Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!

"No."

The single, blunt syllable fell from Alaric’s lips like a block of lead.

It didn’t echo in the endless, blinding white expanse of the mindscape.

It simply sat there, heavy and immovable, defying the absolute purity of the First Hero’s realm.

The towering, spectral figure of the Ancestor froze. The pristine light radiating from his armor flickered, rippling with a profound, terrifying indignation.

"You refuse?" the Ancestor’s voice boomed, no longer filled with sorrow, but with the wrath of a scorned deity.

The glass floor beneath Alaric’s knees spider-webbed with cracks.

"You choose damnation over salvation? You choose the shadow of a Heretic over the eternal glory of the Light?"

"I choose the mud," Alaric grunted, slowly forcing his left foot flat against the cracked glass, pushing upward against the crushing, conceptual weight of the holy pressure.

In the physical world, the agony was beyond human comprehension.

The golden fire of the Sword of Heroes l was roasting the flesh of his hands, spiraling up his arms and trying to incinerate the Titan’s Capacitor fused to his sternum.

The smell of searing meat filled the dim sanctum.