Villain With The Absolute Evil Sytem
Chapter 54 - 52 : Well Shit

Chapter 54: Chapter 52 : Well Shit

Shirley’s hand was drenched in red.

She didn’t know how many she had killed.

She didn’t care.

The knife in her grip dripped with warm blood, its handle sticky against her palm. Her mask that was once pristine white was now stained in splashes of crimson.

It should’ve been heavy.

The weight of her actions.

The lives she had taken.

But instead—

She felt light.

So light.

Every time she tore through flesh, every time she ended a life, she felt something something inside her uncoil

Maybe it was years of pain unraveling.

Maybe it was Lumian’s influence.

Or maybe,

Maybe she had always been like this.

A monster waiting to be unchained.

Shirley exhaled, tilting her head as she watched the last boy in the locker room claw at the floor, leaving behind bloody smears of where his nails had once been.

He wasn’t screaming anymore.

Good.

Shirley hated when they screamed. Too much noise.

She had driven her fingers into his back and pulled something important out. His spine, maybe? Or was it his ribs?

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the silence.

The sweet, perfect silence.

The only sound was the steady drip of blood from her fingertips.

"Ahh..." She let out a slow breath, staring at the mess she had made.

It was beautiful.

She had never felt more alive.

’More. More!!’

Something whispered in the back of her mind.

She exhaled, shaking her head.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except this moment.

This bloodshed.

This chaos.

And speaking of chaos

She turned and strolled out of the locker room, stepping over bodies like they were nothing more than discarded trash.

You couldn’t tell the school apart from a slaughterhouse now.

A beautiful, terrible slaughterhouse.

—-

Up on the rooftop, Lumian sat on the edge, watching the massacre unfold below.

His golden eyes gleamed in amusement as the system alerts continued to flood in.

[ You have gained 500 CT ]

[ You have gained 800 CT ]

[ You have gained 1200 CT ]

It was a beautiful sight.

Shirley was doing so well.

The chaos, the carnage, the sheer brutality—

It was art.

And yet...

Lumian sighed, twirling a lollipop in his mouth.

"I’m getting bored."

He wanted to play too, join in on the fun.

But he couldn’t interfere directly.

Not when the Vanguard had their eyes on him.

Not when there was still so much left to be done.

His gaze flickered toward the school gates, where a handful of students had managed to escape Shirley’s wrath.

They were running.

Desperate.

Clawing at their last hope of survival.

Their hands outstretched toward the open gates, toward freedom.

Lumian smirked.

Not so fast.

The first student, a lanky boy with a torn uniform, was just about to cross the threshold when—

His body went limp.

He collapsed mid-stride, face-first onto the pavement.

The students behind him stopped in horror.

"What the hell?!" one of them screamed.

But the ones at the back—too blinded by fear—kept running.

And one by one—

They dropped.

Like puppets whose strings had been cut.

Their bodies lay motionless, mere inches from freedom.

But to the ordinary eye—

It looked like they had simply collapsed from exhaustion.

From shock.

From fear.

But in reality, it was Lumian who Killed them. He moved so fast that they couldn’t even perceive the slightest hint of him.

Lumian chuckled, enjoying the spectacle.

Some of the surviving students hesitated, stepping back, uncertain.

Then sirens wailed in the distance.

Flashing lights painted the streets in red and blue.

The police.

The ambulances.

The first responders were coming.

But as soon as the first officer stepped forward—

He fell.

Dead.

One by one, every cop that tried to cross the threshold collapsed.

Lumian had sealed off their escape route.

He had cut them off from their last hope of survival.

And hidden from sight, he laughed.

It was hilarious.

A twisted comedy.

A cruel joke.

These people were so desperate, so hopeful—

Only to have it all snatched away in an instant.

But then his laughter stopped.

He felt a presence.

A familiar presence.

His smirk faded and his golden eyes narrowed.

He turned his gaze toward the school gate, where a figure stepped forward.

A towering man.

Stoic.

Unshaken.

His presence alone sent a ripple through the air, heavy and suffocating and at the same time it gave them hope, like a true Hero.

Voltstrike could learn a thing or two from him

The students—who had moments ago been drowning in despair—

Perked up.

Because this man...

This hero...

Had arrived.

Reinhardt Vale.

Lumian clicked his tongue.

"Shit."

He knew that look.

That unwavering determination.

That iron-clad resolve.

Reinhardt wasn’t just here to help. That was the look of someone who was there to end things, afterall they were countless dead children.

He wasn’t smiling as there was nothing for him to smile about.

Lumian scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair.

Playtime’s over.

He stood up, stretching his limbs.

It was a shame, really.

He had been having so much fun.

But Reinhardt’s arrival changed things, he could put an end to their debacle in a few moments.

The massacre had reached its peak.

There was no point in dragging it out any longer.

Lumian turned, his figure blurring as he vanished from the rooftop.

His voice was no louder than a whisper—hung in the air.

"Time to leave."

And with that he disappeared into the school, searching for Shirley.

The halls were a graveyard.

Corpses were scattered like discarded dolls, some slumped against the walls, others piled on top of each other in grotesque heaps. The smell of blood was suffocating, thick and metallic, clinging to the air like a second skin.

But for Lumian, this was nothing.

He strolled through the carnage with ease, stepping over bodies without so much as a glance. His boots left faint red prints in their wake, the only evidence that he had been here at all.

He wasn’t searching blindly.

He knew exactly where to go.

It was instinctive, like a thread pulling him toward her.

He turned a corner, stepping into a blood-soaked classroom and there she was.

Shirley.

Hunched over a student.

Her arm moved in a frenzied blur, the knife in her grip plunging into flesh over and over again.

The boy beneath her had long since stopped screaming.

His body twitched, then stilled, his blood pooling beneath him in a crimson lake.

Shirley didn’t stop.

Didn’t hesitate.

She kept stabbing, over and over, like she was trying to carve out something *deeper* than just flesh.

Lumian watched, amused.

"My, my," he mused, leaning against the doorframe. "Someone’s really letting loose, huh?"

Shirley froze.

Her head snapped up, her breath heavy behind the blood-streaked rabbit mask.

"...Lumian?" Her voice was hoarse, her body trembling from exertion.

Lumian grinned. "Who else would it be?"

She exhaled, her grip on the knife tightening.

"Come on, Bunny." He cocked his head. "We gotta go."

Shirley frowned. "No. There are still people left." She wiped her bloodied hands on her uniform, smearing red across her already ruined clothes. "More to kill."

Lumian’s grin didn’t waver, but his tone sharpened.

"We’re leaving now."

Shirley narrowed her eyes. "I’m not done—"

"If you stay," Lumian cut her off, "you’ll end up just like them."

He gestured at the corpses littering the floor.

Shirley hesitated.

Her breath was ragged.

Her fingers twitched.

She wanted more.

But something in Lumian’s tone made her pause.

His usual playfulness was still there, but underneath it there was something serious.

Something final.

Reluctantly, she exhaled through her nose and muttered, "Fine."

"Good girl." Lumian grabbed her wrist and pulled her along.

They moved swiftly through the halls, weaving through the aftermath of Shirley’s rampage.

Then,

BOOM

The entire building shook

A deafening explosion sent dust and debris flying through the corridor.

Lumian and Shirley staggered, shielding their faces as the force rattled their bones.

As the dust settled, a figure emerged from the destruction.

A towering presence.

Unshaken.

Unyielding.

Reinhardt.

His broad frame was backlit by the afternoon sun streaming through the shattered walls. His silhouette was rigid, his coat billowing slightly from the force of his own entry.

His face though calm was unreadable.

His eyes, however burned in anger

Lumian reacted instantly.

He slipped on a mask in one fluid motion, tightening his grip on Shirley.

"Time to go."

He bolted.

They barely made it five steps before Reinhardt moved.

One moment, he was standing at the entrance.

And the next

He was there.

Directly in front of them.

Lumian skidded to a halt, his golden eyes widening slightly behind his mask.

Fast.

Too fast.

Reinhardt’s fists clenched at his sides.

He took a slow step forward, his voice steady.

"So much bloodshed." His gaze swept over the massacre, then landed on them. "Blood of children, even."

His voice hardened.

"You will not escape."

Silence.

A thick, suffocating silence.

Lumian’s lips curled into a grin beneath his mask.

"Well, shit."