The fire was dying. Only embers clung stubbornly to life, pulsing red in the ash like the eyes of old spirits watching. Beyond the circle of faint light, the night pressed close—alive with the crackle of insects, the hiss of wind in the pines, and the distant call of a wolf.
Sky-Torn sat alone before the embers. His people slept in scattered hides and lean-tos across the glade, exhausted after the day's debates. Tomorrow the council would gather again, deciding whether to yield to the pale-faced traders who promised iron and powder, or to resist and risk the breaking of their fragile unity.
But Sky-Torn's mind was not on politics.
A shimmer coiled in the air above the dying fire.
[Villain System Update: Destiny Divergence Detected.]
Choice Required: Intervene in the council's decision.
Options:
1. Preserve Unity – Guide the clans toward compromise. Reward: 10 Villain Points.
2. Sow Division – Twist words, provoke blood, fracture the council. Reward: 30 Villain Points.
Note: Greater villainy reaps greater power.
The words pulsed in his mind, neither voice nor dream, but something in-between—etched into his very spirit.
He clenched his fists. Division meant doom. Every elder had spoken of it: tribes broken, families at war, easy prey for outsiders. Yet the lure was sharp. Thirty points. He remembered the system's promise—Villain Points could unseal forbidden rites, grant him sight into the weaving threads of fate, strengthen his voice until even chiefs bent unwilling knees.
He should have chosen unity. His heart told him so. But another whisper stirred, one that was his own and yet not: A broken council can be steered. A united council cannot be moved.
Sky-Torn chose.
[Choice Confirmed: Sow Division.]
Villain Points +30. Total: 45.]
[New Ability Unlocked: Whisper of Doubt – Plant unease in the minds of others. Success depends on target's willpower.]
The embers hissed as though spitting at him.
⸻
Morning rose raw and gray. The council gathered beneath the sacred oak, its branches stretching like the ribs of an ancient beast. Chiefs and speakers from each clan sat cross-legged, faces painted in solemn colors. Smoke from cedar bundles curled skyward, carrying prayers to the ancestors.
Sky-Torn took his place among the shamans, though eyes slid toward him with suspicion. He was young to sit in that circle, and his dreams were too loud.
The first debates unfolded as expected: the Wolf clan urging war, the Turtle clan pleading caution, the Crane clan lost in endless metaphors. Sky-Torn waited, silent, the new power thrumming beneath his ribs.
Then he leaned forward.
His voice was low, respectful, almost hesitant. Yet each word carried a seed.
He spoke of the pale-faces' gifts—iron that never dulled, cloth woven tighter than spider silk. "Would we not be fools to refuse such power, when our neighbors accept it?" he asked. [Whisper of Doubt activated. Success roll… Success.]
The Turtle chief frowned, uncertainty flickering.
Sky-Torn turned his words sharper. He reminded the Wolf clan how the Turtle once betrayed them in a hunting quarrel years past. "How can trust hold, when old wounds still bleed?" [Whisper of Doubt activated. Success.]
The Wolf chief's eyes narrowed, memories reigniting like dry grass to flame.
And then, soft as drifting ash, he suggested that the Crane had already been dealing with pale-faces in secret. "Why else speak in riddles, if not to hide truth?" [Whisper of Doubt activated. Partial Success. Target resists—Suspicion planted but fragile.]
By the time his voice fell silent, the council no longer sat as one body. Old grudges awoke. Promises cracked. Murmurs became accusations. The air felt heavy with sparks waiting for a torch.
Sky-Torn bowed his head, feigning weariness. Inside, his Villain System pulsed with triumph.
[System Notification: Council Unity reduced by 40%. Future negotiations destabilized.]
[Villain Points +15.]
He had done it. And already he felt the threads of fate tugging differently.
⸻
But victory carried its weight.
That night, when the camp had broken into uneasy clusters instead of one circle, Sky-Torn dreamed again.
He stood upon a plain of bones, endless as the sea. Towers of skulls rose around him, their empty sockets weeping smoke. Across the horizon marched men in armor of iron, their muskets flashing, their banners painted with crosses that dripped blood.
Before him, a single figure waited. It was himself—older, eyes shadowed, cloak ragged with centuries of sin.
"You opened the path," the future-self said. "History will name you butcher, oathbreaker, villain. But without the fracture, there is no survival."
Sky-Torn reached for him, desperate for meaning, but the figure dissolved into ash.
[Villain System Hint: Future Echo observed. The path of villainy ensures legacy, not salvation.]
He woke gasping.
⸻
The next days turned dark. Arguments bled into shouts, then into fistfights. The Wolf clan refused Turtle grain. The Crane stopped offering songs for hunts.
And through it all, Sky-Torn's whispers spread like mold. He did not need to lie outright. A look here, a suggestion there, a gentle stirring of memory. His new ability slipped doubt into every silence.
Yet every point he earned pressed on his chest like a stone.
[Villain Points: 75.]
[Skill Tree Update: Tier 1 unlocked. Options available—]
– Fate Reading (cost 50): Glimpse possible outcomes of a single choice.
– Corrupt Ritual (cost 70): Alter sacred ceremonies to bend destiny.
The options shimmered. Fate itself, to be read like tracks in snow. Or rituals twisted to his will.
His hand trembled as he made his selection.
[Purchase Confirmed: Corrupt Ritual.]
A new knowledge poured into him, raw and intoxicating. He saw the shape of songs reversed, of prayers inverted, of offerings spoiled to draw not ancestors but hungering shadows. The first of many forbidden rites.
He should have recoiled. Instead, a bitter thrill ran through him. If the world was doomed, then better he wielded the doom than let it devour his people blind.
⸻
When the clans gathered for the moon-feast, Sky-Torn made his move.
As drums pounded and dancers leapt, he slipped into the shadows, carrying a small bundle of sacred herbs. He scattered them not in reverence but with subtle corruption, muttering words reversed, binding them to his will.
The fire flared green. Smoke thickened, coiling into faces that were not their ancestors. The dancers stumbled, seized by visions.
Gasps spread through the feast. Some whispered that the ancestors were angry. Others claimed the Wolf's hunger had offended the spirits.
Sky-Torn lifted his staff, feigning alarm, while inside the system whispered:
[Corrupt Ritual Successful. Destiny altered: The clans will never again dance without suspicion. Villain Points +40.]
The drums fell silent. The feast ended in dread.
And Sky-Torn felt the first true taste of power.
⸻
Yet in the silence after, as he returned alone to his lodge, he heard a child crying outside. One of the dancers—a boy from the Turtle clan—still trembled from the vision, eyes wide and unfocused.
Sky-Torn knelt, murmured comfort, and pressed a hand to the child's brow. For a moment, he longed to strip the corruption away, to restore the feast's joy.
But the system whispered: Every bond broken is strength gained. Every fear planted is a step toward your legacy.
He let his hand fall.
The boy's sobs echoed in the night.
⸻
Sky-Torn sat awake until dawn, staring at the green-stained ashes.
He had chosen villainy once. Then again. And again. Each choice felt easier, though the weight on his spirit grew heavier.
The system promised destiny. But already, he wondered—was he steering fate, or merely being steered?
As the sun broke over the trees, painting the world in blood and gold, the Villain System spoke once more:
[Main Quest Unlocked: The Breaking of the Confederacy.]
Objective: Ensure the council's collapse within one turning of the seasons.]
Reward: Unlock Tier 2 of Villain Skill Tree.]
Sky-Torn bowed his head, torn between dread and determination.
The fire of history had been lit. He could no longer step away.
And somewhere, across the sea, pale sails were already catching the wind.