Villain Ch 319. Godlike’s Dark Side

Vivian’s gaze remained fixed on Elio as he gallantly attempted to guide the intoxicated Sophia toward the exit.

“It seems he has a hobby of blaming you for all his troubles,” Vivian remarked, her voice carrying a hint of accusation. Her observation wasn’t without merit, for Allen had been drawn into the midst between Sophia’s chaotic emotions and Elio’s hero complexity, often caught in the crossfire.

“Well, a villain is a perfect scapegoat,” he retorted, as if unraveling the psychology behind Elio’s actions. “They need it so they feel better, so they feel they are the hero of their own stories.” Allen’s response was measured, a touch of cynicism tainting his otherwise calm demeanor.

Vivian’s eyes held a glint of curiosity as she sought to understand the complex dynamics at play. “But they are actually just the side story of their own story, right?” she questioned, her words tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Allen’s laughter rang out, a warm sound that echoed in the depths of Vivian’s soul. “No, Vivian. No one will ever be a side character in their own story,” he replied with a gentle smile. His words held profound wisdom, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to the sincerity in his gaze.

“All of us are the protagonists of our own lives,” he continued, his voice soft yet resolute. “What differentiates us is what kind of genre we are writing,”

“What an interesting point of view,” Vivian mused, her eyes alight with curiosity and wonder. “I never thought about it that way before,” she admitted, a tinge of excitement in her voice.

Once again, she leaned towards Allen, her heart open to the enigmatic truths he seemed to hold. “If this is a story, what kind of genre are you writing, Allen?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the notion that life itself could be akin to a tale with its own unique genre.

Allen’s eyes glimmered with a hint of contemplation as he pondered Vivian’s question. For a moment, there was a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability in his gaze, as if the question had stirred something deep within him.

Then, unexpectedly, his expression shifted, and his eyes grew cold – a sharp contrast to the warmth they had held moments ago. “Revenge,” he replied, his voice taking on a cold and determined edge.

“Is it because you want to teach Sophia a lesson?” Vivian probed gently, sensing that there was more to Allen’s desire for revenge than met the eye.

He held her gaze steadily, his expression revealing the complexity of his feelings. “No, it’s not just about Sophia or Elio,” he confessed, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “This is because I want to get what I couldn’t get before. I want to claim what I let go in the past,” he revealed, leaving Vivian to wonder about the depths of his motivations.

Her mind raced with questions, eager to unravel the mystery that surrounded Allen’s past. “Do you mean the tournament?” she inquired, attempting to piece together the fragments of his history.

A shadow of regret crossed Allen’s features as he reminisced about the past. “Yes,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. ” I won, but soon after my victory, I fell into a dark period in my life, struggling with personal demons,” he admitted with a heavy sigh.

Vivian couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, realizing that his moment of triumph had been tainted by inner turmoil. “So, you decided to step aside?” she probed further, sensing that there was more to the story.

He nodded solemnly, his eyes reflecting the weight of his choices. “Yes. I knew showing myself in such a state would only tarnish my own reputation, and I didn’t want to bring shame to myself,” he explained, his voice tinged with regret and bitterness.

“Is that the reason why you never used that nickname again?” Vivian’s voice was soft, filled with empathy. She sensed that there was more to the story behind his alter ego, the once revered “Godlike.”

Allen’s smile was tinged with bitterness, his eyes reflecting the ghosts of the past. “I don’t use it anymore,” he confessed, his voice carrying a note of sorrow. “Because Godlike was dead two years ago, after his trust was destroyed.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving Vivian to absorb the gravity of his confession. She could sense the pain that lingered beneath the surface, the remnants of a past that had shaped the man before her.

“What’s left… only Azazel,” he concluded, his voice tinged with resignation. The revelation of his game identity, the name he now embraced, spoke volumes about the metamorphosis he had undergone.

“So simply, Azazel is Godlike’s dark side,” she mused, her eyes locked onto Allen’s, searching for the truth hidden within his soul. Vivian’s words hung in the air like a delicate wisp of smoke, her voice filled with curiosity and understanding.

He smiled wistfully, a hint of sadness flickering in his gaze. “More and less,” he whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the pulsing music and the murmurs of the guests around them.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Allen brought his face closer to hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Vivian’s heart fluttered with anticipation, her senses heightened by the electrifying connection that seemed to bind them together.

But instead of closing the gap between their lips, Allen paused, hovering tantalizingly close, teasing her with the promise of a kiss. His gaze bore into hers, as if trying to convey a thousand unspoken words in that single moment.

Vivian’s voice was barely a whisper as she leaned in, her breath mingling with Allen’s. “I think we need a room,” she murmured, her eyes locked onto his with a fiery intensity. The desire that simmered beneath the surface was undeniable, an unspoken connection that ignited like a blazing inferno.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Allen’s lips as he mirrored her sentiment. “I agree. Let’s get out of here,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a hint of mischief.