Villain's Odyssey: Enslaving heroines, Conquering Villainesses

"Kyaa!" A voice cried out in pain.

It was Anna.

Azalea frowned and turned to find her embedded into the other side of the wall, blood trickling down her lips. What had just happened? He wondered, stopping as his eyes instantly went to his arm.

The tattoo—it was back again. Glowing.

"Slave mark," he muttered.

It was as he had guessed. Something had happened, and somehow Anna was now a slave. His slave? He wasn't sure. But since it seemed she couldn't attack him, then he was probably the master. However, he had never seen a slave contract like this. When had it even happened? Slave contracts didn't work without the consent of both the slave and the master. Also, slavery wasn't that rampant in human kingdoms—in a way, they were somewhat outlawed.

"Could this be my blessing?" he wondered.

In this world, people who were lucky not only awakened an affinity to an element, but also received the blessing of a god, though the strength and ability varied based on the god itself. Not everyone did, though. Some people just awakened an affinity or two. A blessing was just as it was called—an added advantage, a 'blessing'.

"What happened?" Anna frowned, her hands still hurting. In the nick of time, she had coated her body in ether to protect herself, just as the ball of fire combusted on its own. If she hadn't, she would have received it worse than she had.

Suddenly her eyes fell on the tattoo on her right hand and she frowned deeper.

"What is this?" she muttered, as suddenly dread coiled in her gut.

"My advantage," came a reply. She looked up and all she saw were cold eyes gazing at her. There was no amusement, just coldness that made her retreat instinctively.

'Wait… why am I afraid of him?' she thought, then stretched her hand forward again, this time conjuring a huge ball of fire.

"I advise against that," he said, but she wasn't having any of it. She hated that calmness. He should be afraid, he should be dead. How the hell was he alive? And the legs—she had definitely chopped them off!

"DIE! YOU BASTARD!" she screamed, but—

BOOM!

Once again.

Coughs

Blood spilled from her mouth.

"Ahh! Haaah… No… Noo… NOOO!" She realized what this meant the next instant. The mark. The urge to kneel the moment she saw him.

"No!"

BOOM!

She kept conjuring, ice piercing into her skin, the fire combusting before her face. It kept happening.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" In an instant, the atmosphere heated up and turned icy cold simultaneously. A huge shard of ice and flame combined—she had never done something like this before, but in the desperate moment, her full potential was coming into play.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The walls were destroyed. The building began to crumble.

Azalea watched with an indifference that was... unnatural. For some reason, the more the tattoo glowed, the more he felt numb.

He looked around. It was about to crumble. He walked towards the door, his steps unhurried. The ceiling was falling apart, but there was no panic. He walked majestically, like he owned it all.

He left the room, walked out of the living room, then emerged from a home in the forest.

Hmm?

He tilted his head. This didn't make sense. Where had she brought him?

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

A loud roar. He felt tremendous ether. He looked back—the house beginning to crumble as the immense power tore it from the ground up.

He tilted his head, then sat on the ground, watching.

BOOM!

The building fell apart piece by piece until it was all rubble.

And then…

BOOM!

A girl blasted out from the top of the rubble, looking more like a mad woman than a mage.

"Well, what do you know—she learned flight magic in a minute," he said, shaking his head.

She looked around, and then her gaze settled on him.

"I WILL KILL YOU! EVEN IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!" she screamed. In an instant, a humongous ball, blue and golden red, coalesced. She had her hands directed towards him, determined to end him at all costs, her ether flaring, and then—

BOOOOOOOOM!

She shot straight into the rubble.

He looked. It had become worse. The tattoo was glowing fiercely, and he could no longer feel anything—no tension, no fear, no panic, just mild hate and absolute indifference.

"This is stupid," he said, then stood up.

He walked towards the rubble, carefully taking his time not to stumble. With time, there he was, standing at the spot where she had fallen.

He looked down.

"Quite the hole," he muttered. He could see her—unconscious, bloodied. It seemed she had broken a few bones, perhaps her ribs?

"Sigh," he sighed.

He looked up. "Why didn't I die? What else is left for me to do in this world?" he muttered. But then—

[#$%^&*()_]

[Kill them all, isn't that what you want?]

He looked at it for a while.

"Revenge?… Hm. Don't mind if I do."

Unbeknownst to him, his face had twisted into a grin so sinister it was the devil's itself.