I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space-Chapter 76: Training Why?

Inside the System Space

[Welcome, Host, to the SSS-Rank Valley of Villey.]

[Villain Title: "Not a Swordsman."]

Razeal froze.

"...Mfrrr... Villey," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the system interface floating beside him. "Didn’t I specifically asked you to send me to one of the best SSS-ranked villains who excels in swordsmanship and dodging?"

His tone was more annoyed than angry but only barely.

His eyes twitched as he stared at the title again: Not a Swordsman.

"...You’re not seriously doing this just because I asked for one of the most sexually frustrated bastards again, are you?"

[It is as you requested, Host.]

[This individual is indeed the best in all three categories you specifically mentioned swordsmanship, evasion, and overall lethality across the infinite valleys of the Villey Database.]

Razeal’s eyebrow twitched.

"...Really?" Razeal exhaled slowly. "Then why does his title say ’Not a Swordsman’?" he asked, pointing at the glowing title still hovering in the air like a neon insult. Whatever leave it, I’ll figure it out myself." Razeal muttered, shaking his head as he took in his surroundings.

A tranquil bamboo forest stretched in all directions, dense and serene, bathed in soft golden light. The swaying leaves rustled gently as a quiet breeze passed through, and to his left, a small, peaceful lake reflected the towering green stalks like a mirror.

"This smells like Chinese..." Razeal muttered, eyes narrowing.

Then he spotted it just a few paces ahead.

A bamboo hut. Small, Humble and Quiet.

His brows lifted slightly. "Huh... so these villains do live in houses sometimes. First time seeing one not out in the open like all past villain’s."

He took a single step forward.

[Host, you have died.]

"...Huh?"

Razeal blinked.

In the blink of an eye, he found himself back where he had just been. Same forest. Same bamboo house in the distance. Same air

[Host, you have died.]

Before he could even blink again

[Host, you have died.]

[Host, you have died.]

[Host, you have died.]

Death after death after death.

The notifications rained down on him like a hailstorm, each one ringing out before he could even think. Every time he respawned at the exact same spot, he died again. It was so fast, so violent, and so confusing that he didn’t even know what was killing him.

It was like death was just... waiting.

This... this bastard is camping my respawn point?!

Whatever it was, it was slaughtering him before he could even take a breath.

[Host, you have died.]

[Host, you have died.]

It kept going until finally... silence.

Razeal blinked, breathing hard.

Finally... a moment of luxury. A moment to exist.

"The hell is wrong with this guy..." he muttered, exhausted just from respawning. "He didn’t even let me say hi! Even that crazy woman let me talk before trying to torturing me up!"

Then suddenly, a voice old and gravelly came from behind him.

"Hm... strange... even I can’t cut it? What kind of technique is this? Is it revival? Or illusion? No... that should be impossible. I can cut everything."

The voice was deep and curious cold, but not entirely hostile.

Razeal spun around to face the one responsible for his brutal massacre.

And there he was.

An old man.

No more like a shriveled corpse brought back to life by sheer stubbornness.

He was so frail looking that Razeal instinctively felt like tossing him a cup of milk.

His skin wrinkled so deeply he looked mummified. His long white beard fell down past his waist, his eyebrows drooped dramatically to his cheeks like mustaches, and his back was slightly hunched. Despite his shrunken, skeletal frame, his presence was immense. The very air seemed to tense around him.

A thin sword was sheathed at his waist.

Despite his hunched back and skeletal frame, his eyes glowed with a terrifying sharpness.

"...Yup," Razeal muttered under his breath. "I knew it. I smelled it the moment I arrived full on Chinese cultivation old man."

The elder stroked his beard slowly, peering down his long nose at Razeal with clear disdain.

"No respect for your seniors," the old man said, voice brittle but laced with power. "Looking at me and still not bowing... What a rude, unruly young generation this is..."

Razeal’s lips twitched.

"...This old geezer literally murdered me like fifty times without a word, and now I’m the rude one?"

He almost wanted to cough up blood from the sheer irony.

Still, he forced a smile.

But before Razeal could even start his prepared bullshit, the old man scoffed and spoke first, his voice sharp and accusing.

"So, you are that arrogant brat whose conceit has reached the heavens? Proclaiming you would come to learn from me? Requesting that I teach you? Just who gave you the guts, boy?" The old man practically glared down at him, despite being shorter, as though the very air around him bent to his disdain. It was clear he looked at Razeal with less regard than a flea.

His contempt was so strong that it practically carried weight. The atmosphere felt heavier. If the heavens themselves had descended to beg for Razeal’s training, the old man would still have swatted them away like a fly.

Razeal blinked, a little caught off-guard.

"Actually, I have brought gifts for senior," he said quickly, switching gears without hesitation.

The old man paused, his squinted eyes sharpening even more.

"Gifts?" he said, scoffing again as he shifted slightly from his perch on the rock. A sneer curled at the edge of his cracked lips. "Do you think there is a price for my teachings? Is that what you believe? That my teaching can be bought with a bribe? The arrogance of youth!"

And then, without even lifting a finger:

"Get out of my sight!"

[You have died, Host.]

Razeal sighed as he respawned in front of the same bamboo house, in the same bamboo grove, like nothing had happened. Except for the faint ringing echo of death still thudding in his skull.

"Man, just a few words and I drop dead? What the hell kind of power is that? If that’s what a word does, what the hell would a strike look like? Damn... if I could get this kind of power..." Razeal muttered, shaking his head.

Without wasting another second, he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his ultimate weapon.. a book, its cover a masterpiece of craftsmanship and degeneracy.

"You misunderstand my intentions, Senior," Razeal said with practiced sincerity, holding the book with both hands. "It’s not about buying your guidance. I simply brought a piece of... art. From the greatest collector and artist I know. And I thought perhaps you might appreciate its depth."

He opened the book like a sacred relic, angling it directly toward the old man, letting the first image reveal itself under the golden bamboo filtered light.

The effect was instant.

Silence.

Not the regular kind of silence, but a cosmic one. As if the entire world had frozen.

Even the rustling of the bamboo leaves stopped. The birds that had chirped earlier were suddenly mute. The soft breeze that had been threading through the bamboo forest now stood still.

And then Razeal noticed the old man.

Still seated on his rock, his skeletal form had begun to tremble. Not with fear, not with rage but with something far more profound.

Awe.

His eyes were wide, so wide they seemed to be trying to escape his wrinkled sockets. His pupils shook. His white eyebrows and beard lifted unnaturally, as though lifted by invisible strings. His skeletal jaw hung open, a thin line of saliva dripping uncontrollably from his mouth.

Razeal’s arms began to shake. He had never felt so... awkward. Or this thoroughly disgusted.

"What... what the hell kind of expression is that?" he whispered to himself. "Is he... is he drooling on himself...? Over that?"

"That... that expression... What the hell, man. You lecherous fossil! Just how horny do you have to be to make that face!?" Razeal screamed internally, his soul withering from second hand shame.

Then..

Suddenly, before Razeal could react, the book vanished from his hands. Gone. Cleanly snatched.

And the old man?

He was gone too.

Razeal blinked. He spun around.

"Huh? Where the hell did he.."

Then his eyes locked onto the bamboo hut a few paces away.

SLAM.

The door shut violently, sending a loud thunk echoing across the grove.

Razeal just stood there.

His mouth slowly dropped open.

"...No. No way."

He staggered a step closer, eyes wide.

"Don’t tell me... That damn old geezer..."

That damned old geezer had taken the book and locked himself in the house.

With the book.

He rubbed his forehead, unsure whether to scream or laugh.

"This... This is what I get for using that kind of tactic. That man’s more degenerate than Drake. No wonder he was labeled ’Not a Swordsman’. He’s a professional pervert who only use wrong sword."

Razeal sighed, sitting down on the ground.

"Now what the hell am I supposed to do? Wait for him to finish... enjoying the art?"

Inside the hut, he could hear muffled muttering, the sound of pages turning rapidly, and something that sounded suspiciously like stifled laughter mixed with weeping.

Razeal covered his ears.

"I’m never doing this again, Villey. Never."

[You think this kind of tactic is easy to pull off, Host? You’re lucky that old man had some dignity left. If you ask me, most degenerates of that level don’t even differentiate between man and woman... So your crash landing hams are safe.]

The system’s voice rang in Razeal’s ears, sharp and sarcastic enough to send a chill down his spine.

Razeal swallowed. Maybe... maybe he really did need a better plan next time. But for now, he had started something and he needed to finish it.

Twenty minutes later.

Razeal stood expressionless in the open grass clearing, the training ground carved neatly into the bamboo forest like nature’s perfect sparring ring. Fifty meters of open land surrounded him. The air was clean, but the aura hanging in it was anything but gentle.

He had done it. Somehow despite all the disgust and awkward bargaining he had convinced the degenerate old man to train him.

For thirty minutes.

Just thirty.

Even then, it hadn’t been easy. Razeal had offered five different books from Drake’s degeneracy collection, each one more treasured than the last. The old man had tried to snatch them. He’d even killed Razeal multiple times in an effort to steal them outright. But none were present here not in this system space. All of them remaine in the outside world, safeguarded in his real body’s possession.

Only after repeated deaths and a final threat to leave if not teaching did the old man finally relent.

And Razeal had even made one condition very clear:

"Take a shower before you teach me."

Now, standing with his arms folded, he faced the elder who was stretching his back with surprising vigor for someone so... wrinkled. The man looked re-energized, even excited. His dry, pallid skin shimmered with a faint glow of rejuvenation. His thin sword was now belted properly at his hip.

But still disgusting.

"Senior you can’t half ass this," Razeal warned flatly. "If I even feel like you’re not serious about teaching, I’ll leave this space. You know you can’t stop me."

The old man grumbled at the tone but didn’t reply back, He looked changed his back slightly bent as he stood across the field. But his eyes were sharp, and there was something dangerous in the way he twirled his long beard.

Though he looked tired, he wasn’t weak.

Still, Razeal held back his instinct to gag. He was sacrificing a little sanity for greater strength.

And swordsmanship along with dodging was something he desperately needed right now.

As for why he had come here to learn swordsmanship and dodging first well, that was actually the most important thing Razeal needed right now. Safety. Dodging skills. At the very least, he had to make sure nothing could hit him.

He knew that the opponents he’d be facing whoever they turned out to be would be overwhelmingly powerful. Strong enough that even a single blow might end the match, or worse, end him entirely. From everything he’d gathered so far, most of the potential enemies use swords or heavily physical combatants. Big attacks, massive spells amd elements or magic skills those were flashy, sure, but most likely wouldn’t be used in an arena setting where control and precision were prioritized.

It wouldn’t make sense for them to use big, flashy area attacks in an official areana Right?

He already had an S-Rank perception skill, and he knew how much of an upgrade that gave him. Just being able to sense things more sharply had improved his combat sense dramatically. But perception alone wasn’t enough. He needed reaction time. He needed agility. He needed real technique something that would let him move, dodge or atleast survive.

If he could react fast enough and master a proper dodging technique, Razeal was confident that no ordinary attack could land on him. And if he couldn’t be hit, he couldn’t be hurt. At the very least, he wouldn’t be taken out by one strike.

As for offense well, that’s where swordsmanship will comes in. With his high strength and agility stats he will get by working on killing intent skill, not to mention the flexibility and lightning fast reaction speed after learning dodging, he could be absolutely lethal. That combination alone makes him a deadly force on the battlefield.

Why hadn’t he chosen to go for magical skills first, even when the system had clearly stated that magic was superior to physical combat on nearly every level?

Simple. because.

His mana stat was still at E-rank.

That meant even the smallest skills won’t work much, like literally his [Shadow Step], drained him quickly. And that wasn’t even an offensive or high consumption skill it was just a movement ability, one designed to cancel out sounds and create concealment. He could barely activate it, much less sustain or spam it in battle.

If that tiny skill was already so mana heavy for him, then trying to use real magic attacks? Yeah, that was a death sentence.

Getting proficient in magic would require more than just skills also. He needed raw mana. That was something he could only obtain through monster cores which he didn’t have right now. Also he couldn’t just go out there and hunt down thousands of monster cores to refine his mana pool. He didn’t have the money, and he certainly didn’t have the time. Seven days. That was all he had. Just seven days to evolve into someone who could go toe to toe with monsters in human form.

Even if he somehow obtained magic skills now, learning them and getting proficient in their use would take time and effort. Magic wasn’t just a point and shoot thing. You needed control, timing, and familiarity with your own mana flow. He didn’t have that experience yet, and he didn’t want to waste time fumbling through it.

Its all because of not having fucking time.

What was the point of learning grand magic if he couldn’t even survive long enough to cast it?

On the other hand, his physical stats? Those he could improve easily. In the Training Ground, by fighting and killing, he could steadily raise attributes like agility, strength. And if he focused on dodging techniques, paired with his S-Rank perception and other senses like [Keen Hearing], he’d already be setting a solid foundation.

Let’s say he managed to obtain a good dodging technique from this old man, one that truly helped with reaction speed and movement.

Then, he could enter the Training Ground, choose stronger enemies, and simulate combat. That would do a few things at once: Not to say amplify time speed inside training ground to get extra time

he could train his dodging proficiency.

He’d raise his physical stats.

He’d increase the proficiency of his [Keen Hearing] and [Killing Intent] by using them in real time combat.

He’d test and refine his close quarters fighting instincts.

Improve sword skills at same time and whatever skills old man will givenle

It was the most logical route he could take with the resources and stats he had right now. He wasn’t being stupid or reckless. He just wasn’t blindly throwing stones and hoping they landed. He had discussed it with Villey, analyzed every step, and mapped the clearest path forward.

Ofcourse he would still visit a shadow element based villain. Maybe there was something hidden in that affinity. Some passive benefits or traits. Something he could utilize.

For now, though, this was the best course of action.

Razeal’s eyes refocused, locking on the old geezer standing across the training field.

The old man, for all his eccentricities, still didn’t look very motivated. He looked like he was here against his will, his face sour and passive. There wasn’t a hint of genuine teaching spirit in him. It made Razeal sigh internally.

"This old fart’s probably gonna do the bare minimum," Razeal muttered in his head.

But then, he had an idea. If scaring the old guy into teaching didn’t work... maybe it was time to use another kind of motivation.

"Senior," Razeal said suddenly, voice firm but respectful, "it all depends on your teaching."

The old man raised a single white eyebrow.

"I’m being serious here," Razeal continued. "If I’m satisfied like truly satisfied with the depth of your technique I’ll give you an additional ten books. All premium-grade. But if your teachings exceed my expectations... if they’re really satisfying... I’ll give you twenty. Signed. Labeled. Exclusive."

He leaned forward slightly, a devilish glint in his eye.

"So don’t take this lightly. And don’t try to cheat this junior."

The old man blinked once. Then twice. His eyes twitched as he hugged the book to his chest like a lover reunited after centuries.

"You... truly have the spirit of an artist," he muttered, eyes beginning to shimmer with nostalgic warmth. "Younger generations... they still hold the light. Also I would love to meet this junior Drake of yours or whatever...someday..."

He sighed deeply.

"Don’t worry, kid," the old geezer said, finally setting the book down beside him with something akin to reverence. "I may be a degenerate, but I still have some dignity. If I said I’ll teach, then I’ll teach."

He slowly pulled out a long, thin sword one that looked almost weightless, refined like a sliver of starlight and turned to face Razeal in the open clearing.

"To be clear," he added, one hand cracking his old neck, "I don’t have a dozen techniques, or secret books, or flying sword manuals. I only know one thing."

His lips curled slightly, and his eyes finally gleamed not with lust or greed this time, but with something closer to... pride.

"But what I do know? I know perfectly."

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Over 3k words in this Chapter damn...

Well, enjoy it, guys! And thank you so much for all the Golden Tickets you seriously pushed us into the Golden Rankings! That’s insane, and I’m beyond grateful.

Also, quick note about the illustration: it doesn’t necessarily mean those characters are the love interests. Just see them as the core heroines for now. It’s not confirmed I repeat, not confirmed whether they’ll be on that kind of list or not. Even I don’t...

So yeah, please don’t misunderstand. I just felt like "female lead" was the right word to use at the time.

Thanks again for reading now let me get back to writing today’s Chapter!

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