The Villains Must Win-Chapter 288: The Void 1

"You get perfect stars," the bunny said proudly, brushing off its fluffy paws as though it had done all the work.

Its beady eyes flicked to me and noticed my silence. "What’s the matter? Aren’t you glad you scored a perfect ten stars?"

"Well, yeah," I muttered, slouching back and folding my arms. "But I’m not really satisfied with the ending. That Lucian is tough. No matter what I did, he didn’t love me again."

The bunny snorted, then laughed so hard its ears flopped like broken antennae. "What’s this? Are you obsessing over males now? That’s new."

"No way!" I snapped, clicking my tongue. "I just feel like I could’ve won him over. Now I feel like I’ve failed an otome game."

"Failed, she says," the bunny deadpanned. "You got perfect stars and you’re still sulking. Is winning all you ever think about?"

"Of course I am! What’s life if you’re not winning all the time? The thrill, the challenge, the high you get when you crush the game and come out on top—that’s what I live for!"

The bunny tilted its head like a disinterested teacher listening to an overeager student. "Mm. Yes. World domination, victory, crushing your enemies, blah blah blah. How inspiring." Its flat tone made it clear it wasn’t inspired at all.

I jabbed a finger at it. "Don’t dismiss me like that!"

"Fine, fine." The bunny waved a tiny paw as if shooing away a fly. "Anyway, since you’ve cleared two Rank-A worlds with perfect stars . . ."

I perked up instantly, my eyes gleaming. "I can move to Rank-S?!"

The bunny blinked slowly. ". . . Not exactly."

I froze. ". . . What do you mean not exactly?"

"The requirement for entering a Rank-S world," the bunny explained in the tone of someone reading grocery receipts, "is at least five hundred stars or clearing ten Rank-A worlds."

My jaw dropped. "Five hundred? Ten Rank-As? That’s insane!"

"Insane?" the bunny smirked. "No, legendary. You said you like winning, right?"

I clicked my tongue again, this time loud enough to echo. "Tch. Legendary, huh. Fine. Still, I thought I’d at least get a ticket in."

"You’re such a greedy brat." The bunny chuckled, then puffed up its chest. "But you’ve unlocked something else."

I raised a brow. "Yeah? What’s that?"

"The Void."

"The Void?" I repeated, wrinkling my nose. "Uh, excuse me? Am I not already in the void? Black skies, no furniture, creepy glowing rabbit—you sure fooled me."

The bunny slapped its face with its paw. "Technically, you’ve just been standing outside the entrance of the Void this whole time. Congratulations, you’ve been loitering at the lobby."

". . . You’re kidding me."

"Not at all. Usually it takes about a hundred stars to access it, but since you pulled off two perfect clears on Rank-A worlds, you get a VIP ticket."

My irritation vanished, replaced by a sharp grin. "Ohhh. Now we’re talking. So, is this like a city? Or a whole world? Or, I don’t know, some theme park with overpriced food stalls and ominous death traps?"

The bunny wiggled its nose. "You’ll see once we’re inside."

And with a lazy wave of its paw, the world around us shattered like glass.

The nothingness gave way to a place that looked like it had been ripped straight out of an alien fever dream.

An island suspended in perpetual darkness. The sky wasn’t black—it was an endless swirl of violet storms and cold, jagged stars that blinked too close for comfort.

The ground wasn’t dirt or stone but a smooth, metallic surface etched with glowing sings that pulsed like veins. Towers of silver and glass pierced the darkness, structures that seemed grown rather than built, their edges humming with energy.

It wasn’t modern. It wasn’t classical. It wasn’t even dystopian.

It was futuristic—so advanced it felt almost wrong. Like I had stepped into the playground of an alien species that had long since transcended the need for petty things like money, time, morality, or common sense.

I whistled low, my grin widening. "Now this . . . this is my kind of place."

The bunny, of course, ruined the moment. "Careful not to drool on the floor. The Void doesn’t like tourists slobbering over its aesthetic."

"Shut up," I muttered, stepping forward. My boots clicked against the glowing surface, and the signs flared brighter under my steps, as if acknowledging me—or warning me. I couldn’t decide which. "So, what’s the catch? There’s always a catch."

"Catch?" The bunny tilted its head innocently. "Well, let’s just say the Void isn’t exactly a place where you come to rest. Think of it as . . . the grand central hub for those who’ve survived enough worlds to matter."

"’Survived enough to matter,’ huh?" I smirked, resting a hand on my hip. "Sounds like my kind of VIP club."

"Or your kind of villains place," the bunny muttered under its breath.

I pretended not to hear.

And that’s when I realized—

I wasn’t alone.

There were people. No, not just people.

Countless species walked the streets of the Void.

Some looked vaguely humanoid—tall, sharp-faced beings with crystalline skin that reflected the stormy sky like fractured mirrors. Others were grotesque yet mesmerizing, creatures with too many eyes and not enough mouths, cloaked in shadows that seemed to move independently of their bodies.

I even spotted one that looked like a molten golem, its skin glowing as cracks of fire escaped every time it exhaled.

And mixed between them were . . . humans. Actual humans.

Some in ragged uniforms, others in casual outfits that made me think they were just yanked from their world mid-shopping spree.

A few even looked battle-hardened, wearing armor etched with scratches and bloodstains that didn’t look fake.

I exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at my lips. "Well . . . at least I won’t be the only idiot wandering this oversized alien island."

"Correction," the bunny hopped along beside me, its ears twitching as it dodged a lumbering lizard beast that carried baskets of glowing eggs on its back. "You’ll just be the freshest idiot here. Like a tourist holding a camera and a map."

"Shut up," I muttered, though my eyes never stopped darting around.