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

On my knees, still struggling to rise, I watched as Jake began summoning a Card.

To my surprise, it wasn’t his Origin Card.

Instead, he was deploying a long-range Spell Card.

If I had to guess, his plan was to severely hurt me from a safe distance — then jump in for the kill.

Typical.

The coward’s way to play predator.

“You might already know this,” he said as the Spell Card took shape above him in a swirl of light particles, “but I always admired you, Sam. You were just so fearless. Strong. Effortlessly popular. Iron-willed. And most importantly… you were my friend. Or at least — I thought you were.”

He took a slow step backward. “But with you, I always felt like a background character. Like you were the hero, and I was just… there. In your shadow. Because no matter how much spotlight there was, it would never be enough for the great Samael Kaizer Theosbane, right?”

His voice trembled with rage barely held in check. “But I still stayed. Because I thought you were my friend! I helped you conquer the streets of Luxara! I acted as your right hand! I defended you — stood up for you, time and time again — all because you! Were! My! Friend!”

The Spell Card was fully formed now, hovering behind his head.

He extended a hand, palm aimed straight at me.

Wisps of crackling violet energy from around him began to converge into a glowing orb — like a cannonball, if cannonballs were made of unstable plasma.

“But where were you when I needed you?” His voice rose to something raw and bitter. “You didn’t just abandon me… you humiliated me. Humiliated me! And for what? So you could go suck up to that… that peasant orphan?!”

He spat the words like poison and shook his head.

“I loathe you, Sam. You’ve lost your spine. I don’t know where the old you went, but he’d be disgusted by what you’ve become.” Jake snarled. “So I’ll do him a favor… and just kill you.”

As if on cue, the crackling violet orb burst into a focused beam of raw energy and whooshed toward me.

I was still on my knees…

But just before the beam could hit me, I snapped my head up — and the air in front of me wavered like the rippling surface of water.

Then something strange happened.

The beam struck the wavering air — and instead of hitting me, it reflected.

Right back at Jake.

His eyes flew wide in alarm. He barely managed to twist aside as the beam skimmed past his face, nearly blowing his skull off.

The blast slammed into the weathered wall behind him and tore open a hole wide enough to drive a truck through.

You see… while Jake was busy monologuing like every other third-rate cliché villain, I’d quietly deployed one of my own Cards — «Mirrorcloak».

⟨Mirrorcloak: An invisible cloak capable of reflecting a single spell or projectile aimed at the wearer back to the attacker. Needs to be resummoned after one use.⟩

The reason Jake didn’t see me summon it was simple — my back had been pressed against the half-broken column.

And the Card had materialized just behind it.

It was a neat little trick, if I do say so myself.

I could’ve summoned my Origin Card… but I didn’t have enough Essence in me to perform a transmutation.

So I went for the next best option.

Anyway, as soon as Jake was disoriented by his own attack reflecting back on him, I rushed in like a hammer shot from a trebuchet.

He barely had time to regain proper footing before I jumped — and introduced his face to my knee.

A sickening thud rang out as he stumbled back, clutching his broken nose. Blood poured down his face in streams like a faucet left running.

I hit the ground in a roll and immediately sprang forward again.

Jake turned frantically and swung a wild hook.

I ducked under it and drove a punch into the exposed side of his torso.

He grunted in pain and brought his other hand — the one still gripping the obsidian dagger — down in a desperate slash.

But the result didn’t change. I sidestepped the downward strike and slammed my fist into his ribs.

He wheezed — doubling slightly — and I followed up with a swift uppercut to his chin. His head snapped back, more blood spraying from his split lip and fractured nose.

I grabbed his collar and slammed him against the cracked column behind him before letting loose another punch to his gut.

And another.

Each blow echoed like thunder in the hollowed-out ruin.

Jake squirmed, thrashing a knee into my side, but I tanked it, gritting through the pain.

He then tried to stab me — but I caught the dagger mid-thrust. Its edge cut into my palm and drew blood… as I rammed my forehead into his face.

—Crack!

His head whipped sideways — and for a moment, he sagged under the weight of the beating.

But then—

He growled.

And with a flick of a wrist, another pulse of violet light ignited in his free hand.

I noticed the glow a second too late.

—FWOOOM!!

Another blast of crackling energy burst from his palm and struck me.

I was flung back, skidding across the debris-littered floor, coughing as pain flared through my ribs. It wasn’t as strong as the first blast — but it hit clean.

Jake dropped to a knee, panting hard. Blood trailed down his face, mixing with the dirt on his chin.

I stood up first. My body was screaming, every muscle pushed past its limit, but I wasn’t about to let him see that.

Instead, I straightened and rolled my shoulders like the pain was nothing.

Jake immediately began charging another crackling orb of violet energy — but he didn’t fire it recklessly.

He knew I could dodge it at this range and rush him.

So he was simply aiming it at me… holding it as a threat in case I tried to call for my sword again.

I wasn’t worried. And instead took this moment to finally catch my breath.

“Since you claim you helped me conquer the streets of Luxara,” I said, keeping my voice cold, “then tell me… do you remember what they used to call me there?”

Jake didn’t respond.

He just glared.

So I stepped forward. “Say it.”

Still nothing.

My boots crunched closer on the fractured stone.

My voice turned icier. “I said — say it.”

He hesitated.

Then muttered through gritted teeth, “…The Beast.”

“You’re goddamn right! They called me the Beast because I used to leave my enemies bloodied, broken, and begging for mercy that I never granted!” I barked out, laughing bitterly. “You think you were my right hand? My friend? You were nothing but a leech, you fat fuck. A parasite clinging to my wealth, feeding off my victories! I conquered Luxara alone! Me. My fists. My money. I crushed every young Awakened gang in those streets! Anyone who dared to challenge me always ended up groveling at my feet! While you just stood there, basking in the scraps of my glory!”

Jake’s fists clenched, his jaw trembling.

I kept going. “And now look at you. Playing the villain. Crying betrayal. You pathetic fool! You think you’re the first to challenge me when the odds are stacked against me? You think you’re the first to kick me when I’m already down?”

My voice dropped to a low snarl. “I’ve been fighting impossible odds my whole damn life, you worthless pig! I’ve fought terminal illness. Crawled out of crippling depression after my mother killed herself for me. Endured my father’s scorn, my sister’s mockery. I’ve stood against men and monsters twice my size. And I’ve survived traitors who thought they could finish me off when my back was turned.”

I laughed again, no doubt sounding every bit as mocking as I was trying to. “I was born surrounded by enemies. I was raised with a knife to my throat. And every time someone tried to bury me — I clawed my way out and made them choke on the dirt.”

His shoulders started to shake.

“You say you were always in my shadow? Just a background character while I soaked up the spotlight? Well guess what? You’re fucking right! You are nothing, Jake!” I took one last step forward. “And nothing’s all you’ll ever be!”

The words hit him like a hammer to the chest.

His face contorted — an ugly mix of humiliation and hatred — as rage boiled over in his eyes.

Then, like a bull loosed from its cage, he roared — a sound more animal than man — and launched himself at me.

All grace gone.

All precision forgotten.

Just raw, blind fury.

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