PROLOGUE — THE DAY THE DEVIL DIED

Rain fell relentlessly over the city.

Cold.

Heavy.

Merciless.

The neon lights of the metropolis flickered against the wet asphalt, painting the streets in distorted colors of red, blue, and violet. Cars passed in the distance, their headlights slicing through the rain like pale ghosts drifting through the night.

At the top floor of the tallest building in the city, a man stood before a massive glass window.

The office behind him was silent.

Dark.

Expensive.

Everything inside the room screamed power.

Black marble floors.

A long mahogany desk.

Shelves filled with rare liquor.

Weapons hidden within secret compartments.

But the man standing by the window didn’t care about any of it.

His name was Bastian Devarack.

And the entire underworld feared him.

The most ruthless mafia boss.

The king of the city's shadows.

A monster wearing the skin of a human.

That was how the world described him.

But Bastian simply watched the rain fall from the sky.

His expression was calm.

Cold.

Emotionless.

Like a statue carved from ice.

He lifted a glass of whiskey slowly, swirling the golden liquid inside as if time itself meant nothing to him.

Behind him, several men stood silently.

Armed.

Tense.

Waiting.

None of them dared speak.

Because when Bastian Devarack was thinking, interrupting him was the fastest way to die.

Finally, Bastian spoke.

His voice was quiet.

But it carried absolute authority.

“Did he arrive?”

One of the men stepped forward immediately.

“Yes, Boss.”

“Bring him in.”

The door opened.

A man walked into the office.

Tall.

Sharp eyes.

Dark hair slightly damp from the rain.

His name was Victor Hale.

Bastian’s right-hand man.

The most trusted person in the entire organization.

For years, Victor had stood beside Bastian.

Through bloodshed.

Through war.

Through betrayal.

If Bastian was the king of the underworld, Victor was the blade that carried out his will.

The two men faced each other in silence.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Bastian turned around slowly.

Their eyes met.

“Sit.”

Victor obeyed.

Bastian walked toward his desk and placed the glass down with a soft sound.

He studied Victor carefully.

“You’re late.”

Victor gave a faint smile.

“The rain.”

Bastian didn’t respond.

He simply looked at him.

The room grew colder.

Even the bodyguards felt the tension creeping into their bones.

Bastian Devarack had many enemies.

But there was one thing everyone in the underworld knew.

Bastian trusted no one.

Except Victor.

That was why Victor Hale stood at the top of the organization beside him.

Bastian leaned against the desk.

“Tell me,” he said calmly.

“Did you finish it?”

Victor nodded.

“Yes.”

“The Vance family?”

“Eliminated.”

“Their assets?”

“Transferred.”

“Their territory?”

“Now belongs to us.”

Bastian closed his eyes briefly.

As if confirming something in his mind.

Then he opened them again.

“Good.”

The room fell silent.

But something felt wrong.

Even the guards could feel it.

Something invisible lingered in the air.

Like the quiet moment before a storm.

Victor suddenly stood up.

And then—

He pulled out a gun.

The sound of metal sliding against metal shattered the silence.

Every guard reacted instantly.

Weapons raised.

But Bastian didn’t move.

He simply looked at Victor.

The barrel of the gun was aimed directly at his chest.

The room froze.

Seconds passed.

Rain continued to fall outside the window.

Finally, Bastian spoke.

“Why?”

Victor’s hand trembled slightly.

But the gun remained steady.

His eyes were complicated.

Anger.

Resentment.

Pain.

“Why?” Victor repeated quietly.

“You really don’t know?”

Bastian said nothing.

Victor laughed softly.

“You built an empire of blood.”

“You destroyed families.”

“You killed anyone who stood in your way.”

“And you ask why?”

Bastian’s expression didn’t change.

“You followed me willingly.”

Victor’s eyes darkened.

“Yes.”

“I did.”

He stepped closer.

“You saved me once.”

“So I gave you my loyalty.”

“But loyalty has limits.”

Bastian studied him.

“You’ve grown sentimental.”

Victor’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger.

“Maybe.”

“But tonight…”

Victor’s voice lowered.

“Your reign ends.”

The guards hesitated.

No one dared fire.

Because if they did…

Their boss would die.

Bastian slowly straightened.

For the first time, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“You planned this carefully.”

Victor didn’t deny it.

“I had to.”

“You’re not an easy man to kill.”

Bastian chuckled quietly.

“No.”

He took a step forward.

The gun pressed against his chest now.

But Bastian didn’t stop.

Victor’s breathing grew heavier.

“Stop.”

Bastian ignored him.

He walked until they were only inches apart.

Then he spoke calmly.

“You hesitated.”

Victor froze.

Bastian’s voice was low.

“You could have shot me the moment you walked in.”

“But you didn’t.”

Victor’s jaw clenched.

“Shut up.”

Bastian tilted his head slightly.

“You wanted to talk first.”

“That was your mistake.”

Victor’s finger trembled.

“Don’t move.”

Bastian smiled faintly.

“You’re still weak.”

And then—

Victor pulled the trigger.

The gunshot exploded inside the office.

The guards shouted.

Someone screamed.

Bastian’s body jerked.

Blood spread across his white shirt.

Time seemed to stop.

The glass slipped from Bastian’s hand and shattered against the floor.

Victor stared at him.

Shock filled his eyes.

For a moment…

Neither of them moved.

Bastian looked down at the blood spreading across his chest.

Then he looked back at Victor.

His expression was calm.

Too calm.

“Good shot.”

Victor’s breathing was uneven.

“You…”

Bastian swayed slightly.

Then he collapsed.

The king of the underworld fell to the ground.

Just like that.

Rain continued to fall outside.

The city lights flickered.

And Bastian Devarack died.

Or at least…

That was what should have happened.

Darkness.

Endless.

Silent.

Bastian felt nothing.

No pain.

No body.

No sound.

Just emptiness.

Then suddenly—

A voice echoed.

Cold.

Mechanical.

Emotionless.

“Host detected.”

Bastian opened his eyes.

He found himself standing in a vast white space.

Endless.

Boundless.

A blue screen appeared before him.

Floating in the air.

He stared at it calmly.

“Am I dead?”

The voice responded immediately.

“Yes.”

Bastian nodded slightly.

“I see.”

The screen flickered.

“Identity confirmed.”

Name: Bastian Devarack

Former Occupation: Mafia Boss

Psychological Profile: Ruthless / Logical / Emotionally Detached

Bastian looked around.

“This isn’t hell.”

The voice answered.

“Correct.”

Another screen appeared.

“Welcome to the Villain Evolution System.”

Bastian raised an eyebrow.

“System?”

“Correct.”

“Host has been selected for the Villain Program.”

Bastian crossed his arms.

“And what exactly does that mean?”

The screen changed.

Images began appearing.

Different worlds.

Different people.

Different timelines.

“Host will travel across multiple worlds.”

“Mission: Become the Primary Villain.”

Bastian frowned slightly.

“Villain?”

The voice continued.

“Every world contains a Male Lead destined to become a hero.”

“Heroes require suffering to grow stronger"

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