Yandere Villainess Will Die!

Two figures stood beneath a towering flower. It had no roots, yet stood as if it did. Its stem was wide, stretching across multiple feet. Strange carvings ran across its length, depicting two people sitting on thrones opposite each other.

On the left was a woman with flowing hair, while a man sat across from her. They were strikingly similar to the two who stood beneath the shade of the crimson petals. Willow, with her long raven hair and eyes, clad in her draconic armor and swirling sword.

Right beside her stood Leonidas. His blonde hair shuddered as he tried very hard to explain something to Willow. His cerulean eyes held a peculiar kind of tiredness, as if he were regretting ever talking Willow into accepting his plan, but still needed her on board.

"For the hundredth time, I can’t start with the damn process until you get into position."

All his words achieved was a disgusted look from Willow.

"And I refuse. How dare you ask a lady to stand beside that hideous thing? I can smell it all the way over here. Imagine how bad it would be close to it."

"I swear...Willow, just shut up and go!"

Leonidas was close to losing his cool. The damn woman had been testing his patience for the past 15 minutes, refusing whatever he said, with the excuse that a lady shouldn’t do unsightly stuff.

Yet Willow still didn’t budge, standing like a statue. It was exceedingly annoying, and the fact that Willow knew it got under his skin just annoyed him more.

Leonidas gave her a murderous look, eyes gleaming with barely restrained fury. However, before he could explode, Willow spoke.

"Oh my! Look at the time, it’s gotten so late. Art, you should hurry, because according to you, a new hell will descend upon our heads in a few hours."

Willow winked at him, grabbed Seridius’s blade, and disappeared in the direction of Fog.

That mother fu—

"Fuu..."

Focus, Leonidas, she’s just trying to get under your skin. You just need to focus. Focus. Focus.

A few breaths later, he managed to regain some of his composure. But the effect of Willow’s...teasings had clearly left its mark on him.

Alright, let’s get to business.

His object was simple: to use the second enchantment [Gleam And Glow]

Leonidas recalled the description.

Free Will: [You possess the power to force things to reach the peak of what they truly are.]

He had felt the first time he had tried getting closer to Fog—before getting beaten up by Willow—and he had noticed it again when his eyes had taken in the Insenium around him, but Fog had a massive amount of Insenium in him...and Leonidas shouldn’t have been able to see Insenium in living beings.

Not exactly like an illusion...but a harmless figurehead.

Just like humans, Pilgrims also possessed a Source Element alongside Edicts. Leonidas’s best guess was that Fog either had the Poison or Sight element, and the figurehead was an application of its Edicts.

The information did little to calm his anxiety, but all information was good information.

All Leonidas had to do now was somehow imagine bringing out the true form of Fog, use his less than half reserves of Insenium, and then pull off his insane plan.

All in a good day’s work.

He closed his eyes, the world around him instantly darkening into a lightless void. A plan had already formed in his mind. He remade the outside world from memory.

Hard ground of rainbow stone, trees of the same color scheme spread around him, sparser than his previous shelter. Slowly, but surely, his imagination became reality, trees forming from thin air, ground forming beneath his feet with every step.

Leonidas’s imaginative body walked forward, nearing where the gash would be located in the real world. But there was no scar. The ground was smooth and even, not a trace of yellow fog in the air.

Leonidas bent down, knees touching the cold stone. Both his hands hovered in the air before he gently touched the stone with them.

He traced a line, hands moving in opposite directions, and then stood. His feet moved a few steps back, and the ground beneath him started rumbling. The rumbling grew louder, yet Leonidas stared ahead calmly.

With a simple thought, his body started hovering, floating just a few inches above, nearly imperceptible. The line he had made had started growing. From a simple mark, it grew deeper and larger, spreading in both directions, eating up the vast body of the spire.

Yellow smoke soon started seeping through the crack, completing the picture.

Now, how do I pull out Fog...Ah!

The answer came before the question was even asked. It was deceptively simple; Leonidas had just needed to look at it from a different angle. More like from below, instead of above.

Fog was a marionette, that much was confirmed, but how did puppets move? Through strings.

Leonidas moved instantly, his mind working despite his pain. His imaginative body moved its hands in dizzying patterns, all the while pulling Insenium from his real body, like a parasite sucking on blood.

More often than not, hands were among the first organs to be used after birth. Humans moved them intuitively, without instruction and support.

Similarly, for Leonidas, the easiest part of the body to imitate was a hand. Massive winds blew through the air as something enormous formed in the air.

The world beneath Leonidas rippled like water disturbed by a stone, ripples forming in reality itself. Parts of the world dissipated, as if they had never existed.

All the while, the two objects forming in the air gained shape and mass. From harmless specks of light, bones formed, followed by muscle. Nerves threaded themselves through the muscles and bones, knitting them together. Skin followed, glowing and unblemished, pink like a newborn baby.

Leonidas wiped a line of sweat from his forehead, staring at his handiwork.

Leonidas hoped to kill himself. His Insenium reserves were near depleted, his heart was beating like he had ran a marathon, and his mind ached in pain, throbbing with growing headaches.

Leonidas would have opened his eyes if he could; his desire to massage his head ran rampant, but he held on with nothing but sheer will.

Let’s get this over with.

He moved his imaginative arms, and the titanic hands in the air followed. They floated forward, stopping right above the gash. They were in position; all he needed to do was give a mental order, and they would start pulling at the fog.

As simple as the process sounded, it was by far the hardest part. Not only did he have to actively move in the imaginative world, but he also had to keep an eye on the real Fog.

"Sigh..."

I really need to sleep.