Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 494: Be Afraid Of The Dark I (Part 4)

Chapter 494: Chapter 494: Be Afraid Of The Dark I (Part 4)

The captain’s eyes trembled at the words. You can’t win.

Every nerve told him the same thing—run—but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Fear was a heavy thing, creeping slow through the chest, but he pressed it down until it turned into heat.

His breath deepened, rough and uneven, armor plates rising with each draw. Then—something shifted.

A faint glow stirred in his eyes, dim at first, then pulsing once like a heartbeat. Veins along his neck and arms bulged under the skin, glowing faintly with the same low hue. Thin mist bled off his body, curling upward as if the air itself recoiled from the heat building underneath.

Predator didn’t move. Just watched.

Then—

BOOM~

The captain’s boots crushed through loose debris as he launched upward. He twisted midair, body coiling, leg cutting a clean arc toward Predator’s head.

Predator didn’t even flinch.

The kick neared impact—only inches away—when something surged from behind the captain. A black tendril, wide as a man’s torso and shaped like a hand, shot forward and caught his leg mid-swing.

THWUMMM~

The collision sent a shockwave through the hall, shattering what was left of the nearby walls and scattering dust like shrapnel.

The captain’s eyes widened, his weight yanked sideways as the shadow-hand flexed, its grip tightening until his knee popped audibly. He barely had time to grunt before the world flipped again—

SLAMM~

The tendril smashed him into the ground.

The air left his lungs in a rough uhhff! His back arched, armor denting against the impact as the floor cracked beneath him. Pain burned through his ribs, spreading in uneven jolts.

He groaned but didn’t finish. Predator stepped closer.

From above, a dark structure began to form—flat, solid, and wide like some industrial press—descending fast.

His pupils shrank. He tried to move, but his legs were dead weight. He saw it drop—

WHAMM~

The first hit drove the breath out of him entirely. His body bucked once before slumping.

WHAMM~

The second struck harder. Something inside cracked. His vision flickered white for an instant.

He tried to lift an arm, but it barely twitched.

CRUNNCH~

The third came down slower—heavy. The noise that followed wasn’t stone breaking this time. It was bone.

Predator stopped.

The shadow hand withdrew into the floor, melting back into the dark that pooled beneath him.

The captain lay there, armor split and smeared with blood. One eye swollen shut, the other open but red and glassy. His breath came in short, wet gasps. Blood ran from his nose and down across his cheek before dripping off his jaw in steady drops.

He blinked slowly, eyes finding Predator’s form above him—black, still.

He coughed, blood flecking his lips, and forced the words out, voice barely a rasp.

"...Just... kill me already..."

Another breath. Ragged.

"...Let the... cough... kid... go..."

His head rolled back slightly as his eyelids lowered, weight pulling them shut. The last thing he saw was the blur of Predator’s mask above him—two faint, unwavering glows where eyes should have been.

His words hung there, quiet and small against the broken hall, long after his body went still.

———

Time had passed—how much, the captain couldn’t tell.

At first there was only sound. Dull, warped through the pulse in his ears. Low voices. One normal, the other breaking under strain.

Then came sight.

Faint shapes formed through the blur—a wall, streaks of light, something dark standing tall at the center. His head throbbed.

He tried to turn it, but the pain stopped him halfway. A dull crack ran down his neck, followed by the faint warmth of blood moving again.

He was sitting upright. No—propped. His back pressed against a wall, the rough plaster scraping through what was left of his armor.

When his eyes finally steadied, he realized where he was.

Gerald Richmond’s office.

The desk was gone, replaced by rubble and ash. The wide window behind it had been cracked from corner to corner, moonlight cutting through in uneven lines.

Through the largest breach in the far wall, he could see the night sky—cold and still. Wind carried dust across the floor, fluterring through the broken frame with a faint shhhf~.

And standing in the middle of it all was Predator.

For the first time, the captain saw him fully lit. The moonlight rolled across the black surface of the armor—though it didn’t shine, it drank the light in. Each movement made the suit ripple faintly, as if smoke stirred beneath it.

Opposite him stood Gerald Richmond.

The man looked nothing like the calm face the captain had seen and grown used to. His pristine composure had been stripped away, replaced by bruises, a torn collar, and blood dried in a streak beneath his right eye.

His attire was discolored, one sleeve half burned, but his spine stayed straight. Even broken, Gerald looked like someone still trying to command the room.

The captain blinked hard, forcing his vision to stay. Every breath hurt, ribs grinding under the strain. He couldn’t lift his arms. His body was still trying to knit itself together—slowly, desperately.

Gerald’s voice broke through the ringing first.

"After laying my estate to waste," he said, his tone tight with control that barely held, "and robbing me of some of my most important files..."

He paused, biting down on his lip, nostrils flaring.

"...you expect me to work for you?"

The words carried across the room, brittle but loud enough to echo.

Predator didn’t answer.

He simply tilted his head—to the captain’s direction.

Those hollow white eyes locked on him, and even without full feeling in his limbs, the captain’s body reacted. A twitch ran through him, brief but undeniable. His throat tightened as the air caught in his chest.

But then Predator’s gaze shifted. Not at him—just above, to the right.

The captain followed it weakly, dragging his vision sideways.

Someone was there.

A smaller figure, leaned against the wall, posture relaxed but commanding. His fogged vision struggled to adjust, but he could make out the contour of her hair, the curve of a shoulder.

Elle.

Her voice came next—smooth, controlled.

"Well, yes," she said, tone calm. "Once it’s known that you failed to protect the financial data of your clients—state officials among them, and a few others with more to lose than they can afford to admit—well..."

Her head tilted slightly, eyes fixed on Gerald. "...I don’t imagine it will end very well for you."

Gerald frowned. A muscle twitched in his cheek. She wasn’t wrong—he knew it. His empire wasn’t built on strength but leverage, and leverage vanished the moment others thought you couldn’t protect their secrets.

Still, hearing it said aloud twisted something behind his eyes.

Predator finally spoke.

"It’s simple," he said. His voice carried no rise or fall—just weight. "Fall in line. Gain protection."

He stepped forward, the movement slow but absolute, the sound of his boots dragging faintly through the rubble—crkk~.

"Because clearly," Predator continued, "your current clientele can’t provide that."

He stopped barely an arm’s length away from Gerald.

"So choose. Lose your reputation and image..."

He extended a hand, palm open. Black mist crawled lazily around it, forming tendrils that moved against the air like smoke underwater. "...or grow further, under the cover of my hand."

The captain’s half-lidded eyes flicked between them—the billionaire and the monster, moonlight between them like a knife’s edge. He could hear his own heartbeat again, slow but heavy.

He wanted to say something—to warn, to curse, to fight—but only a dry breath came out.

Gerald Richmond’s mind buckled under the weight of Predator’s offer.

Not because he couldn’t understand it—he understood perfectly. That was the problem.

He stood there, body aching, head swimming, trying to reconcile the pieces of his reality. One moment he was fighting to stay alive, certain the night would end with his name in an obituary.

Minutes later—if even that—he was staring at a hand that promised survival... and more.

Cruel, in its own calculated way.

He felt it—this wasn’t just intimidation. It was a psychological blade pressed to the throat. Destroy a man’s standing, rip apart his legacy, leave him broken and bleeding... then offer him the chance to not only live, but rise. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Enticing.

Terrifying.

Deadly.

But only deadly to people who had options.

Gerald didn’t.

His jaw tightened. He tasted metal where he’d bitten his lip too hard. His eyes trembled as the scenes played out in his mind, one after the other.

An interrogation room, harsh lights overhead—agents asking questions they already knew the answers to.

Phone calls to clients he had served for decades—trying to explain why their secrets had fallen into someone else’s hands.

Families of the dead demanding answers, demanding accountability, demanding blood.

Headlines.

Handcuffs.

The tower he’d built over years crumbling in a single night.

He felt his stomach twist. A low burn filled his chest.

His gaze returned to Predator’s extended hand.

Shadow-mist wafted around it in slow coils. It didn’t even look like flesh.

’What unfairness is this...?’ he thought.

He knew he wasn’t a saint—not even close—but even he felt cheated by how completely life had cornered him tonight.

His breath hitched.

His fingers twitched.

His good eye watered as he stared at the hand, and slowly—very slowly—his own lifted.

His hand trembled midway up.

Then higher.

The tips of his fingers brushed Predator’s palm.

Contact.

For a heartbeat, he felt the shape of it—cold, not in temperature but in sensation, like pressing against something that wasn’t entirely part of this world.

He blinked.

Predator vanished.

Just—gone.

Air rushed into the space where he’d stood, dust swirling in a lazy spiral.

Gerald flinched back a step, heart pounding once hard against his ribs. His gaze darted around the office in a panic—

Only Elle and the captain remained.

She was still where she’d been, leaning against the wall, her posture relaxed but unreadable beneath the balaclava.

For a moment she didn’t move at all. Then her outline stuttered—like a glitch in a screen—before she blinked out of sight and reappeared right in front of him.

Gerald jolted, breath catching as he met her eyes.

She looked down at him, voice flat.

"Well then," she said. "Let’s get to work."

"W–work?" Gerald muttered, his voice cracking. Confusion mixed with a creeping dread.

Elle pushed off her knee lightly, crossing her arms.

"You’re no use to us if you’re the one who takes the blowback from this."

His good eye twitched.

"That... then who?"

Elle didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Gerald’s expression shifted—fear replaced by realization, then disbelief.