Riddle me this…

I exist only when virtue cracks.
I am named by cowards and defined by crowds.
They curse me so they don’t have to understand me. 
I stand where heroes dare to venture.
I do what they won’t.
I finish what they fail to protect. 
Without me, their legends are lies.
Without me, their courage is untested.
I am the necessary sin in every sacred story.

So answer carefully—

What do you call the shadow that proves the light is weak?

Now look around Wrestle Heroes.

Look at the men standing beside you, polishing their masks, rehearsing their speeches, convincing themselves they are necessary. Every one of them clings to a narrative that only survives because something darker exists beneath it.

Take Darkwish. A man forged in tragedy, baptized in loss, who decided that pain made him righteous. He fights crime not because it must be fought—but because suffering gave him permission to act. He calls it justice. I call it displacement. Without evil, Darkwish is just a grieving man with nowhere to put his anger. He needs monsters, or else he has to face himself.

Then there’s Nigel Powers. A “man of mystery.” A spy who believes charm, wit, and a clever gadget can save the world. He plays hero like it’s a game of chance—because he’s never had to ask what happens when the game ends. Spies only exist where threats are exaggerated and attempts to “save the world” are theatrical. Without men like me, Nigel is just another man whispering into the dark, hoping someone is listening.

And Lux Bellator… ah, faith made flesh. A man who believes salvation can be delivered with scripture and strikes, who thinks Christ needs a champion in a ring. Tell me, Lux—who are you saving if there is no one to condemn? Who are you praying against if sin never speaks back? Even heaven requires an adversary to feel divine.

Heroes love to pretend they are origins. They’re not. They are responses. Reactions. Symptoms. Every one of them is defined by what they oppose—and they oppose me.

Because the answer to the riddle…is Villain.

Not the cartoon. Not the caricature. The necessity.

I am Edward Newton. I do not chase applause. I do not beg for belief. I observe. I calculate. I dismantle. I understand what heroes never will—that morality is a luxury afforded by order, and order is built on fear. I don’t fight for justice. I fight for truth. And truth is rarely kind.

This is why I will win Wrestle Heroes.

A battle royal full of saviors, martyrs, spies, and saints—all trained to fight what they think evil looks like. But evil doesn’t roar. It waits. It studies. It solves.

They will eliminate each other trying to prove who the greatest hero is.

And I will still be standing.

The villain that makes them all possible.

Because every riddle is a question.

I’m just the answer you didn’t want.