Yandere Villainess Will Die!

Shock...it was a word that could describe many different states of a person.

Shocked by happiness, stunned by disbelief, frozen solid by the sheer audacity of an arrogant prick.

But one thing all of these shared in common was the fact that the person experiencing them would freeze, their minds halting as they tried to gather the facts and piece together a coherent story, hoping, praying for a way to encompass the disbelief in their minds.

Leonidas was currently feeling the second one...disbelief. His mouth hung open, his body perfectly fine in the imagination of his phosphene space, which had partially unfolded the moment the message from the Labyrinth had revealed itself.

What in the good name of coherence?

His phosphene space unfolding without permission was weird enough, but to see the Labyrinth speaking to him for anything other than matters that related to his ascension...it was definitely food for thought.

What do I do...?

He didn’t have a choice; that much was sure. Both his options were ’yes.’

Instead of wasting time on a predetermined fate, I should rather focus on surviving till I get there...or it comes to me.

Naturally, he assumed that the Sanctum of Sacrifice was the best bet he could make...death was waiting for him in every other path.

Leonidas pushed away the partially formed phosphene space—the silver and golden seas drifting high above, clouds floating beneath his feet. Nothing else had unfolded, and the seas and clouds were also receding, crumbling into the black void.

The whole process, from the moment he had appeared in the lightless void, till now, had taken less than four seconds.

Leonidas opened his eyes, and the pain he had been ignoring assaulted him once more.

Ahh...right. I’m crippled...what use am I?

He was submerged in blood, with injuries so horrific they would have forced anyone to pass out. Yet he still stood, his will solid...but still shaken.

Focus! I need to focus...otherwise I’m not making it out of here.

Cripple or not, life was precious...if at times painful. A gem was only truly valued because they were rare; it was the same with life.

It was only precious because of all the suffering it came with. Leonidas glanced at Toothpick, the beast too preoccupied to acknowledge his new resolve. Hope, it seemed, could revive even the smallest of wills.

A massive temple stood before Toothpick, daunting even his colossal figure, stretching far above the tree line, having pierced the blanket of branches with ease.

Sharp, jagged towers rose, ending in vertical slits, like those of a spear. At the center, near the entrance, sat a massive circular pavilion, shrouded entirely in eerie crimson light. A winding staircase connected to the base of the pavilion, a black so smooth it gleamed like a clear lake.

A symbol was carved into the very center of the temple, right above the metal gate that served as the entrance.

A man bound with chains, as if God himself had struck him down.

Leonidas had seen the symbol before...on the wheels of a caravan in his Bloom vision. Leonidas forced himself away from the connection and instead focused on the battle Toothpick was involved in.

The pilgrim was fighting with all his might, using his claws, feet, teeth, and head, bashing and slashing the sentry that stood unmoving under his assault.

A statue, as tall as Toothpick himself, armed with an obsidian longsword—same color as the temple itself.

She wore a full suit of black armor, the metal covering every inch of her titanic body. Her eyes...a boundless well of despair, deeper than the void, darker than the abyss, swirling with faint traces of madness.

She wielded her blade with a mastery Leonidas could only imagine, moving with grace, like a river of onyx. She parried Toothpick’s left paw, which met her sword in a hurricane of sparks.

The statue woman let it drag and slam into the ground, while she kicked him, the force making the forest shake.

Of course, Toothpick was by no means a pushover. The damned pilgrim just shook the attack off, as if it was nothing but a minor inconvenience.

Holy hell!

Leonidas was struggling to stay awake in the harrowing force of each assault, and yet here they were, shrugging off attacks that could turn him into paste.

Toothpick opened his mouth, a guttural scream escaping it as he howled. The woman advanced, unbothered.

Her right hand became a blur, whipping straight for his cheek, while her sword descended with the other. Toothpick crossed his colossal paws, and tanked the hit, a faint creak of cracking metal reaching Leonidas’s ear.

Despite the drowning cacophony of the dreadful clash, Leonidas was smiling from ear to ear. Watching someone you believed unbeatable was a feeling he very much welcomed.

All she needs to do is win... otherwise I’m dead.

Like she could read his thoughts, the statue woman suddenly accelerated, breaking the sound barrier with a massive boom, and swung her hands, which were coiled together like a hammer.

Since sharp edges were not working, she would just crack open the damned beast...or so Leonidas thought she was thinking.

Personally, he approved.

The flow of the battle had shifted. Toothpick’s body was like a forest of blades; as such, fighting him with a blade would get no one anywhere, not unless they could cleave the metal off his body.

So the statue woman chose hand-to-hand, punching and kicking the hateful pilgrim. Her hands were guns, breaking the sound barrier with each strike, cracking the nebulous carapace of the smoking beast.

Her legs, meanwhile...they were another story. While Toothpick could somewhat tank the force behind her punches, he could do nothing against her legs. Everytime the statue woman kicked him, he would slam into the walls of the temple.

As if sensing its inevitable death, the beast rushed at the woman in a final gamble. It ran on all fours, like a charging bull.

The woman shifted on her feet, and jumped just before the stupid pilgrim reached her.

She flew and flew until he could no longer see her. The beast was just as confused as Leonidas, when all of a sudden something slammed into him with enough force to make even the temple—the one that had withstood their harrowing exchange without so much as a creak—quake.

Shards of metal scattered across the forest with frightening speed, but thankfully, all of them landed away from Leonidas.

Toothpick was dead, and the woman turned to stare at Leonidas. Her eyes bore into his with cruel indifference, then she slowly beckoned him forward, head tilting to match the motion.

Time to go, I guess.

Leonidas stood...or at least tried to, but then remembered he didn’t have legs. How the hell was he even alive with all the blood loss?

Oh brother.