I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space-Chapter 81: Teach Me

"Don’t touch that, you fucking moron!" the old man’s voice thundered through the air, crashing like a tidal wave across the empty space. The sound echoed for several long seconds, sharp and absolute, like a warning bell ringing at the edge of disaster.

Razeal flinched.

He jerked his hand back immediately, eyes wide, starteled.

"Time...?"

[Yes, host,] the system responded with a rare note of seriousness. [That thin emerald ripple you just pointed at that’s the temporal flow of this world. It governs all events from the past, present, and future. It is not something you want to touch. Especially not directly. And definitely not as a mortal.]

Razeal’s jaw went slack. "Wait.. wait hold on. Are you seriously telling me I almost touched time itself?! No, forget that.. I can touch time? With my bare hands?!"

[Yeah. Technically, yes. But don’t. No matter the reason. Just. Don’t.]

"But... I mean, I’m inside the system right now, right?" Razeal argued, still stunned. "So wouldn’t that make it... kinda safe?" frёeωebɳovel.com

[Yeah, you’re technically in the system’s protected space. But again why the hell would you want to mess with time in the first place?] the system snapped. [There’s zero profit in it for you. Nothing to gain. Only massive, reality-warping, soul-obliterating problems. It’s like shoving your arm into a meat grinder out of curiosity. Just don’t. Chill.]

"...Alright, alright, damn," Razeal grumbled, pouting slightly at the system’s harsh tone. "I wasn’t gonna do it. I was just asking..."

Meanwhile, the old man stood frozen, blinking slowly... as if just remembering that this weird kid could revive.

His chest rose and fell in a long, deep breath. He let it out, shaking his head.

He wasn’t sure why he’d reacted so violently. Why he’d panicked like that. The kid wasn’t going to die permanently he knew that. And even if he doesn’t he doesn’t care.

But still... seeing that reckless hand reaching toward time itself had sparked something primal.

Sigh... maybe it was that move the kid made..." the old man thought, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But scared yes, he definitely felt scared."

After all, he was the only one who had ever dealt with something like this. No one else even knew this kind of danger existed. That made the boy’s reckless action all the more terrifying.

It was like watching someone leap off a building you’re not the one falling, but your heart still drops. That same helpless, gut-twisting fear gripped him now.

He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"I really am getting soft," he muttered under his breath.

Then, after steadying himself, he looked at Razeal again. This time, his gaze was sharp. Focused. Not just suspicion, but something deeper wonder, maybe.

"Kid," the old man said, voice low. "Can you really see it? The flows?"

Razeal tilted his head. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I can," he replied casually, like he’d just said he could see the weather.

The old man stared at him. Hard. Still not believing it.

This kid looked too damn stupid to comprehend something this complex.

Even for him when he started past, it took centuries just to sense the flows let alone see them. And even then, only one at a time.

No way.

"Fine," the old man said, raising a hand. "Then tell me... what color is this one?" He pointed randomly into the air.

Razeal’s eyes flicked toward the direction and casually replied, "That one? Violet."

The old man’s brows drew together. "Alright... this one?" He pointed again.

"Hmm... Something close to pink," Razeal answered.

"This one?"

"White."

"And that?"

"Electric blue."

"What about over there?"

"That’s... a dense yellow. Almost like golden syrup."

The old man kept going, pointing, testing, changing directions rapidly

And yet every time, Razeal answered instantly, casually, without hesitation.

Color after color.

Direction after direction.

Though after many back-and-forths, the old man finally gave up. His face was twisted in something between disbelief and irritation, like he had just chewed on a lemon and couldn’t decide if it was worth the flavor.

His brows furrowed deeply, voice low and brooding, "Just how the fuck did you do it? I know for damn sure you didn’t have any prior knowledge about this."

Razeal blinked, caught a bit off guard. He opened his mouth as if to reply, paused, then closed it again clearly thinking of what might be the most appropriately arrogant answer.

"Actually... will you believe me if I say I’m the most talented person in existence? The Supreme Leader of All Villains?" Razeal raised one finger with a dramatic flair, a ridiculous amount of pride painted across his face.

Whatever curiosity the old man had left just dropped dead.

"Leave it," he muttered, already turning away, hands behind his back. "I’m not even interested anymore. Judging by your behavior, I can tell you won’t last long. Not unless you break take care of this attitude of yours. You have no clue what talent actually means. If learning fast was all there was to talent, you wouldn’t believe how many people are born like that every second."

He shook his head with visible disappointment. There was no admiration, no surprise, no acknowledgement. As if Razeal’s accomplishment was a pebble thrown in an ocean.

"Anyway, you have thirteen minutes left, you know that?" the old man added casually.

"Ehhhh?!" Razeal snapped out of his leisure state, jolting forward. The lack of praise stung a little, but what really hit him was the ticking clock. He hadn’t even gotten a moment to revel in his triumph. This old man? Completely unphased. Razeal felt like he just unveiled the secrets of the cosmos and got a shrug in return.

Seriously, Razeal thought. Just what kind of monstrous events does this old guy have to witness on a daily basis to be so unfazed by this?

He literally just learned the thing this man claimed no one else could ever master... and the best he could manage was a shrug and a "not interested"?

Fucking weirdo, Razeal muttered in his head.

But with no time to dwell on his bruised ego, Razeal jumped straight to business. Since no time to waste.

"Teach me how to use the flow, then. Senior," he said, stepping directly in front of the old man now, gaze firm.

Inside his mind, he gave a silent order.

System, make sure my Absolute Dark Genius skill is always active.

[It’s a passive skill, host,] the system responded dryly. [It’s always on. It just depends on whether you truly want to learn from the depths of your will. If you do, it’ll activate.]

There was a brief pause, as if the system wanted to say more.

[And for the record... this isn’t your genius. It’s the skill. Just saying.]

But it held its tongue, knowing time was short and Razeal was focused.

Razeal didn’t bother responding. He understood, and that was enough.

The old man sighed heavily.

"You won’t be able to learn it, kid. And even if you do, you won’t be able to use it," he said bluntly.

Razeal frowned, lifting his head.

"Why?"

"There is one major flaw in using flow. A fatal one. Even if you figure out how to use it, you won’t survive it. You might end up killing yourself."

Razeal blinked. But then his expression shifted as understanding clicked.

"Oh, right... it must be the pressure, huh? Like, the stress from using the flow damaging your own body? Like, it hurts you more than it hurts them?"

He remembered the sword earlier the way it shattered from the force alone. He had already suspected this.

But just as he was about to speak again, the old man continued.

"Your physical construction is too normal. You’re weak," the old man said flatly. "Even if you manage to draw out a tiny fraction of the flow’s power, there’s a good chance your own bones will be reduced to powder. You won’t even know when it happens it’ll be instantaneous."

He looked Razeal over, shaking his head.

"You just can’t. Without a powerful constitution, knowing how to use the flow is like being the world’s greatest swordsman without arms. What good is mastery if your body can’t handle the art?"

He spread his hands wide as if the logic was obvious.

"It’s like knowing how to use the world’s sharpest sword but having no hands to hold it. Talent and knowledge? Worthless, if you don’t have the vessel to endure it."

Razeal blinked again, but this time, his lips curved into a smirk.

"Bones into powder, huh?" he murmured, voice laced with amusement. For some reason, at moments like these, he always remembered that insane woman... someone he rarely gave credit to. But today? He might just thank her.

"Don’t worry, senior," Razeal said, puffing out his chest slightly. "My bones... they’re stronger than you can imagine."

He patted his arm proudly, the thud echoing with more than just bravado.

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