The Villainous Noble Regressed With The Villain System
Chapter 52: Trust Of The Broken Scale

Chapter 52: Trust Of The Broken Scale

Aemar stood silently as I watched the mermaid city flicker beneath the sea. It looked broken. Cracked towers, fading lights, dark smoke rising from the coral streets.

"Promise me," he said. "Promise that you’ll save Alune. One day. When that happens, the sword will unlock. Not before."

I stayed quiet for a moment, watching the image fade into the water.

A promise without a time limit. No clear reward. I didn’t like that.

"I get what you’re asking," I said. "But if I’m going to risk my life for a kingdom I’ve never seen, I want something in return."

Aemar raised an eyebrow. "You’re not in a position to ask."

"But I’m the only one here," I said calmly. "And I might be your last hope."

He didn’t reply. I knew I was right.

"I don’t want power," I continued. "I want access. Let me enter your territory—what you call the God’s Territory."

His face changed instantly. The sea around us darkened. The sky turned dim. Even the birds flying overhead stopped in the air, frozen like statues.

"...You don’t know what you’re asking for."

"I don’t," I agreed. "That’s why I need to see it."

Aemar stepped closer. His voice dropped, quiet and serious. "The God’s Territory is not a place made for you. It’s not a paradise. It’s not a place of treasures or secrets. It’s a scar."

He looked out at the sea, his eyes distant.

"It’s what was left behind after the First Collapse. Do you know why mortals never travel beyond their continents? Why every ship that goes too far vanishes? It’s because something out there doesn’t allow it."

"A barrier?" I asked.

"No," he said. "A grave. The place where the worst things were buried. Even we—gods—fear it."

That was all I needed to know.

If even gods were afraid of it, then it must be valuable. It might hold answers I need. Clues to why the world repeats. Maybe even the truth behind the regressions.

"I don’t want to go there now," I told him. "Just let me go when the time comes. Give me the right to call for the gate when I’m ready."

He didn’t answer.

So I pushed harder.

"If I die before saving Alune, your sword will stay useless. Your people will be gone. Maybe the next version of me—if one comes at all—won’t be strong enough. Or willing."

His silence told me he was listening.

"You said the sword only activates if I save them. Then help me get to that point. Let me prepare. Let me see what lies beyond."

Still, he didn’t move. But I saw it in his eyes—hesitation.

"And if Alune falls, the mermaids go extinct. No one left to carry your name. You’ll just drift in silence, forgotten."

Aemar looked down.

"You use fear like a blade," he said quietly.

"I use it because it works. Even on gods."

He was quiet for a long time. Then he spoke again.

"If I let you call for that gate, it will be only once. No more. You will not survive it unless you are ready."

"I understand."

He lifted his hand. A small drop of silver water floated in the air. Inside, a glowing symbol moved slowly, like smoke trapped in glass.

It floated toward me and vanished into my skin.

"When the time comes, speak the name hidden in that symbol," he said. "Only then will the gate appear. But speak it with care. If you say it by mistake, even I won’t be able to stop what comes out."

"I don’t play around," I replied.

"No," he said. "You don’t."

Another light appeared, glowing on my wrist—the shape of a broken scale. The second trial was complete.

"The sword will remain broken," Aemar said, "until the day Alune is saved. Not before."

The sea began to darken again. The sky returned to normal.

And Aemar’s figure slowly faded.

---

I opened my eyes in the chamber. The ruins were quiet. Dulhard was still sleeping beside the altar, snoring lightly.

I looked down at my wrist. The second mark shimmered softly.

Two trials complete.

One more to go.

And now... I had something that no one else had ever been given.

A path to the place even gods feared.

***

Valerys sat alone in her chamber, the oil lamp burning low beside a stack of scattered reports. Her fingers lightly tapped the edge of the parchment—her eyes unmoving from the list that shouldn’t exist.

One hundred ninety-nine.

But only 197 students had entered the dungeon.

That was the official count.

No matter how many times she cross-checked the records, it didn’t change. Two students—no names, no faces, no official entries—had come out alive.

"I was there when they crossed," she whispered. "Only 197."

It wasn’t just a mistake. She could feel it. Something else had slipped through—something beyond the rules of the trial.

The Student Council had chalked it up to a clerical error. Even Alicia had gone quiet about it, unusually so. But Valerys knew better.

She stood up, pulled on a hooded cloak, and snuffed the lamp. If she wanted answers, she had to seek them outside the system.

Outside the walls.

---

The alleyways of the lower districts always smelled of rain and smoke, even on dry nights. Lanterns hung low, dim and flickering, their flames swallowing shadows rather than banishing them. Valerys moved with practiced silence, her steps quick, her eyes scanning.

She turned into a narrow gap between two workshops—an unmarked corridor where the walls closed in just enough to dissuade most.

But she wasn’t most.

At the very end stood a crooked door with three faint claw marks on the wood. A signal. The one used by her contact.

She tapped it twice.

Silence.

Then the door opened. A hooded man stood there, hunched and shadow-faced.

"You’re late," he rasped.

"You’re lucky I came at all," she replied.

He stepped aside, letting her in. The room beyond was small, lit by a single flame inside a glass box. Maps, scrolls, old ledgers—these were her informant’s trade.

"I need answers," she said. "Two extra students. They weren’t on the entry list. They came out alive."

The man didn’t react. He merely moved behind a table and pulled out a scroll.

"I thought you’d ask." He placed it on the table. "But it’s not what you think."

Before Valerys could respond, a sudden movement came from behind her.

Two shadows. No—three.

Cloaked figures emerged from the back of the room like smoke slipping through the cracks. Her eyes darted to the door. It was gone. Or perhaps it had never been real.

"What is this?" she hissed, stepping back. Her hand moved to the dagger beneath her coat.

"Calm yourself, Valerys," said the informer. "You’ve seen too much. And not enough."

One of the cloaked figures raised an arm. A long, metallic instrument—a needle-like spike carved with unfamiliar runes—gleamed in the dim light.

She spun, about to strike—but she was too late.

The spike plunged toward her forehead.

A whisper filled the room. Not spoken, but felt.

"All hail the Night King."

Pain exploded behind her eyes.

The last thing she saw was the informer’s face—calm, reverent—as if he were watching the return of something sacred.

Then everything went dark.

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Author’s Note :

Please comment down your thoughts as it gives me motivation to write further.

Next - Eyes, Shadows, And The Light

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