Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 345: A Clash Of Crazy (Part 5)

The worm-like vine didn't stay still.

It writhed harder the moment Elle spoke—twitching violently in the spilled brain matter like a nerve being pinched. It thrashed, coiled inwards, then flung itself out again in sharp, erratic movements.

Like it understood. Like it heard her.

Elle didn't blink.

Her twisted smile lingered, carved into her face like it belonged there.

She tilted her head slightly as the worm flailed, fascinated more than disturbed. Her fingers—still lightly twitching from the skull-rending—relaxed just a little.

But the moment didn't last.

**RAGHHHH!!**

The growls returned, closer now. Elle's amber eyes flicked left just as one of the creatures lunged from behind. Its massive claw came down—sharp and fast, aimed for the back of her neck.

She didn't flinch.

Her body shimmered—**whoosh**—vanishing just as the creature's claws carved through air, slicing only an echo that disintegrated like mist on contact.

**SSKRRRRK!**

The monster's strike tore straight into the earth where Elle had been, sending soil and splinters upward in a burst.

She reappeared at the far edge of another sinkhole, still watching.

More of the creatures broke off to pursue her—snarling, foaming, their eyes gleaming green with fury.

But then—

**SKRREEEEEEEEEEEEE**

The vine screamed.

That was the only word for it.

A shrill, rising noise tore through the air. The pitch climbed higher and higher until it grated against the inside of the skull.

The creatures froze.

Mid-charge. Mid-step. One even paused mid-swipe, claws inches from tearing into a nearby tree.

Then, in eerie synchronization, they all turned.

Toward the worm.

Those still scaling trees turned their heads downward, movements stiff. Then, without a sound, they leapt back down—**THUD**, **THUMP**, **THUD**—landing in droves.

They didn't wait.

All at once, they roared and charged.

But not at Elle.

Not at Trixie.

They ran for the sinkholes—back to where they came from.

One by one, they vanished.

**SKRRK**—**THUMP**—**SCRATCH**

Trixie, still perched high above, blinked twice and lowered her hand, which had been mid-taunt. "Yea, fuc— …Huh?"

She turned slightly and looked toward Elle, squinting through the branches and smoke-thin air between them. From this height and angle, she couldn't make out the full scene—but she could see blood. A lot of it. And Elle, standing calmly at the edge of a massive stain.

She cocked her head.

"I guess Elle killed that creepy lady," she muttered, half impressed, half resigned.

She vanished—**poof**—and reappeared on a tree closer to the scene. The view cleared.

Trixie's smile dimmed just a little.

She'd seen Elle do worse. But it still always hit different seeing how far she was willing to go. Elle didn't stop at "winning." She buried you, burned the pieces, and smiled while doing it.

On the ground below, the creatures rushed past.

One, larger than the others, darted toward the remains.

Its head snapped forward—**CHOMP**—biting down on the soil and meat-soaked mess where the vine had once thrashed. It scooped up the gore in a single chomp, vine-worm and all. The creature's eyes then met Elle's briefly—glowing, unreadable.

Then it jumped.

**FWOOSH**

Into the sinkhole. Gone.

The forest trembled again as the last of them disappeared, sinkhole after sinkhole swallowing them in a matter of seconds. Their retreat was as fast and chaotic as their arrival. No hesitation. No looking back.

Just like that—it was over.

Only silence remained.

A few distant branches creaked.

Trixie blinked, scanning the area for movement.

Nothing.

She vanished again—**poof**—and reappeared beside Elle, who hadn't moved from her place at the sinkhole's edge. Her body was still, her arms slack at her sides, shoulders no longer tensed.

To anyone else, she might've looked the same. But Trixie knew better.

The glow in Elle's eyes had faded.

Her aura—the one that had felt like standing next to a bleeding engine—was softening. Fading. Her presence no longer swallowed the space around her. The cold was lifting.

Trixie placed her hands on her hips, exhaling as she looked down into the pit.

"Yeah, you better run," she muttered.

Her voice echoed back from the dark like there was nothing in there at all.

She smirked slightly. "Pussies."

That echo was quieter—but still there.

Elle didn't react.

Not until Trixie looked at her.

Her expression had gone soft—completely. Whatever it was that took over had retreated back into its cage.

She spoke without meeting Trixie's eyes.

"Do you think Don will be unhappy I let it get away?"

Her voice was calm. Almost hesitant.

Trixie looked from Elle to the pile of what used to be Sister Rose—torn open, headless, brainless. Blood was still leaking into the grass. The scent was thick. Clotted. Flies were already circling.

Trixie pointed lazily at the mess.

"I'm pretty sure he'll be happy you tore that bitch a new one, Elle."

She smirked again. This time a little more genuinely. "You worry too much."

Elle didn't respond right away.

She never did.

Not when Trixie tried to reassure her. Not when she praised her. And especially not when she tried to crack a smile out of her after something bloody.

It wasn't that Elle didn't appreciate it. She did. She always had. But appreciation didn't drown doubt. Not hers, anyway.

She was her own biggest critic, her own harshest judge—and no matter how good the result, she was already scanning the wreckage for what she could've done better.

This time was no different.

As the silence stretched, Elle turned her body fully, walking past Trixie without a word. Her boots made soft crunch sounds as they pressed down on splinters and stray leaves.

She made her way back to the corpse. Or what was left of it.

The body was still sprawled awkwardly, a mess of limbs and open cavities. Blood had formed small, sticky rivers around it, now slowly being swallowed by the dirt. The skull—or half of it—was split like a melon, caved in from where Elle had cracked it like a nut.

She stared at the exposed brain matter for a second.

Then raised one boot and gave it a light nudge—**thnk**—kicking the broken head slightly to the side.

"From the church incident," she said softly, "we knew the ones that attacked Don and his friend had some kind of slimy vine thing in their heads."

Her eyes narrowed as they locked on the gory remains.

"I just didn't think sister Rose would have one. She seemed like the leader."

She exhaled slowly. Not a sigh. Just a breath that had waited too long to leave.

Her hand closed into a soft fist at her side.

Even without tension in her voice, the frustration showed—settling into her expression, hiding at the corners of her eyes.

Trixie stayed where she was for a second, tail flicking idly behind her. Then she walked forward and stopped beside Elle, her arms folded.

"Remember when we first met?" she asked suddenly.

Elle blinked.

The shift in tone was jarring. She turned slightly, just enough to glance at her.

"Yes," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "You wanted to run away the moment you found out I wasn't a guy."

Trixie snorted, grinning wide. "Well—yeah. You were this pretty, elegant thing, but I'd just finished swearing off complicated women."

She shrugged with exaggerated innocence as Elle gave her a slightly narrowed look. "What? Not all succubi go for anything that breathes. Some of us are straight as an arrow."

Elle said nothing, her lips twitching faintly.

"But that's not the point," Trixie continued, waving a hand to get herself back on track. "The point is: after we argued, you brought up Don. Called him the best guy in the world. Big di—well, you know."

She winked. Elle blushed slightly but didn't interrupt.

Trixie raised a finger like she was teaching a class.

"Then many crazy schemes later, after I'd actually learnt about the guy, I told you he was a dirtbag who abandoned you. And you—still—didn't let up. Not once."

Her eyes turned toward Elle, curious despite the grin still plastered on her face.

"So, why was that? Hmm?"

Elle looked down for a second, her hands clasped lightly in front of her. Her expression was calm, but her ears were red.

"Because I knew deep down he wouldn't abandon me for no reason. It was my fault he le—"

"BZZZT!" Trixie interrupted, making a fake buzzer noise as she crossed her arms smugly. "Wrong."

Elle looked up, blinking.

Trixie leaned in.

"You stood up for him despite all his crap because you love him. When no one believed in him—not even me—you did."

She scoffed, tilting her head slightly.

"And as much as I hate to admit I was wrong... you were right. He's a good guy. Mostly. And I don't think he's going anywhere now."

She gave Elle a light nudge with her elbow.

"So for the love of your fragile little mental health—stop worrying, will ya?"

The delivery wasn't exactly subtle. Or tactful. Or even coherent.

But it worked.

This chapter is updat𝓮d by freēnovelkiss.com.

Elle's shoulders loosened. Her fingers unclenched. And a soft smile broke onto her face—small, barely-there… but real.

The kind of smile that only showed up when she remembered he was finally back.

Her Don.

A memory flickered in her mind. Half-faded, half-fantasized. Her "first time" with him.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

Trixie narrowed her eyes immediately. She didn't miss things like that.

Her grin returned with full force.

"Elle…" she drawled, tail swinging like a predator circling a weaker animal. "You naughty girl… just what are you thinking about?"

Elle stiffened. Averted her gaze.

"It's nothing."

"Ohh, come on," Trixie said, leaning closer. "Tell little ole Trixie what dirty things are bouncing around in that porcelain skull of yours—"

"I said it's nothing."

"Liar."

"It isn't anything!"

"Then why are you blushing like a priest at a succubus convention?"

"I am not blushing—"

"Yes, you are. Tomato red."

"I am not a tomato—!"

They bickered like that for a while.

Right there, surrounded by blood-streaked dirt, splintered trees, scratch marks clawed into bark, and the mangled corpse of a woman who'd tried to kill them.

It didn't matter.

They still argued like idiots.

Like always.

This was their odd but true friendship.