I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

The city of Ocryphia had activated its highest alert protocol, plunging the metropolis into a state of unparalleled emergency. The streets buzzed with panic and despair as the city faced an existential threat unlike any before it.
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Ocryphia wasn't under siege by a group of terrorists or an organized force. No, the devastation was caused by a single individual—a woman of otherworldly beauty, as though she had stepped straight out of a divine realm.

She was like a harbinger of destruction, slaughtering Hunters by the dozens. Even the elite S-Rank Hunters, Ocryphia's best, fell before her like leaves. Their attempts to stop her were futile; they couldn't even mount a proper resistance before meeting instantaneous, grisly ends.

It was a nightmare brought to life.

The once-thriving city was drenched in blood and echoed with unending screams. Chaos ruled the night as residents fled in terror, desperate to escape the path of the goddess. Yet none could predict her next move, as she moved, as if searching for someone hidden. And in her search, she left nothing but ruin in her wake.

At the heart of the carnage, the woman stood surrounded by hundreds of Hunters, their weapons and skills ready. Among the gathered elite was Isabel Asterion, the Headmistress of Ocryphia Academy.

"What in the world is that…?" Isabel whispered, as her gaze locked on the figure before her—a radiant, floating woman who could indeed be mistaken for a goddess if she wasn't indeed a Goddess.

"L–Lady Asterion!" One of the Hunters stumbled toward her, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "She's too strong! None of our attacks have any effect, and we've already lost four S-Rank Hunters!"

Isabel's expression darkened.

If this woman could eliminate several S-Rank Hunters with such ease, her strength had to surpass theirs. She was almost certainly an SS-Rank threat.

"Do we know what she wants? Why is she doing this?" Isabel asked.

"No, Milady. She appears to be looking for someone, but she won't say anything. She ignores all our attempts to communicate and kills anyone who gets too close…"

Isabel clenched her fists. Then she stepped forward as she positioned herself directly before the figure.

"I am Isabel Asterion," she said, looking up. "This level of violence and senseless murder against innocent people will not be tolerated. Reinforcements stronger than those you've faced are on their way. If you surrender now, there may yet be a chance for you to survive. But if you continue this unjustified rampage, you will meet your end."

Isabel's words fell on deaf ears. The goddess remained utterly unaffected, her focus was locked onto her prey that finally found out.

Beneath the wreckage of a car, her target cowered.

With a single wave of her hand, Queen disintegrated the vehicle into dust, its metallic fragments evaporating into nothingness. There, trembling and shielding her ears, was Sherilyn.

Sherilyn flinched as the oppressive aura washed over her, her blood running cold. Slowly, she raised her gaze and found herself staring into the unearthly eyes of Queen.

"P–Please…" Sherilyn pleaded as she instinctively tried to crawl backward.

But before she could say another word—

-Spurt!

With a flick of her fingers, Queen moved a bloodied sword from one of the fallen Hunters. The blade hovered in the air for a mere second before plunging mercilessly into Sherilyn's stomach.

"Ahh…!" Sherilyn gasped, her breath faltering as she looked down. Blood pooled from the wound, and the life drained from her eyes. Her body crumpled to the ground, trembling as her vision blurred.

But Queen wasn't done.

She descended gracefully, as she approached Sherilyn's broken form. Queen's beauty remained intact, but the darkness behind her eyes was frighteningly visible for everyone.

This wasn't mere rage; it was something deeper and darker.

Directed toward the woman who dared to keep company to King while she was away unaware, and mourning.

Queen reached out, her hand raised, preparing to enact a punishment far worse than death.

"No! Don't move!"

Isabel appeared in front of Sherilyn, placing herself between the dying girl and Queen.

-Slap!

With a casual wave of her hand, Queen struck Isabel, sending the Headmistress hurtling hundreds of meters through the air. Her body crashed into the side of a building, the impact leaving a crater of rubble and dust.

The remaining Hunters froze in place, paralyzed by fear. They had seen what happened to those who challenged this being. Their hands trembled on their weapons, but no one dared to move. To act was to invite certain death.

All they could do was watch helplessly as Queen loomed over Sherilyn.

Sherilyn's lips moved faintly, her voice barely audible. "K–King…" She whispered, tears streaming down her face as her body shuddered in its final moments.

Queen's expression turned colder, if such a thing were possible.

"You are not worthy of him," she said softly. "He belongs to me, and me alone."

She raised her hand again, this time preparing to tear Sherilyn apart, limb by limb.

-Whoosh.

Suddenly the air grew softer as an unfamiliar sensation swept through the area. From above, a handful of black feathers drifted down.

Queen froze mid-movement—not in wonder, but because her wrist had been caught.

"I think that's enough, Queen," a soft voice said.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she turned her gaze to the side. There, standing beside her, was a man unlike any other.

His long, ashen blond hair flowed back, and his piercing golden eyes, slit like a Devil's, exuded a enthralling presence. His attire was simple—a black shirt with his arms and hands adorned with strange rings and bracelets—but his aura was anything but ordinary.

His face was angelic, a visage that seemed almost crafted to rival Queen herself. Yet, the most striking feature of all…

Black wings.

Large, feathered, and definitely angelic, the man's wings extended behind him in a display of majesty.

"Is that… a dream?" One of the Hunters muttered, laughing nervously in disbelief.

The goddess now faced a Fallen Angel.

"L-Lucifer..." Someone muttered with a pale face before stumbling on the ground. His words quickly spread everywhere around sealing the name of the Fallen Angel as Lucifer.

Unfortunately he wasn't Lucifer.

Uzen Abraxas, also known as Azrael.

Azrael was no ordinary figure. Among the Seven Antagonists, there were only three who could rival Queen in power. Of those three, only two could definitively overpower her: Ivan and Azrael.

Ivan's presence here was out of the question. His face was too well-known, and his appearance would attract unnecessary chaos and complications. That left only one option—Azrael.

For a moment, the world stood still as the two beings confronted each other.

Queen's gaze locked onto Azrael, her eyes filled with equal parts suspicion and recognition. He, in turn, regarded her with a soft smile that carried clear affection.

The way he looked at her, the way his presence radiated calm yet familiarity—it was eerily reminiscent of King. She could feel it, deep in her very being. Though his appearance was different, though his essence was veiled, it was definitely him.

If it hadn't been, she would have already disintegrated anyone foolish enough to touch her.

Black feathers began to swirl and envelop Sherilyn's lifeless body as Azrael kept his golden eyes fixed on Queen.

But Queen was far from appeased.

Her free hand raised abruptly toward Sherilyn's body, her expression turning colder than ever.

-BOOOOM!

A massive shockwave exploded outward, obliterating everything within a fifty-meter radius. Houses crumbled into dust, rubble flying in all directions. The sheer force hurled Hunters through the air, their bodies crashing against walls and streets. Some never rose again.

When the chaos settled, Queen and Azrael were no longer on the ground.

They hovered high in the sky, silhouetted against the pale glow of the moon.

Azrael stood, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his black pants. His massive black wings spread wide, their edges glinting faintly under the moonlight as they flapped lazily.

Queen hovered opposite him.

A tense moment passed before Queen finally broke the silence.

"My King," she called.

"My Queen," Azrael answered with a small smile.

Queen's gaze narrowed slightly. "I saw your dead body."

She had seen his lifeless form—held it, preserved it, clung to it desperately. Night after night for seven nights, she had slept beside his corpse, their daughter cradled in her arms. That fragile connection to him, even in death, had been the only thread keeping her from unleashing her wrath upon the entire world.

And now, here he was. Alive, breathing, and standing before her. Yet… he was different.

"You were dead. And now you stand before me… with another face."

Azrael's golden eyes softened "There's much to explain, my Queen. But for now… I'm here. Let's go somewhere else."

"No," Queen rejected instantly.

She pointed toward Sherilyn's lifeless body, now shrouded in Azrael's black feathers. "That thing. Kill it," she said coldly. "Then we'll return to our world. Tell me the names of those who killed you, and I'll ensure they suffer. I'll torture them for seven days, then destroy that useless world you were from. They never deserved you."

"..." Azrael remained silent, his golden eyes steady on her.

But Queen wasn't finished. Her expression darkened.

"You left me alone all this time, while you enjoyed yourself here?" She narrowed her white-grey eyes. "Unforgivable."

She clenched her fists, and golden-white particles gathered.

"I'll destroy this 'precious world' you've taken a liking to. And then…" Her voice became tender. "I'll make sure you never leave me again."

"Atla," Azrael called her again but by her true name.

But it was too late.

Queen had already moved.

-BOOOOM!