Maybe I really am a Villian

Asher’s POV

When does a person truly die?

Is it when the body stops functioning?

Or when people forget you?

To me, it’s neither.

I believe I die the moment I forget who I am—and that terrifies me more than anything.

After the accident, as I was slowly dying, I had no regrets. I had already figured out how I wanted to live, and I had lived that way. But after my body stopped working, I found myself in darkness.

At first, my soul felt calm... tranquil.

But then—

I began to forget myself.

That was the most dreadful experience of my existence. There was no pain, yet the fear was overwhelming.

I tried desperately to hold on to my identity. I don’t know how long that lasted—time didn’t seem to exist there.

And then—

I was reborn as Asher.

My first year in this new life was the worst experience I’ve ever had.

No control over my body. Only instinct.

But something else had changed.

I could sense myself—not just my body, but my consciousness... and even my soul.

That’s why I began studying biology and healing magic.

There was something I wanted to test.

On Earth, when someone dies, their body stops healing and eventually decays.

But in this world, healing magic can regenerate a body and even prevent it from rotting.

Of course, the person still remains dead—without a soul or consciousness.

But I wanted to try something else.

What if I shared a part of my consciousness with a corpse?

So I experimented.

I started small—with insects like ants, so no one would notice anything strange.

It worked.

But it wasn’t pleasant.

Living inside a body that wasn’t truly mine felt alien... unnatural. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

And it didn’t last long. The body couldn’t handle my consciousness and died again.

That’s when I understood—

If the vessel is too weak, it cannot sustain me.

After that, I focused on improving my magic and swordsmanship.

Eventually, I learned a spell called Clone—a technique that creates a copy of oneself, though only as a mana construct without a real body.

That gave me an idea.

What if I created a real body using healing magic... and then transferred my consciousness into it?

I tried it.

And it worked.

The body was real, but it lacked a mana core at first. However, it could cultivate.

That made it a success.

This clone also shared my soul through my consciousness.

As long as one vessel survived—

I would live.

Still, I destroyed that clone, leaving only its corpse behind.

Creating a body wasn’t even that difficult.

If you take a fragment—like a finger—and supply it with enough mana, it can regenerate into a full body.

No one does it, of course.

Unless they have some... disturbing obsession with corpses.

Most of my time after that was spent learning spatial magic.

Not for combat—

But to escape.

At my Iron Rank, I couldn’t leave the estate unnoticed.

But what about a Platinum Rank body?

When I turned ten, I requested a personal lab and access to corpses for healing practice.

It wasn’t suspicious. After all, healing magic is best learned through practice—either on yourself or on corpses. And no sane person would harm their own body just to train.

The higher the rank of the body, the more mana it takes to heal.

Eventually, I received the corpse of a Platinum Rank knight.

It took me three weeks—with my Bronze Rank mana—to fully restore it.It was really exhausting.

Once it was complete, I checked my surroundings.

Only two knights stood guard outside—both at Peak Gold Rank.

They wouldn’t sense anything.

So I possessed the corpse.

It came to life.

I suppressed my presence as much as I can and located the eagle I had possessed long ago—my escape marker.

It was about 20 kilometers away, deep in a forest.

Using spatial magic, I teleported there.

That was the beginning of my plan—

To live freely.

And to escape the fear of death.

If you think this ability is overpowered—

You’re both right and wrong.

It doesn’t make me invincible.

It just makes me hard to kill.

Like a cockroach.

I gain the vessel and its mana core—but not its skills or experience.

Though... I do inherit fragments of their memories.

But numbers mean nothing against true power.

A Master Rank mage can control their element with unimaginable precision.

Take my father—he’s a Grandmaster who can cut space itself.

Against someone like that, what does quantity matter?

Only another Grandmaster can fight a Grandmaster—except in rare cases of extraordinary talent.

Grandmasters possess domains.

As for Immortals—

They are monsters. Even if you cut off their heads, they regenerate as long as they have mana.

Saints?

They are practically gods—capable of bending the world to their will.

Meanwhile, I lived peacefully.

Training. Playing online games. Eating good food.

While my brothers attended banquets, building alliances with nobles to secure their position as heir.

I had no interest in any of that.

Why would I want power that comes with chains?

I never celebrated my birthday with nobles either.

Why would I spend time with children wearing fake smiles?

Now, I’m thirteen.

No one even invites me to parties anymore.

And I like it that way.

Peaceful.

But peace never lasts.

On 8 November 2067—

I was poisoned.

By the maid responsible for my meals.

One of my vessels died.

My Platinum Rank vessel sensed it immediately.

I teleported to the dead body—

—and killed the maid, who was only Silver Rank, 3-star.

After dealing with the situation, I disposed of the corpse.

Then I summoned another prepared body—one of my clones—with nearly the same rank.

As for teleportation—

You can teleport to any location as long as you have left a mana mark there... or know the exact coordinates.

The problem is, marks can be erased.

But for me—

Every vessel acts as a marker.

"Where the hell are the guards who were supposed to protect me?" I muttered in annoyance.

This was clearly planned.

Either the guards were sent away...

—or they were involved.

Living peacefully is impossible in a world where someone stronger can decide your fate at any moment.

I really need to train more.

I can’t afford to keep losing vessels like this.

Right now, I can only control up to ten vessels at once.

Any more... and my brain overloads from the information.

As for the mastermind behind this attack—

They have to die.