Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

She couldn’t move.

Her leg had given out minutes ago — maybe more, maybe less, she couldn’t tell. Time felt stretched and twisted inside the haze of smoke and screams.

Her rapier was still in hand, bloodied and cracked.

Her stance was broken, and her body refused to rise.

A deep gash was carved across her calf, bleeding steadily.

Every breath hurt. Her ribs stung. Her vision danced between sharp and blurred.

The monster in front of her — a grotesque thing with mantis claws and a scorpion’s stinger — loomed overhead.

It clicked its sharp limbs together like it was enjoying the sight of its fallen prey. Lava dripped from its spiky tail. Its obsidian shell steamed in the air, covered in cracks that pulsed like veins of molten light.

Juliana stared up at it with her dull, unblinking blue eyes.

She wasn’t afraid.

Not because she was brave.

But because emotions like anxiety or fear — or much of any other emotion in general — were rare for her.

She had already fought and slain too many beasts. Watched too many Cadets die like insects around her.

Still, like none of it had any effect on her whatsoever, she raised her sword.

…And just as the monster raised its red-hot scythe-claw—

—Fwoosh!

Something grabbed her.

Too fast.

Too sudden.

A hand wrapped around her waist, hoisted her up like she weighed nothing, and flung her over a shoulder.

She barely had time to register the motion before the world tilted.

Everything became a blur of movement.

She was being carried. No — run with.

For a second… all she noticed was golden hair, flickering in the dim, flame-colored light like it had caught fire.

And then came the scent.

Beneath the overpowering battlefield stench of burnt flesh, scorched soil, spilled blood, ruptured organs, and smoldering ash, there was something oddly familiar.

A soft, subtle trace of vanilla, expensive oils and lotions, and something deeper — something like old parchment and silver.

It was a scent she used to associate with being summoned into the Theosbane estate’s main hallways.

Suddenly she realized who was carrying her.

Samael.

Juliana blinked in a rare display of faint surprise. “…What—”

“Watch our back,” the golden-haired boy muttered, cutting her off.

His voice was hoarse, low, irritated.

And very much alive.

The mantis-scorpion behind them shrieked and fired a salvo of onyx-black spikes from its stinger.

The tiny projectiles whistled through the air, glowing slightly from the internal heat, sharp enough to punch through stone and hot enough to melt steel.

Juliana instinctively activated her Origin Card.

The air around them immediately thickened. The incoming spikes slowed — not stopped, but dragged down by invisible forces.

Time seemed to drip around them like syrup.

“Left!” she barked.

Samael instantly darted left, weaving between lunging monsters and raging Cadets.

The spikes struck the ground behind them and exploded — molten bursts of stone and shrapnel lighting up the immediate surroundings like a furnace.

Juliana inhaled a shaky breath.

Then it was time for Samael to use his innate power.

From the earth behind them, a massive stone pillar erupted, tall and thick, aimed straight at the charging creature tailing them.

The pillar launched upward like a battering ram.

The mantis-scorpion hybrid didn’t even see it coming.

It screeched again, but too late.

The pillar smashed into its torso with a crushing boom, lifting it off the ground.

The monster flew backward, limbs flailing, tail snapping uselessly as it crashed into the side of a crumbling tower and disappeared in a plume of smoke and rubble.

Juliana exhaled through her nose.

Samael slowed his sprint, but didn’t stop.

“…Put me down,” she muttered.

“Nope,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes, “You’re not strong enough to carry me and fight.”

He chuckled. “I’m not fighting while carrying you. I’m running. Like a sane person.”

There was a beat of silence…

Well, as much silence as you could hope for on a dark battlefield full of mythical monsters and young heroes.

Then Juliana remarked. “You’re sweating.”

“Thank you for the observation,” he retorted through a tight smile. “You’re bleeding.”

•••

It took Juliana a few seconds to realize what Samael was doing.

At first, she thought he was moving toward the center of the battlefield — where the Healers and Supporters were regrouping, protected by a ring of Scouts and long-range Casters.

But no.

Samael was instead heading straight for the vanguard.

Where the Brawlers were rallying to push back the Solbraiths and bring down that towering, one-eyed giant who was blasting destructive bursts of lasers and reducing people to ash.

“…Why are we moving closer to the danger zone?” she asked, her voice climbing an octave after a long pause of dread.

“You’ll see,” his maddeningly vague reply didn’t help.

Juliana, pale and bleeding and thoroughly unimpressed, shook her head. “No, seriously, Young Master. This loyal Shadow of yours is deeply grateful for the rescue, but you can now absolutely drop me anywhere here. I wouldn’t mind. Really. Anywhere. Just drop me.”

He laughed.

Of course he laughed.

“Nice try,” he said and picked up his speed while dodging a lunging centipede-beast, slipping under a whip-like tail, and weaving between stray attacks from enemies and allies alike.

The closer they got to the frontlines, the more Juliana wanted to cry.

But she bravely held back her tears — along with several inventive curses that no loyal Shadow would ever dare utter at her master.

After a few minutes, he finally skidded to a stop and set her down with all the grace of a farmer dropping a sack of potatoes after a long day in the fields.

Her boots hit the blood-slick ground with a wet squelch. Her leg immediately buckled — and she would’ve fallen if Samael hadn’t caught her again.

He quickly placed one hand at her waist and steadied her.

She shot him a glare sharp enough to pierce armor.

“Easy,” he said, smirking. “We’re not quite at the part where I let you die dramatically. Yet.”

“Yet?” she spat, trying to wrench herself away. “Why the hell am I even here?”

Instead of answering, he crouched beside her, gently easing her to one knee, stretching out her wounded leg. She bit down on a grunt as pain stabbed through her calf.

“To get your injury treated, of course,” he said with airy nonchalance.

“…Huh?” She stared at him like he had lost his mind. “There are only Brawlers here, no Healers. We ran past them.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage something,” he said with a shrug and started stretching his limbs. “But first… let’s secure our immediate surroundings.”

Before she could make any sense of it, a giant worm zoomed in on him from the left.

At the same time, one of those massive ant-things crawled out of the earth behind them and lunged forward like they were unsuspecting prey.

But before either of the creatures could get anywhere close to making a feast out of them, multiple earthen hands snapped up from the ground and grabbed the monsters, shackling them in place.

It wasn’t anything surprising.

Juliana had seen Samael use his improved powers like this a few times.

But what she saw next… was definitely shocking.

It wasn’t just these two monsters that were bound in place.

Oh, no.

Samael had extended both his hands outward, as if commanding the very ground beneath him to obey his will.

And his will was obeyed.

All around, more stone hands — some massive, some smaller, some thick like tree trunks, others thin and sinuous like tentacles — erupted from the ground.

And all of them — hundreds, if not thousands in number — grabbed every single monster within sight in a twenty to twenty-five meter radius.

…Juliana’s breath caught in her throat.

She stared, stunned — not by the spectacle itself, but by the sheer precision.

The battlefield was absolute chaos.

Just a moment ago, Cadets around them were locked in desperate combat. Shouts of coordination mixed with screams of pain. Explosions lit up the haze. Steel clashed. Blood sprayed. The air flickered like a war-torn rave.

But in the middle of it all… Samael had created a bubble of stillness.

No. Not stillness.

Control.

He had created control.

Monsters that had been lunging, thrashing, screeching… now hung helpless in the grip of countless stone arms.

Some squirmed and shrieked. Others hissed, spat acid, or coughed up gouts of flame. But none of them could break free.

Not yet.

Not for a moment.

And in a life-or-death battle, even a single moment was enough to decide a warrior’s fate.

The Cadets in this twenty-five-meter radius — those who had been struggling, retreating, bleeding — now had a chance to regroup. A chance to strike.

Those who were about to die were given a lifeline.

Those who were wounded were given a second wind.

An opportunity.

And that was all they needed.

Swords rose. Spears lunged. Spell Cards were activated in rapid succession — flames roared, blades of light spun, concussive blasts shattered chitin and bone.

Juliana watched in silence as chaos turned into strategy.

Samael didn’t just rescue them.

He practically reset the battlefield.

Well — at least this part of the battlefield.

This small, but crucial part.

She saw a red-armored Cadet who’d been pinned down moments ago now drive his sword into the eye of a bound serpent-beast.

She saw three Casters regroup behind a broken slab of rubble and launch a coordinated barrage at a monster they’d been retreating from seconds earlier.

She saw an injured Scout stumble to his feet and blink in disbelief, realizing the monster towering over him was no longer free. He immediately rushed back to safety.

And in the center of it all, Samael stood with both arms still raised.

Sweat was starting to bead across his brow.

But his expression… was calm.