Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 487: A Messy Visit (Part 7)

Kasanda moved like a blur through the hall.

The weight on his shoulder barely slowed him.

Abraham’s body bounced once against his back as he adjusted his hold, one arm hooked under the man’s leg, the other clearing fallen debris out of his way. His boots struck the marble hard enough to leave shallow cracks.

Han followed close behind, silent except for the rasp of his breath and the scrape of his boots. His eyes darted between the broken doorways and the shattered windows that lined the corridor.

Outside, the mansion grounds looked like a battlefield.

The fires from the courtyard cast long, broken shadows that moved against the walls as they ran.

Through one of the tall windows, Abraham finally caught a glimpse of what was happening below.

Bodies.

Dozens of them.

Minions in black tactical gear stepping between them, rifles raised, methodically firing short bursts into the corpses. Others crouched beside the fallen Defenders, pressing small, blinking charges to armor and limbs before moving to the next.

Abraham’s breath hitched. "Just—just who the hell are these people?"

Neither Kasanda nor Han answered. There wasn’t time.

Han’s voice came next, low but urgent. "We need to get to the helicopter now. The pilots might still be alive."

Kasanda didn’t reply, only pushed harder, rounding a corner. Dust rolled off his back as he moved.

They reached the next junction fast—and almost died for it.

Three guards stood ahead, faces pale, weapons raised on instinct at the first sight of motion.

"Wait!" Kasanda yelled out, dropping lower, shielding Abraham’s body with his own.

One of the guards flinched, finger already tightening on the trigger—

—but his comrade lunged, slapping the rifle sideways.

"Hey! Friendlies!" he shouted.

The gunman froze mid-pull, realization snapping into his face. "Shit—sorry!"

Kasanda eased his stance, eyes scanning the hall behind them before answering. "Status?"

The guard shook his head, voice unsteady. "Comms are dead. You got a signal?"

Before anyone could respond, the floor trembled.

A deep, rolling blast thudded through the walls.

BOOOOMM~

The light fixtures rattled. Dust fell from the ceiling.

One of the guards swore, "The fuck was that?"

Kasanda’s head turned toward the far end of the hall, expression darkening. "Came from the helipad."

Han grimaced, teeth set. "Then our exit’s gone."

He scanned the shattered hallway windows again, eyes narrowing in calculation. "The forest. We use it. Cut through until we get a signal, call for extraction. They’ll expect us to head for vehicles."

Kasanda shook his head. "Too open. We’ll get spotted before we clear the ridge."

"Then what—?"

"We find a Defender that’s still running. Get to the rear service road and break through. They won’t be watching it yet."

One of the guards cut in, voice thin. "So which plan is it?"

Kasanda glared back at him. "Whichever gets us out faster. Move."

He turned to Abraham, lowering his voice but keeping it firm. "Sir, what do you want us to do?"

Abraham swallowed hard, sweat cutting lines through the dust on his face. "Follow Kasanda’s plan."

Kasanda nodded once.

The light above them flickered—once, twice—and died completely.

whrrr~ click~

Darkness rolled down the hall like a wave.

Through the windows, they saw it—the line of black Escalades that had been at the front now moving along the outer road, engines low, headlights dimmed, cutting toward the mansion’s rear flank. Figures poured out behind them—more minions, rifles gleaming under the strobing fires.

"They’re repositioning," Han muttered.

"Yeah," Kasanda said. "To box us in."

A guard near the back whispered, "What now?"

Kasanda didn’t answer right away. He turned toward the distant sound rising faintly through the stone and smoke.

A sound none of them could mistake—human, raw, drawn from the gut.

A scream.

It came from deeper in the mansion—the direction of the living area they’d fled.

Gerald’s voice.

Kasanda’s frown deepened. "That’s him."

Han exhaled sharply. "Then she’s still there."

Kasanda adjusted his grip on Abraham, setting his jaw. "Let’s move. Stay close."

They moved again—down the dark corridor, through the fading light, as the mansion behind them burned and the night outside thundered with gunfire.

———

Back in the room they Kasanda and the others had just fled, there was wreckage and firelight.

Dust hung low, mixed with smoke and the faint metallic scent of blood.

Gerald Richmond now crawled through it—slow, uneven movements, one arm dragging uselessly, the other pressed tight against his face.

Blood leaked between his fingers, dark and steady, trailing behind him across the marble. His breath came out ragged, throat rasping through clenched teeth.

His body trembled with every motion.

Fragments of glass and broken stone cut into his knees and palms as he pushed forward, but he barely seemed to feel it. The pain in his head drowned everything else.

Behind him stood Elle.

Still. Silent.

Her hand was raised at her side, fingers curled loosely around something wet.

It dripped grotesquely.

A torn optic nerve hung down from her grasp, the end twitching faintly before it went still. The eye itself—Gerald’s—caught the dim light in its glossy surface, rolling slightly in her palm as another drop of blood fell and hit the floor with a faint tick~.

Gerald groaned again, body tightening, trying and failing to stand. He staggered once, fell back to his knees, both hands now pressed to the ruined side of his face.

The air outside carried the heavy churn of engines. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Through the fractured wall, headlights slid across the walls as Escalades circled the mansion—moving not outward, as Kasanda had guessed, but inward, a tightening perimeter meant to choke off every possible escape.

Over it all came the sound of gunfire, muffled by stone but still distinct. Screams also cut through in waves—guards, distant, dying.

Elle didn’t move.

The sound of her earpiece clicking on broke the stillness.

Gary’s voice filtered through, calm but edged with urgency. "Is everything in order, Madam? I fear we don’t have much time left. The watch team at Zone Two reports a convoy heading our way."

Elle’s head turned slightly, her expression hidden beneath the half-mask. Her voice, when she spoke, was even—measured. "What happened to the team at Zone One?"

"No response," Gary answered after a brief pause. "It’s wise to assume they’ve encountered trouble."

Gerald’s weak movements drew her gaze again.

He was still trying to crawl, dragging himself toward what was left of the doorway. His fingers slipped in his own blood, leaving uneven streaks on the marble.

Elle’s eyes dimmed faintly, then shifted toward the hole in the wall, where night wind pushed in from outside, carrying sparks from the burning courtyard.

"Tell the other zones to begin retreat," she said softly. Her tone was almost gentle—almost. "We’ve drawn enough attention."

"At once," Gary replied. The channel clicked dead.

Elle lowered her hand, the eye still cradled loosely in her palm. She took a single step forward—then blinked out of view.

The next instant, she was beside Gerald.

He froze mid-crawl. Every muscle in his body locked.

"Please..." he rasped. His voice was small, fraying at the edges. "Wait— I’ll... I’ll give you what you asked for."

The words spilled out between labored breaths. His face was pale, sweat cutting through the blood running down his cheek. He didn’t dare look up.

Elle regarded him for a moment. Then she let the thing in her hand fall.

It hit the floor between them with a dull thmp~, rolling once before coming to rest—his own ruined eye staring back at him.

"I know you will," she said.

Her tone wasn’t cruel.

It was worse—certain.