Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

With each step Marcus took, the darkness grew thicker, the air colder. The faint sounds of his comrades also seemed to fade, replaced by the distant dripping of water and the soft scurrying of unseen creatures.

Shadows dominated the edges of his vision, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Suddenly, a faint whisper echoed around him. **Whoosh.**

He spun around, shotgun raised. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice full of panic.

But there was no answer.

From the shadows above, Don observed silently, the suit rendering him almost indistinguishable from the darkness.

The glowing white eyes of his mask narrowed as he assessed the men gathered at the tunnel's entrance. 'Time to feed,' he thought.

Marcus took another hesitant step when a chilling breeze brushed past him. **Whisper.** He whipped his head to the side, heart racing. "Guys, this isn't funny!" he shouted, hoping for some reassurance as he looked at the distant light at the entrance.

But back there, Cole and the others were also becoming more uneasy. "What's he yelling about?" one muttered.

"Probably spooked by his own shadow," another snickered, though his laugh was forced.

Without warning, the shadows around the men began to move.

Tendrils of darkness snaked along the ground, subtle and silent. One man felt a cold touch on his ankle. "What the—" he began, looking down just as a shadowy appendage wrapped around his leg.

**Snap!** He was yanked violently into the darkness, his scream cut short. The others barely had time to react.

"Did you see that?!" someone yelled, eyes wide with terror.

"Stay together!" Cole ordered, raising his rifle.

From above, Don extended his hand, manipulating the shadows with ease, feeling like extended limbs.

Another tendril shot out, this time grabbing two men at once. They were lifted off their feet, struggling and flailing. "Help us!" they screamed.

Bullets flew as the gang members fired wildly into the darkness. **Bang! Bang! Bang!** The gunshots echoed deafeningly, flashes briefly illuminating the tunnel's interior. But their bullets met only shadows.

One man backed up against an SUV, began reloading frantically. "We gotta get outta here!" he shouted. But before he could move, a shadow loomed over him, forming into a spear-like shape.

It struck swiftly. **Thud.** The man's eyes went wide, a dark mist seeping from his mouth as he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

Panic ensued from here.

"Run!" another yelled, turning toward the vehicles. But the shadows were faster. They formed small walls and barriers that cut off the men's escape routes.

Cole gritted his teeth, fury overtaking fear. "Show yourself!" he roared into the abyss. "Coward!"

From the depths, Don's voice emerged. "Or what?"

Cole immediately fired in the direction of the voice. **Bang!** But the bullet only whizzed into the darkness, hitting nothing.

Suddenly, Don materialized behind him, emerging from the shadow cast by the SUV. Before Cole could react, Don grasped his shoulder.

Cole spun around, coming face to face with the skull-like mask. "W-what the hell are you?" he gasped.

"The last thing you'll ever see," Don replied coldly.

He then placed a hand over Cole's chest and shadows seeped into his body, invading every fiber of his being. Cole's eyes widened in sheer terror as he felt his very essence being pulled from him.

**Ssssshhhhh.** A misty vapor—the manifestation of his soul—flowed from his mouth and eyes, absorbed into Don's suit.

The gang members still alive watched in horror as their Cole's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

"It's a demon!" one screamed.

Desperation took over from here as some dropped their weapons and tried to flee on foot, while others continued to fire aimlessly.

But Don moved like a phantom, darting between shadows. To them, he was everywhere and nowhere.

In the next moment, he raised his hand, and multiple shadowy spikes erupted from the ground. **Shhhunk!** They impaled several men at once, lifting them off their feet before dissipating, letting their bodies fall.

A motorcycle roared to life as one of the gang members attempted to escape. But before he could even move it, Don merely extended a finger and a shadow stretched across the ground, forming a barrier.

A tendril then grabbed the rider and tossed him upward. He landed hard a second later, bones snapping on impact. **Crack!**

Amidst all this, Marcus stood frozen, watching his comrades being slaughtered one by one. His legs felt like lead, refusing to move.

Don soon turned his attention to the remaining few, who all met the same fate as Cole. Their screams were muffled as the shadows consumed them, souls extracted and absorbed.

Silence settled over the tunnel.

The only sound was Marcus's ragged breathing. Realizing he was the last one left, he stumbled backward until he felt the cold metal of the truck's trailer against his back. His hands shook violently, the shotgun slipping from his grip and clattering to the ground. **Clank.**

From the shadows, Don emerged slowly, his imposing figure framed by the faint light behind him. The glowing eyes of his mask settled onto Marcus, who slumped to the ground, his knees giving way.

"P-Please..." Marcus stammered, tears welling up in his eyes. He could feel warmth spreading down his leg as fear overtook him completely, causing hi to lose control of even his bladder.

Don appeared behind him in an instant and reached down to pick up the discarded shotgun, examining it briefly before letting it dissolve into shadows.

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable.

Leaning in close, Don's voice came as a chilling whisper in his ear. "Tell your people what happened here today."

Marcus dared to open his eyes, glancing up cautiously. "W-What?"

"Go," Don commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without needing further prompting, Marcus scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he bolted toward the tunnel's entrance.

Don watched until Marcus was out of sight. The hunger within the suit subsided, sated by the souls it had consumed.

He glanced around at the lifeless bodies scattered about, their faces frozen in terror. 'Looks like I won't need to worry about mobs again. But more importantly, with this… the plan is off to a great start.'

As Don stood in the middle of the tunnel the shadows around him whispered softly, almost as if they were alive and responding to his presence.

He closed his eyes briefly, sensing the lifeless bodies scattered throughout the area. Some twisted and broken, while others appeared drained, their faces hollow and eyes vacant—empty husks robbed of their very essence.

Opening his eyes, Don raised his hands slightly.

The shadows obeyed his unspoken command, extending like dark tendrils. They wrapped around the fallen men, gently lifting them from where they lay. One by one, the bodies floated toward a central point, forming a grim pile at the heart of the tunnel.

With a subtle gesture, Don directed his attention to the abandoned vehicles. The SUVs and motorcycles. Shadowy extensions coiled around them, pulling each vehicle toward the growing mound of bodies. Metal groaned and tires scraped against the pavement as they were dragged into place.

One of the SUVs was particularly battered, its frame dented and windows shattered. A dark puddle was spread beneath it—gasoline mingling with oil, dripping steadily onto the cold ground.

Don noticed the trail leading back toward the pile. Without a word, he approached one of the fallen gang members, kneeling beside him. He searched the man's pockets until his fingers closed around a metal lighter.

Standing upright, Don flicked the lighter open. A small flame appeared, casting flickering light across his masked face. He glanced once more at the scene and without hesitation, he tossed the lighter onto the trail of gasoline.

**Woosh.** The fire ignited instantly, flames moving along the path of fuel. Within moments, the pile was engulfed, smoke beginning to billow and fill the tunnel.

Don stepped back, allowing the shadows to envelop him completely. His form dissolved into the darkness, leaving no trace of his presence.

This impromptu decision to burn the evidence wasn't part of his original plan, but it felt necessary. He couldn't risk the investigators in this world discovering the peculiar state of the bodies—drained of their souls.

Despite the immense power the suit granted him, he wasn't arrogant enough to underestimate the capabilities of those who might come looking.

This method of combat—striking from the darkness, instilling fear before his enemies even knew he was there—also felt oddly fitting.

It was an entirely different experience when compared to the physical battles he was getting accustomed to, but there was a certain satisfaction in watching his foes crumble under the weight of their own terror.