**EPISODE NINE**
**"THE VILLAIN WHO ASKED PERMISSION"**
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**1. WHEN NIGHT ARRIVES UNINVITED**
Night came without warning.
Not sunset... *night*.
One moment the sky still carried the bruised purples of dusk, and the next it collapsed into black, stars blinking out like thoughts abandoned mid-sentence.
Milo woke gasping.
The fire had died.
Not burned out... *stopped*.
No embers. No ash. Just cold stones where heat had been moments before.
Diana was already on her feet, sword drawn. Tarzan crouched at the edge of the clearing, muscles taut, eyes locked on the darkness beyond the trees. Gandalf stood motionless, staff dim, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"This is not natural night," Gandalf said quietly.
Milo hugged his knees. "Nothing's been natural since I made heroism optional."
As if summoned by the words, footsteps echoed from the darkness.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Unhurried.
Someone was approaching who did not fear interruption.
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**2. THE ENTRANCE WITHOUT DRAMA**
He stepped into the clearing alone.
No thunder.
No fire.
No army at his back.
Just a man in dark, travel-worn clothing, hands visible, posture relaxed. His face was sharp, intelligent, and marked by the kind of confidence that came from *expectation*, not arrogance.
He stopped several paces from the group and bowed slightly.
"Good evening," he said. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Diana did not lower her sword. "State your name."
The man smiled apologetically. "I was hoping we could discuss that."
Milo's heart hammered. "You're not frozen," he whispered.
"No," the man agreed. "That's rather the issue."
Gandalf's eyes narrowed. "You are aware of the shift."
"Painfully," the man said. "Which is why I'm here."
Tarzan circled slowly, sniffing the air. "You carry blood," he said. "But not fresh."
The man nodded. "I used to."
Silence thickened.
Finally, the man inhaled, steadying himself.
"I believe," he said carefully, "that under the old rules, I would now begin a monologue."
Milo blinked. "What?"
"Yes," the man continued, almost embarrassed. "I would explain my tragic past, justify my grievances, threaten you, and initiate a conflict designed to test your resolve."
He spread his hands.
"But I find myself uncertain whether I'm *allowed* to do that anymore."
The console at Milo's side pulsed.
**ANTAGONISTIC INTENT: UNDECLARED**
Milo swallowed. "You're a villain."
The man winced. "Formerly."
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**3. A REQUEST THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST**
Diana stepped forward. "If you intend harm, do it. If not, leave."
The man shook his head. "I intend harm," he said plainly. "That part hasn't changed."
Milo's stomach dropped.
"But," the man continued, "I no longer know if I am *entitled* to it."
Gandalf's staff glowed faintly. "Explain yourself."
The man exhaled slowly, as if bracing for humiliation.
"My name," he said, "is Valen Kor."
The name struck nothing.
No prophecy stirred.
No ominous chord resonated.
Valen noticed... and flinched.
"That's… new," he murmured.
He straightened. "I was raised for conquest. Trained to overthrow kingdoms. My cause was righteous, my methods regrettable, my destiny assured."
Diana's eyes hardened. "And now?"
"And now," Valen said quietly, "the banners that once followed me hesitate. My enemies do not rise to meet me. My hatred feels… unclaimed."
Milo felt a chill. "You came here because... "
"Because," Valen interrupted, voice cracking just slightly, "for the first time, I don't know whether the world *needs* me to be terrible."
The console chimed.
**VILLAIN ARCHETYPE: UNSTABLE**
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**4. THE MOST DANGEROUS QUESTION**
Valen met Milo's gaze directly.
"I want permission," he said.
The words hit the clearing like a physical blow.
"Permission?" Diana echoed, incredulous.
"Yes," Valen said. "To proceed."
"To proceed with *what*?" Milo asked.
"With being your enemy," Valen replied simply.
Silence stretched.
Tarzan growled low in his throat. "Predator does not ask prey."
Valen nodded. "Exactly. And yet... here I am."
Gandalf studied Valen intently. "You are not confused," he said. "You are afraid."
Valen did not deny it.
"If I act without narrative necessity," Valen said, "then my violence is just violence. My cruelty, just cruelty. And I... "
He swallowed.
"I do not know if I can bear that."
Milo felt something inside him twist painfully.
He remembered the villagers.
The refusal.
The cost.
"You're asking me," Milo said slowly, "to make you relevant."
Valen inclined his head. "Yes."
Diana's voice was sharp. "Do not do this."
"Why not?" Milo asked.
"Because villains don't get absolution," she snapped. "They get opposition."
Valen flinched.
Milo looked between them.
"Under the old system," Milo said, "you wouldn't have had to ask."
"No," Valen agreed. "And you wouldn't have had a choice."
The console pulsed harder.
**AUTHORITY REQUEST DETECTED**
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**5. THE COST OF SAYING YES**
Milo closed his eyes.
If he granted permission, he would be reinstating hierarchy... deciding who mattered enough to oppose, who deserved resistance.
If he refused...
Valen would still act.
But without meaning.
Without structure.
Without limits.
"You don't want to be free," Milo said softly.
Valen's shoulders slumped. "No," he admitted. "I want to be *necessary*."
Diana stepped closer to Milo, voice low. "If you do this, you make him important."
"And if I don't?" Milo asked.
Diana hesitated.
"You make him honest," Gandalf said quietly.
Milo looked at Valen. "If I say no, will you stop?"
Valen met his eyes.
"No," he said.
"Will you still hurt people?"
"Yes."
"Then what changes?"
Valen's voice dropped to a whisper. "Whether I am alone when I do it."
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
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**6. THE ANSWER NO ONE EXPECTED**
Milo knelt, bringing himself level with Valen.
"I won't give you permission," he said.
Valen's face fell.
"But," Milo continued, "I won't stop you either."
Diana stared at him. "Milo... "
"I'm done assigning roles," Milo said firmly. "You don't get to be *the* villain."
Valen's brow furrowed. "Then what am I?"
Milo met his gaze steadily.
"Someone who chooses," he said. "And lives with it."
The console chimed.
**ANTAGONISM: UNSANCTIONED**
**CONSEQUENCE: UNBUFFERED**
Valen staggered as if struck.
"I feel it," he whispered. "The weight."
Gandalf nodded grimly. "No narrative armor. No destined downfall. No glorious justification."
Valen laughed softly... broken, almost hysterical.
"So this is what it means to matter," he said. "Without applause."
He straightened, resolve hardening.
"Then I will go," he said.
"To do what?" Diana demanded.
Valen looked at the dark horizon.
"To act," he said. "And find out who I am without permission."
He turned... and walked into the night.
The darkness accepted him.
---
**7. AFTERMATH**
No explosion followed.
No immediate consequence.
Just silence.
Milo collapsed onto the ground, shaking.
Diana knelt beside him. "You just unleashed something terrible."
"Yes," Milo said. "And something honest."
The console flickered again.
A new log appeared.
**FIRST UNSANCTIONED VILLAIN RECORDED**
**MORAL CERTAINTY: DECLINING**
**NEXT EVENT: NON-NARRATIVE CONFLICT**
Far away...
Valen Kor drew his blade.
Not because destiny demanded it.
But because he chose to.
And the universe...
For the first time...
Did not look away.
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**8. THE QUESTION EVOLVES**
As sleep finally claimed Milo, the console displayed its question once more.
It had changed again.
**WHO WRITES THE End...
WHEN EVEN EVIL MUST DECIDE?**
Milo did not answer.
Some questions, he was beginning to realize, were not meant to be solved.
They were meant to be *survived*.
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**END OF EPISODE NINE**
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Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :Maximus.
©All Rights Reserved.