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

Chapter 258: Temple Of First Rebellion [I]

We resumed our descent after a few hours, leaving behind us the cavern I’d already grown strangely attached to.

The vines and protruding rocks stretched endlessly below, and the jungle mist clung to our clothes.

Alexia, fully recovered from her long nap, insisted on being thoroughly updated.

Which meant that for the last half hour, we’d been stuck recounting everything that had transpired while she was unconscious.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, one hand trailing along the cliff wall as Kang guided her by the elbow. “After I was knocked out cold by that overgrown salad—”

“The Tree King,” Lily corrected gently.

“The overgrown salad,” Alexia repeated, unbothered, “you three—” she gestured toward me, Michael, and Lily, “—played the heroic rescue party?”

“More or less,” Michael shrugged.

“Lord Samael,” Alexia drawled, her blind eyes narrowing in my general direction, “were you the leader of this rescue?”

“I was the strategist, Lady Alexia,” I said smoothly.

Lily coughed. “Yes, a strategist who literally jumped into that battle without a strategy.”

I flicked an annoyed glance at her. “Excuse me, Lily, but improvisation is simply a strategy executed faster than your brain can process.”

Ray whistled. “Burn! He called you slow!”

Vince squinted, looking so utterly baffled that he was left speechless for a second. “That’s not atall what improvisation is though!”

“And these are the two buffoons that joined you after the fight?” Alexia asked, tilting her head toward the voices of Ray and Vince.

“Excuse you!” Ray’s offended voice echoed up the cliffside. He was dangling from an overhang, trying to vlog himself mid-climb with his drone hovering beside him. “I am not a buffoon. I am a dreamer. An influencer. A beacon of light in this abyss we call the world!”

“Buffoon,” Alexia repeated flatly.

Vince puffed his chest. “And I, Lady Zynx, am no buffoon either. I am a man of commerce. A facilitator of opportunity. A—” his foot slipped on moss, and he screeched before catching himself, “—a professional, thank you very much!”

Alexia raised a brow. “Professional at what?”

“…Allegedly many things,” Vince muttered.

Ray laughed so hard he nearly lost his grip. “Pfft! You sound guilty even when no one’s accusing you!”

Michael sighed like a man seconds away from giving up on life. “Anyway. They’re our teammates now.”

“Correction,” I interjected. “They are my underlings. Like you all are.”

That sparked another back-and-forth between all of us that spiraled so long I couldn’t even remember half of it.

Most of it was pointless.

But I do remember Alexia falling quiet at one point, despondent over not being able to save the other Cadets she had tried to rescue from the Tree King’s clutches.

She was, however, visibly relieved that at least Juliana had made it out safely.

Juliana, of course, gave no acknowledgement.

She just kept walking with the same detached grace as always, keeping her every movement neat and precise, as if she was above the struggle of mortals who sweat and slip.

And after a while, Alexia finally arched her eyebrows at me. “So what’s your plan for getting us out of this jungle, strategist?”

I offered her a smile… which I remembered she couldn’t see. “We’ll keep moving deeper into the forest while hoping nothing kills us. Then we’ll set sail across the Lake of Grief

and reach my father’s Sanctuary. Once there, if his discarded undead horde doesn’t kill us, we’ll be safe.”

By now, we had reached the overhang from which Ray had climbed down.

One by one, we began to descend from it as well.

Standing behind me, Vince’s ears perked like a startled rabbit. “I’m sorry, did you say undead horde? As in zombies or something?!”

Alexia ignored him and blinked in my direction. “What an impeccable plan, Samael. Truly, you’re a man of vision. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Heh.” I smiled smugly.

“It was sarcasm,” Michael pointed out flatly.

“I know,” I scoffed. “But it’s fine. Because true visionaries are never appreciated in their own time. They’re mocked and doubted and belittled by lesser minds. Only later — after the dust settles, after history carves their names into monuments — does the world finally recognize their genius.”

Michael opened his mouth as if to argue, paused for several long seconds, then shut it again… perhaps finally acknowledging my greatness.

Alexia rubbed her face. “Okay, but jokes aside, is this place truly theNoctveil Wilds? I’ve read a bit about it online, and this—” she gestured vaguely at our surroundings, “—doesn’t seem anything like it.”

I wanted to point out how she could have ’read’ about it, and how exactly this place could ’seem’ anything to her… but I didn’t.

Out of the sheer kindness of my heart, I didn’t.

And people say I’m not considerate.

Michael joined in, looking at me. “Actually, I’ve been wondering the same thing ever since you told me where we were. I wanted to ask last night, but you went to sleep.”

To be clear, there was always night here. The blood-red moon was always at the zenith of the cracked sky. It never set.

But we had decided to measure time by our own clocks, otherwise half of us would’ve lost our minds already.

So the ’last night’ he was referring to was just thirteen hours ago.

Michael continued, “From what I’ve read as well, Noctveil Wilds is classified as a Death Zone. And Death Zones in the Spirit Realm are defined as territories overrun by Beasts so powerful that only [S-rank] Hunters or higher can survive in them.”

“Exactly,” Alexia nodded. “So how are we not already dead?”

Vince’s voice cracked as he walked up next to me. “No, no, hold on! Can we first go back to the zombies for a second? Because if there are going to be zombies where we’re headed, I think I’ll just stay here. Yes, right here. This rock and I are going to be best friends.”

I shrugged without looking back at Michael or Alexia before answering them. “You’re both kind of right. This is definitely Noctveil Wilds. But it’s different from any other Death Zone you may have heard of. The strongest Beasts here cap around [Greater], with only a handful of [Ancient] and above. Even with two [B-rankers] in our party, survival would be difficult… but our odds of making it out of here alive are still far better than in any other Death Zone.”

A contemplative silence fell over the group for a minute or two.

Then Michael frowned thoughtfully. “Wait… the strongest Beasts here are only [Greater

], with a few [Ancient] and above, you say? But that doesn’t make sense. If that’s true, then this place shouldn’t even qualify as a Death Zone.”

“Yeah,” Alexia chimed in, just as confused. “If that were the case, Duke Arthur would’ve conquered Noctveil Wilds years ago.”

I rolled my eyes. “Contrary to what modern media has led you to believe, my father isn’t all-powerful. He can be defeated. There are things — eldritch horrors, mythical abominations — that even he can’t deal with. Two of such beings are here in Noctveil Wilds. One is an [Unholy]… and the other is a [Demonic]-grade Spirit.”

Alexia’s blind eyes widened so sharply it was almost comical.

And it wasn’t just her. Everyone — even Juliana and Kang — had their faces plastered with expressions ranging from somewhere between outright disbelief and reluctant horror.

“Okay, now I know you’re screwing with me,” Alexia laughed uneasily. “An [Unholy] Spirit is one thing, but [Demonic]-grade? That’s a myth, right? It’s not even officially recognized on the ranking scale.”

The others nodded quickly, grasping onto that reasoning like it was a lifeline.

Everyone but Michael.

He stayed uncomfortably quiet.

Because he knew I wasn’t joking.

He had undeniable proof of [Demonic] beings’ existence. In fact, if I had to guess, one was whispering in his head at this very moment.

Xaldreth, the Sixth Demon Prince.

“You can believe me or not, I don’t care,” I said before turning toward Ray, who was still filming everything. “But cut this part out of your vlog.”

A heavy silence once again fell over the group.

Then Ray frowned, lowering his drone slightly. “Of course I will. But… even if I believe you, it’s hard to imagine Duke Arthur Kaizer Theosbane, the Dawn’s Scourge himself, ever losing. I mean, I’m not from the West, but even I know he’s by far the greatest Hunter ever lived.”

I nearly laughed out loud. “What, are you a fanboy, Ray? I hate to break it to you, but my father just has a stellar PR team. You should know better than anyone how far good PR can stretch. Don’t get me wrong — I agree with you. My father is absurdly strong. The greatest Hunter to ever live? Sure. But like I said, he’s not invincible. He, too, can be defeated.”

In fact, he had tried to conquer Noctveil Wilds before.

Unknown to anyone but the Monarchs, he had led two expeditions here.

But both times, he and his army were defeated. And there had never been a third attempt ever since.

So what kind of creature could bring even someone as powerful as my father to his knees?

An [Unholy] abomination called the Reflection Beast.

…Yeah, I know. It’s the most creative or terrifying name.

But trust me — the Reflection Beast was the kind of nightmare that made even legends lose sleep.

It was a creature made entirely of glass, sealed deep beneath the Noctveil Wilds, frozen in an endless slumber.

But the moment it sensed a human soul that was [A-rank] or above within its territory, it would wake up.

And once awake… it would copy you.

Not just your face or voice.

It would copy everything.

Your strength, your weapons, your instincts, your powers… even your soul — your entire existence reflected back at you.

Then it would kill you wearing your face.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

If you cut it down, it would shatter like glass and regrow from the broken shards — multiplying in number.

If you burned it, froze it, cursed it — it would adapt, mirror your attack, or just throw it right back at you twice as hard.

That’s why my father called it the perfect predator.

It wasn’t stronger than him. It wasn’t smarter than him either.

It didn’t have to be.

Because it was him. In an immortal body. With no limit to how many times it could multiply.

That was why this jungle remained unconquered. The second anyone above [B-rank] set foot here, the Reflection Beast rose to hunt them down.

So Noctveil Wilds had become a prison. A prison for the Reflection Beast… and for the other [Demonic] creature I’d mentioned earlier.

Vaeghar the Moon Eater.

Come to think of it, the geography of Noctveil Wilds was indeed perfectly suited to be a prison.

The jagged peaks of the Crown of Thorns walled this region off from one side, and the savage depths of Lake of Grief surrounded it from the other — making it a perfect cage for horrors too dangerous to be allowed loose.

So there was no way to get in and out of here…

Unless you were weak enough not to wake up the Reflection Beast, strong enough to endure the uncountable threats of this forest, lucky enough not to meet something that could wipe you out in an instant, and just crazy enough to recklessly brave the unknown.

Which, unfortunately, described all the main characters perfectly.

…Not me, of course.

I was a peace-loving, refined, civilized young man who preferred old music, fine scotch, and long naps in silk sheets.

Not dangling off a cliff while listening to Vince hyperventilate about zombies.

“I’m sorry, am I the only one who heard Samael say ’undead horde’?” Vince cried out. “Why the fuck is nobody talking about it?! He didn’t say a zombie or two! He said a horde! A whole-ass horde!”

We kept climbing down.

Vince kept panicking.