The Villian Who Broke The Story

The crescent moon slash crossed the world.

That was the only way I could describe it.

The silver arc expanded endlessly as it traveled, splitting apart the darkness itself while moonlight flooded the strange dimension around me. The sheer pressure behind the attack made my entire body lock in place instinctively.

My mind screamed at me to move.

To dodge.

To run.

But the attack wasn’t something a human body could react to.

It wasn’t fast.

It simply arrived.

BOOOOOOM!!!

The crescent slash crashed into the distant horizon, splitting apart mountains that hadn’t even been visible moments earlier. The shockwave alone nearly blew me off my feet, silver energy ripping across the endless black landscape like tidal waves beneath the moonlit sky.

I stared silently.

My breathing stopped completely.

Because that single attack—

Was stronger than anything I had ever seen in the game.

The man lowered his blade calmly, as though what he had just done wasn’t enough to erase entire cities.

Then he moved again.

And the world changed.

The moonlight intensified.

Silver particles floated through the air around him while countless crescent-shaped symbols appeared beneath his feet. The atmosphere itself felt heavier now, almost sacred.

The man slowly raised his blade toward the heavens.

”Second Style,” he said quietly.

The moon above split into multiple reflections.

”Moon Reflection.”

His sword moved once.

Suddenly dozens of silver afterimages appeared around him simultaneously, each unleashing crescent slashes in different directions. Every strike bent unnaturally, curving through space itself before converging onto a single point far in the distance.

The moment they connected—

The world exploded.

I narrowed my eyes.

”A tracking sword technique?” I thought immediately.

No.

It was worse.

The attack didn’t track movement.

It tracked existence itself.

You couldn’t dodge something like that conventionally.

The man continued without pause.

Third Style: Lunar Eclipse

Darkness swallowed the moonlight completely.

For one horrifying second, the entire dimension went black.

Then—

A single silver line appeared.

The swordsman vanished.

Everything behind him split apart silently.

Mountains.

The sky.

Even space itself.

The cut appeared only after he sheathed the blade.

A delayed slash.

One capable of severing reality itself.

Cold sweat ran down my back.

Fourth Style: Falling Moon

The swordsman leapt upward lightly.

Then descended.

One downward slash.

A gigantic moon-shaped construct materialized above the battlefield before crashing downward like divine punishment.

The impact erased an entire section of the landscape.

Not destroyed.

Erased.

Nothing remained.

Fifth Style: Moonlit Tide

Silver mana flooded outward endlessly from beneath his feet, forming waves resembling an ocean under moonlight.

Then the waves became blades.

Thousands of moon crescents surged across the world simultaneously.

A battlefield annihilation technique.

Sixth Style: Crescent Fang

Fast.

Too fast.

The swordsman vanished repeatedly, each movement accompanied by curved silver slashes that tore through the air from impossible angles.

This wasn’t swordsmanship anymore.

It looked closer to teleportation.

Seventh Style: Heavenly Orbit

Seven silver moons formed behind him.

Each one rotated slowly before firing concentrated beams of lunar energy powerful enough to distort space wherever they passed.

Long-range artillery.

Divine artillery.

Eighth Style: Waning Silence

The world became quiet.

Completely quiet.

Even my breathing disappeared.

Then the swordsman stepped forward and cut once.

I didn’t see the slash.

I only saw the consequences.

Everything within his range suddenly collapsed apart into perfect halves.

Silently.

Ninth Style: Silver Horizon

One horizontal slash.

That’s all.

Yet the attack stretched endlessly beyond sight, dividing the world at the horizon line itself.

Tenth Style: Moon Burial

The ground beneath the target transformed into a massive glowing lunar seal.

Then silver blades erupted upward endlessly like a graveyard made entirely of moonlight.

A sealing execution technique.

Eleventh Style: Celestial Mirage

Multiple copies of the swordsman appeared around the battlefield.

Not illusions.

Every single clone carried real killing intent.

Each one unleashed different forms of the Moon Style simultaneously.

I genuinely couldn’t tell which one was the original.

Twelfth Style: Full Moon Descent

The moon above grew larger.

Larger.

Larger.

Until it filled the sky entirely.

The pressure alone forced me to one knee.

Then the swordsman slashed upward.

The gigantic moon descended.

I watched an entire world collapse beneath silver light.

Thirteenth Style: Endless Night

Darkness consumed everything again.

But unlike Lunar Eclipse—

This darkness was alive.

Moonlight flickered endlessly inside the shadows before attacks began emerging from every direction simultaneously.

An unavoidable domain technique.

Fourteenth Style: Divine Crescent

The swordsman closed his eyes.

For the first time since the performance began, his aura changed.

It became transcendent.

Untouchable.

When he swung his sword this time, the crescent slash carried something deeper than mana.

Authority.

The slash tore through the heavens themselves.

Stars disappeared.

Fifteenth Style: Moon God’s Lament

The atmosphere turned sorrowful.

That was the only word for it.

The swordsman moved slowly, almost gently, as silver tears resembling moonlight fell from the sky around him.

Then he thrust his blade forward.

The world shattered.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Everything around me felt overwhelmed by grief so profound it bordered on madness.

A mental and spiritual attack.

Then finally—

The final form.

The swordsman stood silently beneath the endless moonlit sky.

No aura.

No pressure.

No movement.

Nothing.

The moon above disappeared entirely.

Darkness consumed heaven and earth.

Then two silver eyes opened in the void behind him.

Ancient.

Cold.

Absolute.

The swordsman raised his blade one final time.

”Sixteenth Style,” he whispered.

The world stopped.

”Celestial Moonfall.”

He swung downward.

And for one impossible moment—

I saw the moon itself fall from the heavens.

The attack descended slowly, beautifully, carrying enough power to erase existence itself. Reality distorted violently around the descending moon while cracks spread through space like broken glass.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t even comprehend what I was witnessing.

Then—

Everything vanished.

The world shifted instantly.

The moonlit battlefield disappeared entirely.

I blinked.

And suddenly found myself seated inside a quiet Japanese-style room.

A low wooden table sat between me and the swordsman.

Tea rested on the table, steam rising softly into the air.

The man now sat calmly across from me.

Close enough for me to properly see him.

Long black hair.

Silver eyes resembling moonlight.

A calm expression carrying centuries of exhaustion.

The pressure surrounding him was gone now.

He looked... human.

I froze slightly before muttering quietly:

”...Tsukiyomi Kenshiro.”

The man nodded slowly.

A fitting name.

Tsukiyomi — Moon God.

Kenshiro — Sword Heart.

”So you’re the fated... anomaly,” he said calmly.

The moment the word left his mouth—

Static rang through my head.

Like reality itself rejecting the statement.

”...What?” I frowned immediately.

Kenshiro simply stared at me silently.

”This never happened in the game,” I thought instantly.

In every route involving the Celestial Moon Style, the hidden inheritance dimension was automated. The player watched recordings. Learned forms. Received the ring.

There was never direct conversation.

Never awareness.

Never this.

”I didn’t hear the last statement you made,” I said slowly.

Kenshiro smiled faintly.

”Well, that’s because the universe doesn’t want you to.”

The answer only made my frown deepen further.

”Don’t fret over it,” he continued calmly. ”The fact you reached this place at all already means causality has begun collapsing.”

That sentence was somehow even worse.

I stayed silent.

Kenshiro picked up the tea calmly before continuing.

”But I am glad you chose Perfect Copy.”

My eyes narrowed instantly.

”You know about my ability?”

”Of course.”

His answer came naturally.

”As the creator of the Celestial Moon Style, I specifically designed it for someone like you.”

I froze.

”...What?”

Kenshiro leaned slightly forward.

”That way I wouldn’t need to worry about whether my successor could actually learn the style.”

He tapped the table lightly.

”Because your human body cannot perform it.”

Silence filled the room.

I stared at him.

Then finally asked:

”Why?”

Kenshiro smiled slightly.

”It’s a technique created to counter the strongest God I know.”

His silver eyes met mine directly.

”And you think a human body can withstand that burden?”

A chill ran down my spine.

The strongest God.

There was only one being in the story that description could refer to.

The Sun.

The previous incarnation of the protagonist.

The rival of the Moon.

Suddenly everything clicked together in my mind.

The Celestial Moon Style wasn’t merely swordsmanship.

It was a weapon.

A divine killing art specifically designed to fight a god.

Which meant—

Every form I had just witnessed was incomplete.

Because a human body physically couldn’t use the true versions.

Kenshiro slowly began fading into silver particles.

His time was ending.

”I suppose I’m finally returning to the Realm,” he said quietly.

The Realm.

The higher plane where gods and transcendent beings existed.

Before fully disappearing, he looked at me one last time.

”Since you’re my successor...”

A silver ring appeared atop the wooden table.

”I’ll leave you a little something.”

Then—

Tsukiyomi Kenshiro vanished completely.

The room became silent.

I stared at the ring for several seconds before slowly picking it up.

The moment my fingers touched it, moonlight pulsed faintly across its surface.

I sighed quietly.

”I’m sure the god he’s was talking about is the previous incarnation of the main character,” I thought.

The symbolism wasn’t subtle.

The Sun and the Moon.

Rivals since ancient times.

I slipped the ring onto my finger.

Then stood up.

The room behind me dissolved instantly.

I stepped back into the hidden basement beneath the Velvet Gang base.

And froze.

Everything was gone.

The once-hidden underground corridors had collapsed almost completely. Rubble covered the floors while blood stained the broken walls.

Silence filled the ruins.

No Velvet Gang members remained alive nearby.

No fighters.

No screams.

Only destruction.

Then I felt it.

A monstrous pressure descended from above.

Slowly—

I looked upward.

The demon hovered in the air outside the destroyed base, dark energy spiraling endlessly around its body.

But the strange part wasn’t its aura.

It was its eyes.

Locked directly onto me.

The demon smiled.

And for the first time since arriving in this world—

I felt genuine danger crawl down my spine.