I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space

Celestia stood where she was, her gaze lifted toward her mother, and for a brief moment the composure she had forced upon herself faltered not outwardly in any dramatic sense, but in the way her pupils trembled ever so slightly, in the way something deeper surfaced behind her eyes, something raw and unguarded; there was longing there, unmistakable and intense, not the fleeting kind, but the kind that had taken root over time, grown silently, and now refused to be denied its presence any longer. Nerissa’s words had not been empty.. Celestia knew that better than anyone.

If her mother said something could be done, then it would be done, no matter what stood in the way, no matter who opposed it, no matter what balance of power it disrupted. That certainty was not belief it was fact. And because of that, the offer placed before her was not hypothetical.. it was real, immediate, within reach. All she needed to do was accept.

And for a fraction of a second..

She almost did.

The thought came uninvited but powerful: just say yes. Just once, abandon restraint, abandon hesitation, and take what was being handed to you. It would be easy. Effortless. Final. The distance, the rejection, the uncertainty all of it would disappear with a single word.

But she didn’t say it.

Instead, she inhaled slowly, steadying herself, and then shook her head. “No, mother.”

The refusal was quiet, but it was absolute.

Nerissa’s brows drew together slightly not in anger, but in genuine confusion, something far rarer to see on her than any display of authority.

“Why?” she asked, her tone shifting just enough to reflect that she did not immediately understand this decision. “I thought you wanted him.”

Celestia did not look away. “I do want him,” she replied, her voice steady, though the emotion beneath it had not disappeared. “But I do not want him given to me.”

There was a distinction there clear, deliberate, and deeply important to her.

Nerissa studied her for a moment, and then gave a small nod, as if recalibrating her understanding.

“I see,” she said. “Then go and take him yourself.” Her tone returned to its earlier certainty, simple, direct, unquestioning. “You are strong enough for that. And given who you are daughter of… no one would dare stand in your way.” It was the most straightforward solution.

But Celestia did not move.

“He is already married, mother.”

And that was the point where the air shifted.

For the first time in the conversation, Nerissa’s expression changed more noticeably her brows lifting slightly, not dramatically, but enough to show that this piece of information had not been accounted for. “Married?” she repeated. “When? And who?”

Celestia shook her head faintly. “I do not know when,” she said, her voice quieter now, though still controlled. “But she is strong.” Her eyes shifted slightly, not away from her mother, but inward, recalling the encounter. “She had dark blue, oceanic hair… and she fought me directly.”

That alone carried weight.

“She faced me in close combat,” Celestia continued, her tone now tinged with something more complex respect, perhaps, though she did not name it. “Without me using my bloodline abilities… and she did not get pushed back.”

That was not a small statement.

Nerissa listened without interruption, and though she did not speak her thoughts aloud, there was a flicker of recognition in her gaze, subtle but present, as if the description had triggered a possible conclusion but she did not voice it. Instead, her attention returned fully to her daughter, to the emotion that had crept more visibly into her expression now.

And then

She dismissed the complication entirely.

“So what jf?” Nerissa said, her tone flattening again into that unyielding practicality that defined her. “He is married?” She tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady. “What of it?”

Celestia’s eyes flickered.

“Why the sadness?” Nerissa continued, her voice carrying a faint edge now not harsh, but firm, as though challenging the validity of the hesitation itself. “If you want something… you take it.”

That had always been the rule.

“That is what I taught you.”

There was no softness in it only principle.

Nerissa stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking until her presence felt almost overwhelming, not through force, but through certainty. She leaned slightly, bringing her voice lower, more direct, her words no longer meant for the room, but only for Celestia.

“He is yours,” she said quietly. “Take him.”

And then, even closer

“Snatch him from her.”

The words were not loud, but they carried a sharpness that cut through hesitation, a dangerous clarity that did not allow room for moral conflict.

“He belongs to you,” she added, her voice almost a whisper now, but heavier than anything she had said before. “Only you.”

And.. Celestia felt it

The pull.

The temptation.

Her breath hitched slightly as something inside her responded instinctively, her desire surging, her mind momentarily aligning with that logic it was simple, wasn’t it? If she wanted him, she could take him. If he resisted, that resistance could be broken, redirected, reshaped.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, steadying herself, forcing that surge down.

“But he hates me, mother,” she said, her voice quieter now, more fragile beneath the control. “He does not love me anymore.”

That was the part that mattered.

“I want him to love me,” she admitted, her gaze lowering slightly before lifting again, conflicted, uncertain. “But…” She shook her head faintly. “If I take him like that…”

The thought didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.

“It will not change anything.”

Her voice dropped further. “He will just say no.”

Nerissa did not hesitate in her response.

“He will not,” she said.

There was no doubt in it.. none.

“Not if you give him a reason.”

Celestia’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“No one does anything without reason,” Nerissa continued, her tone shifting again not softer, but more instructive now, more deliberate. “People do not love without cause. They do not stay without incentive. They do not surrender without pressure.”

Her eyes held a faint glint now. sharp, calculating.

“You want him to love you?” she asked, not rhetorically, but as a premise. “Then give him a reason to.”

Celestia did not speak.

“Find what he cannot let go of,” Nerissa continued, her voice steady, precise. “Find what he values. What he fears losing. What he protects.”

Her gaze narrowed slightly.

“And if those reasons do not exist…”

A pause brief, but intentional.

“Then create them.”

There was no hesitation in the suggestion. No moral boundary.

“I… ha… ha… haha… yes… find the reason… or make the reason…” The words slipped out of Celestia in a low, uneven murmur, almost as if she were speaking to herself rather than to her mother, yet the shift in her was unmistakable the confusion that had weighed her down moments ago did not vanish. it twisted, redirected, reshaped into something sharper, something far less hesitant.

It was not clarity in the sense of peace it was clarity in the sense of decision, of direction, of purpose taking hold regardless of consequence. Her thoughts, which had been tangled in doubt and restraint, now began to align under a different kind of logic, one that did not question whether something was right, only whether it could be done. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, the softness that had lingered in her expression stiffened.. her lips curved, but not into relief into something controlled, something deliberate, something that did not quite reach warmth. Her platinum eyes, once trembling with conflict, now held a different glint focused, intense, and edged with something dangerously close to obsession.

“Thank you, mother,” she said, and this time her voice carried sincerity deep, genuine but not in the way one might expect.. it was the gratitude of someone who believed they had been shown a path, regardless of where it led. Yet even as she spoke, there was a faint hesitation that followed, a fragment of uncertainty that had not yet been consumed by that new direction.

“But…” she added, her brows drawing together slightly, not in doubt of her mother’s words, but in consideration of a problem she could not yet resolve. “What about the one he married?”

Her gaze lifted again, meeting Nerissa’s directly.

“You cannot stop someone from looking at others, can you?” she asked, her voice steady, but quieter now, as if the question carried weight she had not yet fully processed. “What if he loves someone else?” There was no accusation in her tone only a need to understand. “What should I do then?”

For the first time since the conversation had begun, Nerissa did not answer immediately.

She stood still for a moment, her gaze resting on her daughter, as if measuring the question not for its surface meaning, but for what it revealed beneath. Then, without a word, she turned.

Her steps were unhurried as she moved toward the window, the long fall of her platinum hair shifting with her motion, catching faint strands of moonlight as she walked there was something composed in her silence, not avoidance, but intention as though the answer she intended to give could not be delivered where they stood before.

Celestia followed without being told.

She moved after her mother, stopping just behind her, her attention fixed, waiting not impatiently, but with a sharpened awareness, as if she already knew that whatever came next would matter more than anything said before.

Nerissa stood by the window, her gaze lifting slightly toward the sky beyond, where the moon hung in quiet brilliance, its light spilling across the chamber in pale, steady illumination. For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she spoke.

“If I say the moon is mine,” Nerissa said, her voice calm, even, almost contemplative, “then it is mine.”

She turned her head slightly, just enough for her eyes to settle on Celestia again. “And mine alone.”

There was no arrogance in the statement.

Only certainty.

Celestia did not hesitate. “Yes, mother,” she replied immediately, her tone firm, unwavering, the conviction in her voice absolute. “If you say so… then no one would dare deny it.”

That was not flattery.

It was truth as she understood it.

Nerissa’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, then shifted back to the moonlight filtering through the window. Slowly, she raised her hand, extending it outward into the pale glow, allowing the light to settle across her skin. The faint silver illumination spread across her palm, soft yet undeniable, touching her without resistance, without permission.

“If it is mine,” Nerissa continued, her voice lowering slightly, her attention fixed on the light resting against her hand, “then it should reach only me.”

Her fingers moved faintly, as if testing the intangible presence of that light. “And me alone.”

“Right?” She looked at celestia.

There was a pause not empty, but weighted.

“But then…” she said quietly, her gaze dropping slightly to the glow upon her skin, “What should be done about this moonlight which falls on everyone?”

Celestia followed her movement instinctively, her own gaze lowering to her mother’s hand, to the light that rested there so freely. Then, almost without thinking, she extended her own hand into the same stream of moonlight.

It touched her as well.

Equally.

Without distinction.

Her fingers tensed slightly as she felt it, as the meaning of the gesture began to take shape not immediately, but steadily, unfolding in her mind piece by piece.

She looked up at her mother.

And for the first time since Nerissa had begun speaking, she did not respond.

Because she was beginning to understand.

“There are things,” Nerissa said softly, her tone carrying something deeper now not softness, but weight, “That cannot be kept for oneself… no matter how much one claims them.”

Her gaze shifted back to Celestia, sharp again, deliberate.

“Like the moon.”

Celestia’s breathing slowed, her mind working through the implications, the metaphor settling into place with increasing clarity.

“But…” Nerissa continued, her voice gaining edge again, “there are ways to change that also.”

Her hand lowered slowly from the light.

“Like.. You can prevent others from reaching it,” she said. “You can lock it away make it inaccessible to anyone but yourself.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Or…”

“You can remove those who reach for it.”

The words were spoken without hesitation. Without disguise.

Celestia’s gaze did not waver now.

She held her mother’s eyes, fully aware of what was being said not in abstraction, not in metaphor, but in meaning.

“It is your choice,” Nerissa finished, her voice steady, unwavering. “Whether you allow your moon to remain shared…”

“Or not.”

Silence settled between them but it was not uncertain silence.

It was the kind that follows understanding.

Celestia stood there, her hand still faintly illuminated by the moonlight, her fingers slowly curling inward as if grasping something that could not be held. Her expression did not break but it changed.

The hesitation was gone.

In its place

Something colder.

More focused.

Her gaze lifted again, meeting her mother’s fully, no longer searching, no longer questioning.

And then

Nerissa stepped closer.

Just enough that her presence filled the space between them entirely.

She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to something barely above a whisper quiet, controlled, and unmistakably clear.

“Kill them.”

The words were simple.

But their meaning

Was not.

Celestia did not respond immediately to those words.. she couldn’t. Her gaze lifted almost instinctively, as if pulled upward by the weight of what she had just heard, her pupils narrowing, then widening again in a subtle, involuntary reaction; it was not shock in the ordinary sense, not the kind that made one recoil or protest, but something deeper, something that settled into the mind and refused to be dismissed.

She just stood there, unmoving, her body still, her breath controlled, yet her thoughts those did not remain still. They shifted, adjusted, restructured themselves around the single, clear directive her mother had given. It was not a suggestion. It was not advice softened by hesitation. It was a conclusion one that now lingered in her mind, demanding to be understood, not rejected.

For a moment, she did nothing but stand there, her expression unreadable, as if she were not merely hearing those words, but absorbing them, placing them somewhere deeper within herself, where they could not easily be undone.

Nerissa watched her only briefly. She did not interrupt, did not press, did not attempt to guide her further she understood that this part.. this internal shift was something Celestia would have to reach on her own.

And so, with a faint, almost satisfied curve to her lips, she straightened, turning away with quiet composure. Her steps were soft against the polished floor as she moved past her daughter, unhurried, her presence as steady as ever, as if nothing extraordinary had just been said. She did not look back. She did not need to.

“You need to understand, Celestia,” Nerissa said as she walked, her voice calm, carrying easily through the chamber without force, “As to why people crave strength… why they pursue it, endure for it, sacrifice for it.” There was no lecturing tone, no heaviness only certainty, as though she were stating something self-evident. “It is for this.”

Her hand moved slightly at her side, not gesturing dramatically, but enough to accompany her words. “If you possess strength,” she continued, “Then what you desire… what you yearn for… becomes something you have the right to claim.”

She paused for just a fraction of a second not long enough to break the flow, but long enough to let the meaning settle.

“Because you have earned it.”

There was a faint smile on her face as she said it, small, controlled, yet unmistakably present a smile not born of warmth, but of conviction.

Behind her, Celestia’s stillness broke.

“How did you cope?”

The question came quietly, but clearly, her voice steady again, though now carrying something else beneath it curiosity, not naïve, but searching. Celestia had turned, her gaze fixed on her mother’s back, her posture straight once more, but her eyes sharper now, more focused. “With others… receiving your moon’s light?”

And at that Nerissa suddenly stopped.

Her movement halted so smoothly it almost seemed deliberate from the start, as though she had expected the question. Slowly, she turned her head, then her body, until she was facing her daughter again. For a moment, she simply looked at her as if measuring whether this question was truly necessary.

Then, unexpectedly, a faint grin appeared on her lips.

“Why would I need to cope?” she asked, her tone light, almost amused not dismissive, but confident in a way that made the question itself seem misplaced.

Her eyes held a glint now sharp, unmistakable.

“The world belongs to me as well.”

She said it simply.

As fact.

“Why would I destroy something… that is already mine?”

The grin deepened, just slightly not exaggerated, but enough to carry a dangerous edge beneath its composure, something that spoke not of cruelty, but of a perspective so absolute it left little room for contradiction.

Celestia felt it.

That shift.

And the realization.

It did not come as understanding alone it came with a faint, involuntary reaction deep within her, a subtle tightening in her chest, a fleeting chill that ran through her despite her control. For the first time, she saw not just heard, but truly saw the extent of her mother’s way of thinking. It was not simply dominance. It was not merely authority. It was a worldview in which ownership extended beyond possession into existence itself.

And for a moment

Celestia understood that she had only ever seen a fraction of it before.

Yet even as that realization settled, something else followed.

She smiled knowingly.

“I see,” she said softly, her voice steady again, her eyes no longer clouded, but clear focused, as if something had aligned within her. There was still something dangerous in that clarity, something not entirely resolved, but it no longer wavered.

She straightened slightly, her posture firm, her head lifting with that same unyielding pride she had always carried.

“Thank you, mother,” she said, and this time the words carried a different weight not gratitude for comfort, but for direction, for understanding, for something she believed she had gained. “I have learned… another lesson from you.”

Her gaze did not falter.

And for a moment, looking at her, it was impossible to ignore how similar she appeared not just in appearance, but in presence.

Nerissa observed her, a faint trace of surprise passing through her expression not at the words themselves, but at the clarity behind them. Then, slowly, she nodded.

“Good,” she said simply.

Celestia turned then, her steps measured as she began to walk past her mother, her movement no longer hesitant, no longer burdened by the same weight as before. There was purpose in it now quiet, but unmistakable.

“Excuse me, mother,” she said as she moved, her voice calm, composed, as though she had already begun arranging her next actions in her mind. “It seems I have… several matters to attend to now.”

She did not stop as she passed.

But then.. She did.

Her steps halted just beyond her mother, and she turned her head slightly, her gaze shifting back.

“There is something else,” she added.

Nerissa waited.

“Selena and i intends to clear Razeal’s name tomorrow,” Celestia said, her tone steady, though the weight behind the statement was clear. “I would prefer… that if you do not interfere with this.”

It was phrased as a request. But it was not one at same time also.

Nerissa understood that immediately.

There was no need to question what decision Celestia had already made regarding it her tone alone made that clear. For a moment, Nerissa simply looked at her, and then, unexpectedly, she smiled again this time with a faint trace of amusement.

“As you wish… Imperial Princess,” she said, her voice carrying a subtle teasing edge, one that acknowledged not just the request, but the independence behind it.

Celestia’s reaction was immediate and unguarded her cheeks flushed faintly, a soft hint of color rising despite her composure. She turned her gaze away briefly, shaking her head as if dismissing the remark, though the small smile that followed betrayed her reaction.

“Thank you, mother,” she said again, quieter this time.

She turned back to leave

Then paused once more.

“There is one more thing,” she added, her tone returning to seriousness. She looked back, her expression focused. “May I… use my bloodline abilities now?”

There was a brief pause before she finished, her gaze steady.

“I will need them.”

She did not elaborate further.

She did not need to.

Nerissa’s smile returned slight, controlled, but unmistakably approving.

“Yes,” she said as permission was given just like that.

——