Villain: The Creator's Revolt

Chapter 1: The Collapse of the Building

Late at night, the final light in the office flickered beneath a massive banner hanging on the wall. Sean, his bloodshot eyes barely open, leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Finally finished… the last supporting character."

He stared at the screen, where a colossal cybernetic figure wielding a gold-plated chainsaw stood in the modeling software. The name tag read: Sheryl-0.

But instead of feeling satisfaction, Sean only felt exhaustion. He exhaled heavily, sending a silent prayer to the game's servers.

Wasteland: Rise of a New World—a large-scale sci-fi ARPG his company had developed—was already making waves. It boasted millions of words of branching storylines, deep world-building, and intricate gameplay mechanics. Even though it was still in beta, sales had exploded, and early reviews were overwhelmingly positive.

Then, the higher-ups got greedy.

They pushed a disastrous first update, nerfing gameplay balance and cramming in overpriced microtransactions. The backlash was immediate. If it weren't for die-hard fans of Three Kingdoms Kill supporting them, their game would've topped the worst-reviewed charts.

Desperate to salvage their reputation—and their profits—the company scrapped the in-game purchases and cranked up development speed. As a senior developer, Sean had no escape from the overtime crunch.

"Once I finish this, I'm adding that restricted mod as a little reward for myself..."

The thought made him smile, but fatigue won. His head tilted back, and sleep took him.

---

A Strange Awakening

A distant rumble of thunder. The rhythmic patter of rain.

Sean's senses stirred. A strange, pungent smell tickled his nose.

"Ugh… Is the company cat pissing in the ashtray again?"

His neck felt heavy—like something was draped over it.

"That dumb cat… did it throw its legs over my head again?"

Still half-asleep, he reached up to push it away.

His fingers touched something soft. Cold.

His eyes snapped open.

His vision was filled with a smooth, pale back, framed by cascading burgundy hair. The strands tickled his nose, making it itch. His sluggish mind struggled to process what he was seeing.

"Wait… am I not at the office? Did a catgirl come to reward me…?"

Then, he saw it—the ghost-mask tattoo between her shoulder blades.

Familiar.

But that wasn't what mattered.

The scent—the metallic tang in the air—grew stronger.

Sean shifted slightly, his gaze drifting downward.

His pupils shrank.

Right at his waist, half of the woman's body was missing. A gory mess of torn flesh and spilled organs covered the sheets.

The hand that had been resting on his neck slid limply to the side.

She was dead.

A bolt of adrenaline shot through him. He scrambled back, heart pounding, only now registering the horrific scene around him.

He was in an unfamiliar bedroom, the pink ceiling lamp above flickering weakly. The large floor-to-ceiling window was shattered, rain and wind pouring inside, carrying the sour stench of decay.

Thunder roared, and for a split second, lightning illuminated the room.

That's when he saw her.

By the broken window sat a woman—a haunting, statuesque figure bathed in the glow of the storm.

She was motionless, one leg draped carelessly over the shattered glass, the other dangling over the void outside.

Long, pure white hair cascaded down her shoulders, dampened by the rain. Her face, smooth and eerily serene, barely moved as she toyed with a small, metallic sphere that pulsed with faint blue light.

Her ruby-like eyes flicked toward Sean.

Cold. Calculating.

Sean, frozen in place, struggled to breathe. His trembling hands instinctively reached around, grasping at something—a dagger buried in the pile of disheveled clothes beside him.

He gripped it tightly.

His mind raced. Did she do this?

Yet, she made no move to attack. In fact, the way she tilted her head slightly, gazing at him with mild curiosity, almost made it seem like… she was waiting.

Then—

A sudden whistling noise tore through the air, like a jet engine screaming into the night.

The woman raised her hand.

The metallic sphere in her palm flashed blue—and everything stopped.

The rain. The wind. The shattered glass.

Even Sean himself was suspended mid-air.

Floating. Frozen.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears as bullets, suspended in motion, hung inches from his face.

And then—

The moment gravity returned, the wall beside him exploded.

A three-meter-tall behemoth wielding a gold-plated chainsaw barreled into the room, roaring like an enraged beast.

Sean's breath caught in his throat.

It was Sheryl-0.

The final boss. His own creation.

But before he could react, the white-haired woman finally moved.

She glanced at the giant.

A single flicker of blue light.

And then—

A clean line of blood traced down the behemoth's arm.

His limb—along with the chainsaw—fell to the ground.

Yet, Sheryl-0 did not stop.

With a guttural growl, he tore off his own metal-plated jaw.

His flesh wriggled, pulsating grotesquely. His already massive body began to grow.

At the same time—

A sickening, wet crackle echoed from the bed.

Sean turned just in time to see the bisected woman start to move.

Her dismembered organs slithered back into place as her body stitched itself together in a grotesque display.

Her lips curled into a manic grin. Jagged nails extended from her fingertips.

Then—she lunged.

From both sides, they charged at the woman by the window.

For the first time, Sean saw her expression shift.

A smirk.

She tilted her head.

Without thinking, Sean mimicked her movement.

A blinding burst of blue light erupted.

A split second of stillness.

Then—

Blood sprayed.

Sheryl-0 and the woman collapsed—cut into four clean pieces.

Behind them, half of the building tilted at the same eerie angle as the woman's head—then slid downward, collapsing into the storm below.

Rain poured harder.

Amidst the wreckage, Sheryl-0's severed upper body twitched. His rapidly dimming eyes turned toward Sean.

His trembling, blood-soaked fingers pointed toward the half-open door.

Through the howling wind, Sean barely caught the hoarse whisper from his lips:

"Cheryl…"

Sean's breath hitched. His lips parted slightly.

"What… the hell is happening?"