Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 99: The Mask Falls

The Mask Falls

Very quickly, the ominous aura in the room dissipated entirely.

The last threads of gray mist dissolved like ash in sunlight.

The golden radiance surrounding Julian D’Aurelius flickered once—then vanished, as if it had never existed.

Silence fell.

Heavy. Sacred.

Then—

Breath returned to the room.

Back it returned, lopsided. Each breath jagged, then unsteady - a pause between gasps, like surfacing through thick water. The Valquins rose separately, bodies stiff, some lagging behind, palms flat on ribs just to feel the pulse beneath skin. Their fingers stayed pressed, waiting.

A soft chuckle slipped out from the girl by the rear. It cracked halfway through.

"...It’s gone... it’s actually gone..."

A silence followed. Not from refusal - but each person caught inside their own doubt.

A second ago, the heavy pressure pressed hard on their chest, tightened round their neck, pulled thoughts into a deep, quiet void. Then - empty air. Like it vanished without a trace.

Over by the far wall, things weren’t going any smoother for the Exorcists.

Some stumbled, grabbing at walls or whatever table was close. A couple stayed still, blank stares fixed ahead while the last echoes of that shockwave drifted through their nerves.

It felt like something tearing loose from inside them.

One older Exorcist sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his jaw, fingers twitching at his side.

"...Damn it... that was close," he muttered under his breath.

Another gave a weak, humorless chuckle.

"Close? If that energy had sunk any deeper, we’d be planning funerals right now."

No one argued with that.

For people like them, such malevolent energy was no small matter. They understood it better than anyone in that room.

If it burrowed too deeply—

It didn’t just injure.

It consumed.

It could shave years off their lifespan.

Or, if fate was feeling particularly cruel... end it instantly.

A heavy understanding settled among them. Quiet. Unspoken. Real.

And almost as one—

Their gazes shifted.

Toward him.

Julian D’Aurelius.

He hadn’t moved much. Still standing where he had stepped forward moments ago, posture straight, expression calm—almost indifferent. Not a trace of strain on his face. Not a flicker of pride in his eyes.

Just... stillness.

Like everything that had just happened meant nothing at all.

An Exorcist near the front swallowed hard, his voice low, almost reverent.

"...Did you see that?"

Another nodded slowly, eyes locked on Julian.

"I saw enough."

What is a true master?

The question didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Because the answer was standing right there in front of them.

This.

This is a true master, damn it.

He had sat quietly in the corner from start to finish.

No arrogance. No interruptions. No need to prove himself.

Said nothing.

Did nothing flashy.

If anything, he had looked... ordinary.

Until the moment it mattered.

Then—

At the most critical moment—

He stepped forward and turned the tide.

Just like that.

No buildup. No spectacle.

Only result.

Looking at his face now—handsome, composed, untouched by the chaos that had nearly swallowed everyone else—something tightened in the chests of several older Exorcists.

One of them let out a slow breath, his voice rough with something he didn’t bother hiding.

"...We got lucky today."

Another gave a faint nod, eyes still fixed on Julian.

"Not lucky," he said quietly. "Blessed."

No one laughed at that.

Because for once—

It didn’t sound exaggerated.

It sounded true.

Who would have thought they would be fortunate enough to witness a true hidden expert today?

A man who didn’t need recognition.

Didn’t need validation.

Didn’t need anyone to understand what he had just done.

And yet—

Everyone understood.

Truly—

A real master does not show off.

And those who show off are not real masters.

Togou staggered forward, face pale from earlier backlash, but eyes blazing with humility.

"I am truly ashamed," he said hoarsely. "As the master of White Hills, my skills are so much inferior to Young Master Julian’s. I must return to the mountain and meditate for twenty years."

He lowered his head.

"Young Master Julian, I will never forget your life-saving grace today. If you ever require my help, I will not hesitate to die for you!"

The hall erupted.

One Exorcist after another stepped forward.

"Brilliant!"

"Absolutely brilliant!"

"To dispel such dense malevolent energy with a single talisman—unprecedented!"

"Young Master Julian, please accept my respect!"

Their praise rose like thunder.

Despite the endless flattery, Julian’s mouth twitched slightly.

(Who am I? Where the hell am I?)

(This damn plot is all wrong. Why am I the one showing off?)

(Stop praising me. I really can’t take this.)

He felt like a man accidentally pushed onto a stage mid-performance.

Meanwhile—

Evan stood rigid.

His fists trembled at his sides.

He hadn’t expected this.

He had planned everything carefully.

The Golden Angel status.

The malevolent energy.

The dramatic dispelling.

The awe.

The admiration.

He was supposed to be the one standing there, receiving worship.

He was supposed to become the number one Black Magic master in Valemont.

The Valquin household would revere him.

Gwen would fall for him.

Everything would fall into place.

But now—

He stood like a lonely clown at the edge of the stage.

Occasionally someone glanced at him—

Only to look away with contempt.

Rage flooded his chest.

His breathing grew heavy.

Especially when he looked at Julian.

That bastard.

Again.

Just as he was about to lose control—

Gwen moved.

Without warning, she rushed toward the Golden Angel status on the altar.

Her heels clicked sharply against marble.

She grabbed the statue with both hands.

Her fingers were trembling—

Not with fear.

With fury. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Crash!

She smashed it against the ground with all her strength.

The statue shattered into fragments.

The sharp sound echoed violently through the hall.

Everyone turned.

From within the broken pieces—

A red light shot out like a blade.

It streaked across the room—

And plunged directly into Evan’s chest.

His body jerked.

His face drained of color.

Blood trickled from his nostrils.

Because the Golden Angel status had been refined with the blood of infants and stillborns.

Now that it was destroyed—

He, as its master—

Suffered backlash.

He had learned such sinister methods since childhood.

The old man who trained him had never hesitated to use forbidden techniques.

To achieve great things—

One must not be constrained by minor details.

Success always demands sacrifice.

As one destined to become an Obsidian King—

If he lacked such resolve—

How could he dominate the world?

But—

This room was filled with Exorcists.

In pure strength, perhaps none matched him.

But in insight?

They were not blind.

They saw the red light.

They saw his reaction.

Togou was the first to respond.

His expression turned murderous.

He raised the Justice Sword and pointed it straight at Evan.

"You despicable scoundrel," he roared, voice echoing through the hall, "so it was you who set up this malevolent energy!"