. The Elves, seeing the technologically primitive humans, saw them as little more than clever animals.

The humans, terrified of these powerful magical beings, reacted with fear and a clumsy, preemptive attack.

The Elves, insulted, had retaliated. It wasn't a war. It was a purge.

Amidst the chaos, as humanity was being pushed to the brink, another Gate appeared. And from it came the Vampires.

The conflict between the nature-loving Elves and the blood-drinking Vampires was immediate and explosive. Their war gave humanity a much-needed break.

After ages of hiding, humanity played its hand. They surrendered to the Vampire clans, learned their ways, and then formed an alliance.

The combined forces of humanity and the Vampires pushed the Elves back.

But the universe wasn't done. Two more Gates stabilized. From one came the Beastkin, humanoids with incredible physical strength.

From the other came the Dragonkin, beings with the blood of dragons, born with tough scales and terrifying power.

The cycle of war started anew. A chaotic, five-way conflict between the races raged in the void for centuries.

And then, a new Gate appeared. This one was different. It was black and jagged, like a wound in reality, leaking a corrupting energy.

From this Gate came the Demons.

They looked upon the endless war not with shock, but with hunger. They began their slaughter.

They didn't fight for territory or for slaves. They fought for the sake of destruction itself.

First, the Vampire clans were shattered. Then the Elven kingdoms were burned. Humans, Dragonkin, and Beastkin all retreated to their own worlds.

They knew this new power was too strong to face alone.

And so, the Great Alliance was formed.

The five races, who had spent centuries trying to kill each other, were now forced to fight together for their very survival.

They fought for ages, a desperate, bloody war against the demonic hordes. And they were winning.

They pushed the demons back to the very edge of their own corrupted realm. The people of the five worlds began to celebrate.

And then, a single figure appeared on the battlefield.

The Demon King.

The hope in the eyes of the allied soldiers turned to absolute terror. The screams of victory turned to screams of pain.

The tables didn't just turn; they were obliterated.

The Demon King single-handedly slaughtered the entire vanguard of the allied army. He then conquered the void in a single day.

His goal was total annihilation. His army, led by his three monstrous generals, scattered, attacking all five realms at once.

A single general was capable of mass destruction on a scale that could shatter continents. They killed half the population of the five worlds in months.

All the people were crying, begging for help, calling out to whatever gods they believed in. But no one answered.

The demons were on a blood march, and the worlds were burning. Was this the end?