Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 492: Be Afraid Of The Dark I (Part 2)

Chapter 492: Chapter 492: Be Afraid Of The Dark I (Part 2)

The captain led from the front, rifle raised chest-high.

Twenty men followed in tight formation, boots crunching over the blackened gravel. The firelight from the courtyard flickered behind them, turning the cracked walls ahead into looming shapes.

Even before they crossed the threshold, the doubt had started to bleed through the ranks.

"Are we even equipped for this?" one muttered, voice low but not low enough.

"These guys were pros," another said, scanning the ruined mansion. "They really trashed this place."

The captain said nothing at first. His own jaw was locked, the light of his HUD reflecting across the lower half of his face. He frowned, eyes tracking the melted brass near the doorway, the black streaks on the walls that looked too wide for normal gunfire.

A few of the men tightened their grips on their rifles. Others kept glancing upward, toward the half-collapsed balcony above the entrance.

One, younger than the rest, swallowed hard before asking, "You think there’s still enemies in there?"

"Use your fucking x-ray visors," another replied, keeping his own weapon raised as he checked the corners.

The first man’s face creased in irritation, but before he could answer, the captain spoke.

"Don’t bother," he said flatly. "Half the walls in this mansion are lined with lead composite and signal dampeners. You won’t get a read through that."

He paused, scanning the jagged hall beyond the doorway. "Hmm. I don’t like this."

He stepped through first, the beam from his rifle’s light cutting a narrow cone into the ruin ahead. "Move."

The men followed without question, splitting into two lines on either side of him. The sound of their boots carried a quiet rhythm—thud-thud~—as they advanced through the hall.

"Sweep every room," the captain said. "Check every body. Assume enemies are still present, but watch your fire. Your only target is Mr. Richmond. Check in via comms the moment you find something."

"Yes, sir."

He lifted his rifle properly now, stock pressed tight to his shoulder. His finger hovered close to the trigger guard as his gaze swept over the charred remains of furniture, shattered glass, and what was left of the mansion’s grand foyer.

The floor was slick with ash and congealed blood.

’Just what the fuck went on here? he thought.’

A sudden crash ended the quiet—BOOMM~—followed by a groaning creak of metal and plaster.

Half the wall ahead gave way, bringing part of the ceiling with it. Dust billowed out, coating the men in a fine grey layer as loose fragments rolled across the floor.

Weapons came up instantly.

"Eyes up!"

But before the panic could spread, the captain’s voice came through.

"Relax," he said, irritation plain in his tone. "It’s just Rager."

He clicked his tongue, turning toward the sound. The source had come from a side hall, the far door half-caved in where something massive had broken through.

"Rager!" the captain called out. "What’s your status?"

No reply.

The frown returned. He raised his hand, signaling a halt. "Hold on."

The column froze.

Two men already near the damaged door looked back, nodding once. They’d been kneeling beside a pair of corpses—guards by their uniforms—and stood quickly, stepping aside to give the captain room.

He moved up, pausing only long enough to plant his boot. Then—

THUDD~

The door broke inward, splintering against the wall. The captain tilted his head forward in a silent signal. The nearest two men flowed inside immediately, rifles sweeping side to side.

"Left clear."

"Right clear—wait."

Their movements were clean—disciplined. Every man behind them adjusted position automatically, covering angles, checking corners, stepping where debris wouldn’t crunch.

But as the seconds dragged, something in their posture shifted. Their heads turned slower. Their grips on the rifles loosened just slightly.

"Sir," one of them called, voice uneasy. "I think..."

He hesitated, glancing at his partner.

"I think you need to see this."

The captain’s frown didn’t change. He didn’t ask what they meant, didn’t share the edge of nervous curiosity that flickered across the faces of the others behind him. He stepped forward, weapon steady.

The room was wrecked—one entire wall gone, the floor slanted from the impact that had broken it.

Furniture lay overturned, half-crushed. The hole in the far side of the wall looked as though something enormous had been thrown through it, leaving a smear of dirt and broken masonry along the way.

And there, against the far end—partly buried under rubble—lay Rager.

His massive frame was half-shadowed, one arm jutting out, fingers still curled mid-grasp. The rest of him was covered in debris, unmoving.

The captain exhaled through his nose.

"Secure the perimeter," he said.

The men didn’t move for a second. Their eyes stayed on the body in the dark, waiting to see if it would move again.

But it didn’t.

One of the men crouched beside Rager’s exposed hand, the glove on his own palm pressing lightly to the thick wrist. His visor’s light flickered across the corpse’s arm as he waited, unmoving.

After a few seconds, he looked up. "He’s gone, sir."

The captain didn’t react at first. He was still scanning the walls, eyes narrowing at the fractures that spidered through the plaster. At the words, though, he turned, his frown deepening.

"That’s impossible," he said, stepping forward. "I’ve seen him survive worse."

The tone was calm, but there was a trace of disbelief beneath it. He knelt beside the body, brushing a layer of dust away from the upper chest before pressing two fingers to Rager’s thick neck.

No pulse. Nothing but the faint warmth of flesh already cooling.

The captain exhaled slowly. "Something’s not right."

He rose, boots grinding over grit. Then, without warning, he reached down, wrapped a hand around Rager’s wrist, and pulled.

The motion looked effortless, but the result wasn’t.

The debris around the corpse shifted, then exploded outward—crkkk~—as Rager’s massive body came free, slamming to the floor beside the captain with a heavy thud~. Dust and small stones scattered across the room, rolling underfoot.

The two men closest to him—one lean, dark-skinned with a buzzed head; the other broader, his visor cracked from an earlier hit—stumbled back a step. A few chunks of concrete bounced off their armor, but they brushed them away, eyes locked on the captain.

He didn’t look up. He stood over the body, watching as the haze of dust settled again.

The beam from his rifle swept down, crossing Rager’s torso.

And then he saw it.

At the center of the man’s chest was a wound so deep it looked almost hollowed out. The edges were torn, jagged—like something had punched straight through him and twisted on the way out.

Blood had dried in streaks down his ribs, blackened against the skin, but the hole itself looked fresher, the tissue around it still wet.

The captain’s brows drew together. He crouched lower, examining the edges—no burn marks, no shrapnel pattern. Not a weapon blast. Something else.

The dust finished settling just as the two soldiers stepped closer again. The lean one froze mid-step, eyes widening behind his visor.

"What the hell..."

The broader man swallowed audibly, his voice cracking when he spoke. "W–what the hell is that?"

The captain straightened. His hand closed into a fist at his side. The sound of his glove tightening was faint but carried through the still room.

He clicked his comm. "Rager is KIA," he said evenly. "Possible unknown threat present in the house. Do not move alone."

He hesitated, eyes still fixed on the gaping wound. The beam from his rifle lingered there, tracing the outline.

Then, in the same tone—quiet, unshaken—he added, "Estimated class... A or higher."

The comm crackled faintly, the line open, but no one replied.

Only the faint hum of static answered him, mixing with the slow drip of water from the broken ceiling above.

drip~ drip~

He didn’t move for a long moment, just stood staring at the ruin of Rager’s chest—thinking about what it would take to kill something like him.

And whatever it was, he realized, it was still somewhere inside.

The men didn’t need to speak to feel the drop in the air.

Those words meant only one thing—someone, or something, capable of cutting through their heaviest units like wet paper.

Even seasoned operators didn’t shake easy, but this was different. You could train for chaos, not for the kind of monster that made Rager look small.

The two men beside the captain glanced at each other briefly. Neither said anything, but the tension in their grips gave them away—knuckles pale against black gloves, rifles held too tight.

All through the comm channel came the same quiet unease—short breaths, low curses, a cough that cut out halfway.

The captain could picture them: men spread across ruined corridors, watching empty halls through cracked visors and wondering if the next sound meant they’d die.

He stood there, eyes still on Rager’s ruined chest, his thoughts running through every factor that mattered.

Numbers. Coordination. Experience.

Those were their only real advantages against a higher-class threat. But the enemy already had all three. The attack outside had proven it—timed explosions, precise execution, disciplined withdrawal.

Whoever had led this... wasn’t guessing.

That left them with almost nothing.

He exhaled and keyed the comm again. "Alright," he said, his tone steady. "Code Two Alpha."

A quiet ripple of acknowledgment followed, though one voice broke the stillness behind him.

"What’s that again?" the younger man whispered, his tone unsteady.

His partner frowned and jabbed the hilt of his rifle lightly against his arm. "It means we’re allowed to leave if we don’t think we can manage the threat. We’ll only get paid half, maybe less."

The first man hesitated, then muttered, "Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t think my landlord’ll mind waiting another month."

The captain didn’t turn. "If you two are done yapping," he said flatly, "either leave or get back to your duties."

The pair went quiet immediately.

The captain gave Rager’s body one last glance before turning. He didn’t linger—he never did. You didn’t stop on a battlefield to mourn; that was for people who lived long enough to do it later.

As he stepped into the hall, several of the men were already packing up gear or moving toward the main exit. Some couldn’t even look at him. A few moved with hurried steps, heads low, their shame apparent in how they avoided his gaze.

Others stood tall as he passed. One of them—a broad-shouldered man with a torn sleeve—gave a quick nod and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, Cap."

The captain returned the nod, the motion small but genuine.

"If I don’t come out within the hour," he said, "or if Code Four Alpha goes into effect, take charge and leave."

No one argued.

This wasn’t the military. They weren’t at war for glory or flags. These were contractors—men with kids, wives, or old parents waiting for them back home.

In the face of a higher-class enemy, money stopped being enough reason to die.

One by one, they filed out. The sound of boots faded down the corridor until only the faint hum of distant flames remained.

The captain stood there alone for a moment, rolling his shoulders to ease the tightness there. He sighed once, low and controlled. It carried weight but not regret.

He turned to go—then stopped.

A sound behind him. Light footsteps, hesitant.

He glanced over his shoulder. One of the two men who’d been with him in the room stepped out from the doorway.

Young, fit, nervous—but still there. His visor was up now, sweat streaking down his face. His jaw was tight, but his eyes burned with determination.

The captain’s brow lifted slightly. He hadn’t expected anyone to stay.

He sighed. "What are you waiting for, Edmond?"

Edmond swallowed. His voice wavered at first but steadied halfway through. "Orders, sir. How do we proceed?" 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The captain studied him for a second. ’This kid’s serious,’ he thought. ’Together, maybe we—’ He stopped the thought there.

"You’re talented," he said finally. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t have recommended you. Don’t waste your life on something you don’t fully understand."

Edmond’s expression didn’t change much, but his voice came quicker this time. "With all due respect, sir, I know what I signed up for. I’m ready to kick ass or die trying."

A brief pause. Then he added, with a weak grin, "Also, I have to clear my student debt."

The captain’s eyes softened for the first time that night. He didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched—almost.

He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. "Had the situation been different..." he murmured, then straightened.

"Let’s move, then. Stay behind me. Watch your corners."

Edmond nodded once, raising his rifle. "Copy that."

Together, they started down the hall, their shadows stretching long behind them in the firelight.