Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

"What the—?" Juliana whispered under her breath.

As soon as she turned to flee, the temple's inner sanctum vanished.

In the blink of an eye, she found herself standing inside a grand dining hall.

The opulent dining hall was spacious and luxuriously furnished, its polished marble floors reflecting the glow of a chandelier strung with crystal flames above.

Velvet curtains draped from towering windows, letting the warm light of early evening spill into the room.

The salivating scent of roasted lamb, fresh bread, and an impressive array of exquisite dishes had filled the air.

And seated at the long hardwood table… was her family.

Count Elijah Vox Blade was at the head of the table. His handsome yet severe face bore a deep scar down his left cheek. Yet his eyes, though sharp and intense, held a rare tenderness.

He was a man of dark hair, blue eyes, and a towering frame. All that combined with his strict code of honor gave him the presence of a storybook knight.

Beside him sat Countess Yumiere. She was fair as snow, soft as silk, and elegant in a way the moon is elegant. Her gentle laughter rang like silver chimes through the hall.

Juliana didn't know how to describe her in any other way than just… beautiful.

If Elijah looked like a knight from some fairy tale, then Yumiere — with her snowy hair and luminous silver eyes — seemed every bit a queen descended from the heavens.

Next to her, two smaller figures giggled across their plates, poking at one another with childish mischief. They were the prince and princess of this perfect little family.

Juliana's brother and sister.

And across from them… sat herself.

A girl of almost seven years, wide-eyed and innocent. Entirely unaware of the blood that would soon paint these walls.

Juliana's breath hitched when she saw her younger self. The practiced cold and unyielding composure she had perfected over the years fractured in a second.

She took a step forward, trembling as she stared at the child version of herself sitting there in a frock, swinging her legs beneath the chair, a clueless smile on her face.

It was the smile of a child who had yet to experience life's cruelty. And that smile broke something inside Juliana when she saw it.

Then her gaze drifted upward.

Etched into the ceiling above the table was her family's crest — a blue rose vine, coiled tightly around a sword.

The mark of the Blade Clan.

Juliana's jaw tightened. For a fleeting moment, it almost felt real again.

It almost felt like she had stepped back into that lost time, before everything was torn away from her.

Count Elijah raised his glass and smiled one of his rare smiles. "Tomorrow is our little Juli's birthday. It will be a special day. So I raise this toast to our family. May our bonds outlast the stars."

The children laughed.

Yumiere leaned across to brush crumbs from her eldest daughter's cheek. The little Juliana pouted, insisting she was far too old to be treated like a baby.

In her own words, she was a young lady now.

And for one fragile heartbeat, Juliana — the Juliana of now — wanted to collapse.

She wanted to sink into the chair beside them and break down crying.

She wanted to tell them to run, to hide, to fight — to do anything to escape what was coming.

But the moment shattered.

The dining hall's heavy doors burst open with a thunderous slam.

A butler stumbled inside, his face pale and chest heaving as though he had come running here.

His voice shook with terror as he bowed low. "M–My Lord! The Theosbanes… they're here! They march upon the estate as we speak!"

The Count's glass froze halfway to his lips.

Juliana felt her blood turn to ice.

And then, as if the words themselves had been a curse, the skies outside the windows shifted.

Golden light poured into the dining hall.

The horizon ignited.

It looked as though a sun was rising in the evening sky.

Fleets of jets zeroed in toward the Blade County, flanked by summoned beasts like winged wolves with burning manes, armored wyverns, and storm-clad titans.

The air itself quaked beneath their arrival.

Yet none of it was as terrifying as what Juliana saw next.

At the forefront of that terrifying army — the one leading that massive charge — was a golden dragon, draped in blinding radiance that seared the eyes when looked at it directly.

Its scales gleamed like molten sunlight. Its wings stretched wide enough to blot out the skies. Its roar shook the glass and rattled the mansion's walls.

That was Thorax Theosbane, the Golden Calamity.

And riding on his back was his elder brother — Duke Arthur Theosbane, the Dawn's Scourge.

The Theosbanes had come.

They had come with all their might.

They had come… to butcher the Blade Clan.

•••

The war that followed was short, but arduous.

Count Elijah swiftly mustered his banners and rallied the armies of Blade County to execute a counterattack.

Men and women who had sworn their lives to the clan stood ready. Their resolve shone as bright as steel as they charged at the invading enemy.

But their enemy was the Theosbanes.

And the Theosbanes… had never known defeat on any battlefield.

Today was not going to change that.

The two armies collided in a storm of fire and blood.

The Blades fought valiantly, their swords ringing, their banners burning, their voices rising in desperate defiance.

But one by one, their ranks started falling apart.

Soldiers in gold swept through Eden Fall City, the capital of Blade County, and tore it stone from stone.

From the skies, the dragon's maw spewed torrential fire that rained down upon streets and homes, reducing everything below to blackened ruin.

Flakes of ash fell like snow. The screams of those burned alive carried for miles.

For an hour, the Blade army held.

An hour of righteously fighting back. An hour of steel meeting steel, of blood soaking the earth.

And then… their final line broke.

The Theosbanes breached their defences and reached the Blade mansion.

Inside the estate, Yumiere drew her blade and made her final stand.

Her sword art looked like it was something out of legend. It flowed like water and struck like the wind.

Each swing she made carried enough conviction to cut a mountain. Each stroke she dealt was like a mix of unearthly grace and surgical precision.

For a moment, no one could match her.

Every time her katana moved through the air, dozens of men were sliced in half — unable even to resist, let alone fight back.

She was, in one word, unstoppable.

That fearsome prowess was her heritage.

After all, she was descended from the Valkryn branch family.

And Valkryns were known for the ruinous might of their sword arts.

Two hundred men fell to her hand that night.

Two hundred Theosbanes.

…But even her brilliance could not stem the tide.

In the end, Thorax shed his draconic form and came down to end her carnage himself.

With tyrannical strength, he drove her back until she collapsed to her knees, her shattered katana clattering to the ground beside her.

•••

Elsewhere, amidst the ruins of his own hall, Elijah Vox Blade faced Arthur Kaizer Theosbane.

The Dawn's Scourge versus the Moonborne Knight.

Day against night, might against grace.

It was less a battle and more a spectacle.

The Golden Duke's bare fists collided against Elijah's sword. Each of their exchanges shook the whole estate to its foundations.

Walls crumbled. Towers toppled. A garden once blooming with blue roses became nothing but a crater of ash.

And when the dust finally cleared… Elijah Vox Blade lay broken on the ground, his own sword buried in his chest.

Soldiers in gold stormed the halls and dragged the screaming children out.

The youngest thrashed and kicked. Their cries echoed through the night as they were thrown before their parents.

On his knees, Elijah lifted his head to meet Arthur's cold gaze.

His voice rasped with a blend of defeat and sorrow. "You could've fought beside me, my friend."

"You lost the right to call me that years ago, traitor!" Arthur spat, his eyes burning with more disgust than contempt. "Any last words?"

Elijah gave a ragged laugh, shaking his head.

"You are in my debt, Arthy. And Theosbanes pay their debts, do they not? Then return me my favor and—" His trembling hand lifted, pointing toward his eldest daughter, Juliana, who was sobbing hysterically as two soldiers pinned her down. "—and don't kill her. Please."

Arthur's brow arched. "Really? You won't beg for your own life?"

Elijah's lips curved in a bitter smile. "You wouldn't understand. You've never loved anyone or anything beyond your wife. And now even she has been taken from you — torn away by cruel heavens. I'm not even angry at you anymore. I pity you, Arthy. I… pity—"

Kaaach—!!

He never got to finish his last words.

Because Arthur wrenched his head free with his bare hands, tearing it from his shoulders and tossing it aside casually.

At the same time, Thorax crushed Yumiere's skull beneath his foot.

The Count and Countess Vox Blade died together.

All around, their household was butchered.

Servants, aides, guards — all of them were cut down. Their screams filled the burning estate as golden soldiers mercilessly carved through them without pause.

Arthur strode forward.

Juliana's younger brother and sister were dragged before him, thrashing and crying.

With a single motion of his hand, their chests burst open. Two small hearts tore free into his palm, wrenched from their bodies by his innate power. He crushed them without hesitation.

Blood of two innocent children spilled through his fingers as their lifeless little bodies fell.

…And little Juliana broke.

Her eyes went wide with horror. Her screams rose to a pitch of agony and rage that shredded her throat.

She thrashed as soldiers pressed her harder against the floor, her white hair spilling into the blood pooling around her.

Arthur signaled for his men to release her.

The moment their grip loosened, she hurled herself forward and collapsed against her father's decapitated body, clutching it with tiny bloodied hands.

Her sobs were hoarse. Her hair streaked red.

Arthur loomed above her, silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he placed a hand upon her trembling head.

She didn't even notice.

"Heavens are cruel indeed," Arthur murmured.

•••

Juliana watched the whole scene in silence.

A lump rose in her throat, but she forced it down.

In front of her eyes, her younger self was already crying enough for both of them. She didn't need to do that.

…Yet the vision did not end there as she had hoped.

Juliana watched as her younger self was dragged into the Theosbane estate after the fall of her house.

She saw herself kneel where she had once knelt, bound in the same shackles she had once worn, whispering the same oaths of revenge she had once whispered in the dark when no one was listening.

Time passed.

A lot of time passed.

Days bled into months. Months bled into years.

Juliana didn't know how long she had been watching anymore. But at some point, she saw that girl twist into something harder and sharper.

Her hatred was no longer a wound. It was fire. Fire that kept her warm. Fire that burned everything else away.

Every smile she showed was false. Every bond she forged was fake.

Every decision she made was pointed like an arrow toward one single target — Arthur Kaizer Theosbane.

Her younger self vowed to kill him. And from that moment onward, every breath she drew fed that vow.

Then… Juliana watched herself grow older — older than she was now in reality.

She watched herself stepping into a life she had not yet lived.

A life consumed by nothing but revenge.

She saw that other, older Juliana bleed for her goal.

She betrayed comrades who trusted her. She sacrificed innocents. She cut herself off from any kind of love, abandoned every chance at joy, and strangled any piece of herself that remembered what it meant to be human.

Everything she did, she did for revenge.

And in the end… she succeeded.

Juliana saw her other self kill Arthur with her own hands.

She watched him fall at last, and thought — this is it. This is the moment. The victory. The triumph. The sweet release.

It was all hers.

…But the other Juliana only sat in the blood of her father's murderer, staring into nothing.

And in that silence, Juliana understood.

There was no victory.

There was no triumph, there was no release.

There was only the hollow emptiness in her heart that had always been there inside her ever since the day she saw her family die.

Even after killing Duke Arthur, she felt… nothing.

Nothing at all.

Not even hatred anymore, because there was no one left to hate. She had no enemies… and with it, she had no purpose.

She had spent her entire existence chasing this end, and when she reached it — there was nothing waiting for her.

No family. No friends. No lover.

No one to care for her, and no one to care about.

She had burned every bridge in pursuit of that one final strike, and when the flames died… she was alone in the ashes.

Many more years passed.

Juliana watched her other self now lying on her deathbed in her old family home that she had rebuilt.

Her body was frail, and her eyes tired.

Her hands were cold, and the house silent.

In her final moments, no loved ones stood at her side. No warmth remained in her life.

That hollow emptiness in her heart never left her.

By the end, she died alone.

Her wretched existence came to a miserable end, and the world did not even notice.

Juliana's hands shook as she watched it all. Her nails dug into her palm so hard it hurt.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be. This… this was a lie. A trick. A nightmare!

"It's a lie! It's a lie! It's a lie!" she whispered hoarsely, again and again.

Because it had to be.

It couldn't end like this.

Her life couldn't end so depressingly!

She had planned to take her revenge, to be free, to feel alive again and be happy!

She was going to be happy!

She wouldn't…

She wouldn't just die alone, empty inside, forgotten. Right?!

T-That wouldn't happen…

It was then— she heard a distorted voice breathing against her ear.

"No," the voice whispered. "This is real. This is your future. You could've picked between freedom and revenge, and you chose revenge. How could you expect to be free and at peace with a desire so dark like that weighing you down? And it weighed you down until it crushed you. This is what will happen because you just… can't… let… go!"

Juliana spun around on instinct— and froze.

Because as soon as she did, she was standing in her childhood home.

The firelight was gone. The blood was gone.

Her deathbed was gone too.

In its place stood a long wooden table, set for a meal.

Her father sat at the head, stern yet smiling. Her mother was beside him, gentle as ever. Her siblings laughed and poked each other over plates.

And there, tucked between them, was her younger self.

The air smelled of roasted lamb and fresh bread, filled with a warmth she hadn't felt in years.

A warmth she knew she would never feel again.

Her father raised his glass. "Tomorrow is our little Juli's birthday. It will be a special day. So I raise this toast to our family. May our bonds outlast the stars."

And just like that… the nightmare began all over again.