WAIT!? I Am The Main Protagonist And I Am The Final Villain Too!?

{A/N: I Am Back!}

"Hmmm, hmmm. What should I do? What should I do?" Caelus hummed softly, his voice as smooth and angelic as a divine melody, as he strolled through the gleaming marble corridors of the palace.

The golden light streaming through the tall windows cast an almost ethereal glow around him, making his graceful steps seem almost serene.

Behind him, Helena trailed nervously, her breaths shallow and rapid, teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

Her terror wasn't unwarranted. Anyone in her position would feel the same. Caelus, before regaining the memories of his past life, had been the very embodiment of tyranny.

A single whim of his could spell the end of a life.

He was the kind of ruler whose cruelty was whispered about in hushed tones, the kind who made even the bravest souls tremble.

When Caelus ventured out in his chariot, people fell to their knees the moment they saw him, too terrified to even glance his way.

The rare fool who dared meet his gaze with anything less than absolute reverence—perhaps even a flicker of defiance—would find their eyes gouged out and, as the horrific tales went, be forced to eat them.

This was no exaggerated story; it was his way of instilling obedience through terror.

And yet, despite his monstrous reign, no one had managed to overthrow him. Why? Because Caelus wasn't just ruthless—he was astoundingly intelligent.

A tyrant he might be, but he was a strategic and successful one, maintaining an iron grip on his empire through calculated dominance.

As Helena tried to steady her shaking legs, Caelus, walking ahead, abruptly spun on his heel and began striding backward, his piercing gaze fixed on her.

The ease with which he moved, like an artist painting on air, almost seemed mocking.

{A/N: Bro invented the moonwalk before it was even a thing.}

'Should I throw acid at her right now?' Caelus mused silently, the thought flitting through his mind as easily as one might ponder the weather. His eyes glinted with amusement as he observed Helena's face.

Her wide, disbelieving eyes and the way her mouth twitched in dread made her emotions crystal clear—she was barely holding herself together. The terror etched on her face was so vivid it almost amused him.

"No, that'd be too merciful," he decided, his lips curling into a faint smirk. Helena's expression only grew more desperate, her pale face nearly translucent, and for a moment, it looked like she might collapse under the weight of her own fear.

'Maybe I should… Wait. This won't be any fun if I tell you what I'm planning, right?' Caelus muttered, his voice low, almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret with an unseen audience.

His eyes flicked upward briefly, as though breaking the fourth wall to acknowledge the ones peering into his twisted tale.

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips before he resumed his casual stroll, leaving Helena to drown in her spiraling dread.

"Your Highness, you might hurt yourself walking like this," Helena said, her voice trembling slightly but managing to sound steady enough to pass for confidence. She had managed to pull herself together, or at least pretended to.

Her hands clasped tightly in front of her betrayed the effort it took. "You always make me worry," she added, her tone carrying a faint warmth, though her eyes still darted nervously.

Caelus stopped in his tracks, tilting his head as her words sank in. His lips curled into a mocking, disgusted smirk that made her stomach drop.

In his mind, he mused, 'How laughable'.

She reminded him of a trained monkey trying desperately to perform for its master but failing miserably, now flailing in panic to avoid punishment.

"Worry about me now, huh..." he muttered, his voice low and laden with disdain, though his expression abruptly softened into what appeared to be a friendly smile.

NO, not friendly—overly friendly. It was the kind of smile that dripped with condescension, one that could make anyone's skin crawl.

Helena flinched slightly as he extended his right hand toward her, every instinct screaming at her to back away, but she stood frozen in place. "How admirable," he said, the words as sharp as daggers, their mocking tone unmistakable.

Before she could react, his hand closed the distance and pinched her cheek. The sudden contact made her gasp quietly, but what shocked her more was the unexpected softness of her skin under his fingers.

His expression flickered for a moment, surprise flashing briefly in his eyes before it was replaced by that same predatory amusement.

Helena winced but stayed rooted to the spot, her mind racing. She could feel the heat rising in her face, whether from embarrassment, fear, or something else entirely, she wasn't sure.

Meanwhile, Caelus's smirk deepened, his grip loosening as he let her cheek go, leaving a faint red mark.

After that brief moment of amusement, Caelus resumed his leisurely walk, his posture relaxed but his mind still swirling with thoughts soaked in superiority. She would've made an excellent pet, he mused, a mask of genuine regret briefly clouding his features.

Spoiler alert: The regret wasn't real.

But she has to play the key role in the first storyline, he reminded himself as the sprawling hallway stretched out before him.

The massive marble expanse seemed endless, yet the faint outline of its terminus came into view. His expression darkened, the playful smirk melting into a look of deadly seriousness.

Enough fooling around… The air around him seemed to chill as he shifted into a cold, almost demonic aura. His eyes gleamed with unrestrained killing intent, the type that could freeze even the bravest of warriors in their tracks.

This transformation wasn't random. The first storyline was critical for everyone involved. It wasn't just a phase to pass through—it was the foundation of their very existence.

Only by surviving it could a character truly begin their journey and unlock their innate abilities.

Abilities Caelus once wielded with terrifying mastery, now sealed after regaining the memories of his past life that morning. A vexing inconvenience.

And what were those abilities? Nothing extraordinary… unless you count the power to see a person's true intentions with a single glance as mundane.

In truth, this ability was absurdly overpowered, especially in the early stages of the game.

It explained much of why the original Caelus had been such a tyrant. If he didn't like what he saw in your intentions, you were as good as dead.

Which begged the question: how did someone manage to poison him if he could sense their intent? Interesting.

As they reached the end of the hallway, Caelus and Helena shared no further words. She kept her head low, trailing him like a shadow, but any seer worth their salt would have seen the storm clouds of misfortune gathering over her.

...

"Oh my," Caelus said theatrically as they stepped onto the balcony at the back of the palace. His voice carried just the right note of faux surprise, though in truth, he couldn't have cared less. Nor would he ever.

But even he had to admit the sight before him would make most people gasp. Below the balcony lay a grand colosseum, a massive amphitheater that stretched far and wide.

Hundreds—no, Thousands—of people crowded every available inch of space. Some stood, some sat, others knelt or crawled, desperate to get even the faintest glimpse of what was about to unfold.

The design was awe-inspiring, a spectacle of architecture. Picture a sandwich: the upper layers of bread were the high terraces where the crowd gathered and the stage where elite sit, and the lower layer of stuffing was the battleground—a sunken arena where warriors would clash.

The palace balcony, where Caelus now stood, loomed directly above the stage, offering a commanding view of the chaos below.

The height difference between the arena floor and the upper terraces was roughly fifteen feet, a stark reminder of how far removed the elite were from the bloodshed they orchestrated.

"Your Highness! You are finally here!" A booming voice rang out, snapping Caelus's attention to the stage directly beneath him.

An old man sat on a throne positioned at the left side of the throne in center of the platform, his robes as ostentatious as the colosseum itself.

His face was wrinkled but carried an air of authority, his gaze locked onto Caelus with a mix of reverence and anticipation.

Spoiler Alert: Both were fake

Caelus didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned slightly on the railing, surveying the scene below with feigned interest, his expression unreadable. Though he seemed relaxed, anyone paying attention could see the flicker of calculation in his eyes.

With a cold, emotionless face, Caelus didn't bother acknowledging the old man's greeting. Instead, he descended the grand staircase attached to the balcony, his steps slow and deliberate.

He made his way to the largest throne on the stage—a lavish seat perched slightly higher than the others, a clear symbol of authority. Settling into it, he leaned back with an air of indifference, his piercing gaze sweeping the arena below.

To his left sat the old man, whose throne was noticeably smaller—just a foot lower, as if to emphasize his secondary position. The two of them exchanged no words, each pointedly ignoring the other, though the tension between them was palpable.

Helena quietly took her place on a modest chair reserved for her, sitting stiffly as though she wanted to disappear entirely.

Meanwhile, Caelus's eyes roved over the battle arena, scanning its every corner with what seemed like intense focus.

"Looking for something, my lord?" the old man asked after observing him for a few moments. His voice was calm, even polite, but it lacked the respect one might expect when addressing a king.

His tone carried an edge, subtle yet deliberate, a quiet refusal to fully acknowledge Caelus's authority.

Caelus caught the slight instantly. A smug smirk spread across his face as he replied without even glancing at the old man,

"Looking for your mother. Heard she's the top whore in the city these days."

The old man froze, his smile faltering for the briefest moment as a vein on his temple throbbed visibly. He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening, but after a tense pause, he forced out a dry laugh.

"Hahaha, Your Highness, you joke around too much," he said, his voice steady, though his eyes burned with barely concealed rage.

Outwardly, he appeared as calm as an undisturbed ocean, unruffled by the insult Caelus had just thrown his way. But inside, his mind was spiraling into chaos. HOW IS THIS SON OF A DOG STILL ALIVE?!?! he screamed internally, his fury barely contained.

His gaze flickered briefly to Helena, who avoided his eyes entirely, keeping her head low as though pretending she didn't exist. This reaction only fed his simmering anger.

Caelus, meanwhile, was enjoying the show. He'd been waiting to see how this old fossil would react, knowing full well who he was dealing with.

The man wasn't just any random noble—he was Brutus, the leader of the Senate and the primary antagonist of the first storyline.

And though Caelus had thrown what seemed like a petty, almost childish insult, there was nothing random about it.

He wasn't the type to waste time with corny jabs. If he truly intended to deal with someone, he'd kill them outright—a mad dog is better put down than taunted.

But this was different. Right now, he needed to confirm something. Were the characters in this world exactly as he remembered? Did they hold true to the personalities he'd studied so meticulously?

Watching Brutus's subtle reactions—the tension in his jaw, the brief flash of rage in his eyes—Caelus smirked inwardly. Yes, he thought. They're the same.

Satisfied for now, he leaned back in his throne, his expression as unreadable as ever, while the old man seethed silently, plotting his next move.

{Ding! Son Of Zeus Is In 100 Meter Radius}

Suddenly caelus heard the system's voice in his ear.