I Enrolled as the Villain

"It's not magic."

…Not magic?

Elsin didn't flinch, but her mind sharpened.

A lie? No. His tone was too calm. No shift in pulse. No performative edge.

He believed it. Fully.

And Kael Valery had no reason to bluff. Not here. Not in front of witnesses who would dissect every breath he took.

Then… what was it?

She ran through her mind:

Affinities? None matched. Paths? His record didn't show deviation from structure. Aura-based manipulation? No leakage, no saturation.

No known system allowed for instant, chantless alteration at Tier-1. And yet… the battlefield told a different story.

The fire appeared without ignition.

The water vanished without dispersion.

The sharp metal appeared without gravity

And still he said: It's not magic.

So what is it then, Kael Valery?

What have you tapped into?

And more importantly…

Who gave you permission to touch something the rest of us were never meant to reach?

——

As the silence lingered longer than was comfortable, longer than was allowed Elsin eyes narrowed.

Then, without a word, she turned her head sharply, stepping away from the podium. Her heels echoed once, twice, then stopped.

A flick of her wrist.

A soft hum filled the air as a glowing projection activated behind her Showing The duel and Kael's fight.

The image of the duel hung frozen in the air Kael standing still, the water dragon evaporating mid-flight.

Then Elsin spoke.

"You will not understand what he did."

Silence lingered through the class

Even I don't know the full limit of what this Eye can do… only that it listens when I reach for something

A few students shifted in their seats.

"You are not meant to."

She took a step forward, heels clicking.

"This class is not here to mimic Kael Valery. It is here to survive a world that might contain more like him."

Her eyes swept the room.

"Power is evolving. Faster than theory. Faster than tradition. And far, far faster than you."

She gestured toward the still image of Kael, suspended mid-duel.

"You will not learn by dissecting his technique there is no technique. No glyphs, no chant, no aura feedback. What he uses is not a spell. It is not magic."

She turned her gaze to Kael. Brief. Calculated. Then away.

"It is a concept."

A beat.

"You will study not the method, but the outcome. Not how he moved but how others failed to. You will learn by confronting your own limitations."

She let that hang in the air, sharp as glass.

"Your assignment is simple: create a strategy to survive him. You will submit two versions. One if he's your enemy… and one if he's your ally."

Wait… what?

I blinked.

So we're casually assigning homework on how to deal with me now?

What's next, a group project on how to neutralize the Eye of God?

Elsin's voice cut through again:

"Adapt. Or fall behind."

Then, almost as an afterthought:

"And if you are afraid… good."

Her eyes found Leon Zadrin.

"Fear means you still know what can kill you."

She turned back to the projection.

"Dismissed."

I glanced at some of the students in the front rows.

Some were already scribbling notes.

Some just stared at me calculating, measuring, like I was some creature in a containment lab.

And a few…

A few looked at me like they were already imagining how to kill me.

I leaned back in my seat and exhaled through my nose.

Haa… this academy really is insane.

———

As the class was dismissed, the room loosened. A quiet shuffle of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, a few murmured words exchanged.

We had a fifteen-minute break before the next class.

I stayed seated.

What class do I even have next?

Right. Old Kael don't exactly care about academic performance…

I tried to sift through his memories what was left of them.

Dark. Twisted. Most of it sealed off like a scorched hallway behind a locked door. Maybe for my own good.

Then, like clicking a tab that hadn't loaded in years, it came to me.

I don't have a class for the next two hours.

Because Kael didn't choose any.

And even if he'd been forcibly assigned to one of the general courses… he wouldn't have shown up anyway.

As the others packed up their tablets and notes, I stayed seated.

Just for a moment.

Watching.

The Valery students were quiet today. Too quiet.

No side glances.No scoffs. Not even a whispers behind polished uniforms.

A few looked my way not out of challenge, but calculation.

Lucia was ranked sixth. She had prestige, history, lineage.

And I buried her without raising my voice.

Now they were remembering.

Remembering what the Mythrigan Eye meant. Remembering who I used to be.

Or maybe… who they thought I used to be.

I met the eyes of one of the Valery students. He didn't flinch. Just gave a curt nod.

I didn't return it.

Respect given after defeat is still respect born of fear.

But it was a start.

And right now?

I'd take it.

I caught a glimpse of sandy-blonde hair just to my left.

Arthur Valeheart.

His shoulders were tense. Elbows on the desk. He didn't speak.

He never asked for help.

And no one ever offered it.

Not even his family.

I remembered… how it would play out later. The locker with no sword. The moment of quiet humiliation. That desperate glance around, trying to pretend it didn't matter.

No one noticed.

Correction: no one cared to.

I stood up.

Walked alone to the training hall.

It was quiet the kind of quiet that made the lights feel too white, the air too clean.

I opened my locker.

I pulled out almost all of my spare blades. Not the cheap ones. A well-balanced one.

I wouldn't be training with the sword for a while. Maybe someday. But not now.

Then I walked over to his locker.

No one was around.

I placed the equipment inside. Everything he'd need for the coming week.

Closed it softly.

Walked away.

I didn't say anything.

He didn't need to know.

As I passed by the training hall, something outside drew my attention.

Three figures stood in the academy green field Two of them were moving not wildly, but with focus.

Their feet shifted across the trimmed grass. One weaved. The other blocked. A clean hook followed by a tight guard. Controlled. Disciplined.

They weren't using techniques or casting.

They were just… fighting.

Boxing?

I paused.

I didn't remember this in the novel. Maybe it wasn't important enough to be mentioned. Or maybe I just never looked for it.

The sound couldn't quite reach me through the glass, but I could see it the rhythm, the impact. A glove landing cleanly against ribs. A step back. A breath drawn tight.

It was precise in its own way.

And suddenly, I remembered Evelyne how she once floored me in duel. No spells or powers. Just hands and humiliation.

I winced a little at the memory.

Maybe boxing wouldn't be such a bad idea.

A change of pace.

A break from the elemental prodigies, bloodlines, and myth-tier politics.

Something simpler. Honest.

Maybe this time… I could learn how to actually fight.

I opened my SyncWatch and scrolled through the KVE course directory.

Found it.

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Boxing Variant). Optional elective. Low enrollment. Minimal theory.

Exactly what I was looking for.

I tapped "Register."

A second later, my SyncWatch flared with a soft ping confirmation and a live location ping for immediate attendance.

Of course.

They wanted to see if I was actually serious… or just another bored prodigy testing out electives like they were candy samples.

Either way

Guess I'm going now.

The elevator door slid open.

I stepped in, eyes lowered, half-expecting silence.

But someone was already there.

Renan.

His uniform was wrinkled from morning prayer. His hand held a worn prayer bead even here, in a science-polished academy.

He didn't look at me. Not immediately.

The silence stretched as the elevator began to move.

"…You're leaving class?" he asked, voice soft.

I didn't answer at first.

Then:

"It's not on my schedule," I said.

Renan glanced at me. Not judgmental. Just… curious.

"Where are you going?"

I shrugged. "Boxing."

His brows lifted. "You?"

The elevator hummed.

Then, almost casually:

"So the Velvet Eye's gone quiet."

I didn't respond.

"They're waiting for your next move."

Still nothing.

He glanced at me.

"You know… leaders usually say something after shaking the system."

I finally met his eyes.

"I'm not here to reassure them."

He gave the faintest smile

"No. But if you don't speak soon, someone else will speak for you."

I looked at Renan.

"Aren't you part of the Valkcross Regent faction?…..Do you even like them?"

He blinked once.

"Oh, absolutely. My favorite."

I raised a brow.

"Really? Who exactly do you admire over there?"

He didn't hesitate.

"No one. They're absolute rubbish."

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

A pause followed. The elevator hummed — low, mechanical, steady.

Then Renan spoke again slower this time, like the thought had been sitting with him for a while.

"You know… not everyone fears you because of your power."

I turned to him, brows slightly raised.

"Then why?"

He didn't look at me. Just said it:

"Because they don't know what you want."

Silence.

He finally glanced back — just briefly.

"And that makes you harder to follow than any god."

He didn't wait for my response.

He Just turned… and walked out of the elevator.

I glanced down.

Near the corner where Renan had been standing… a faint circle. Barely visible. The subtle pressure-mark of his prayer beads, pressed too long against the glass flooring.

A trace of faith.

Left behind without a word.

I stayed behind for a moment, watching the doors slide shut.

Harder to follow than any god, huh?

I exhaled slowly.

And turn toward outside where the boxing course is taking place

As I stepped out toward the academy green field, the SyncWatch on my wrist pinged softly.

Before I could glance down, a voice called out behind me.

"…You signed up for boxing?"

I stopped mid-step.

Lucia.

She stood beneath one of the shaded walkways, hair pulled back, uniform neat despite the sling on her arm.

Her other hand still clutched her tablet, the course registry still open.

She had followed the ping.

No entourage. No performance. Just her eyes narrowed.

"No magic. No Mythrigan. Just fists?" she repeated, slower this time.

I didn't answer

"…Do you remember why we trained with blades in the first place?"

I turned to meet her gaze.

"I remember losing."

Her expression shifted. Just slightly.

"You didn't lose," she said. "You stopped."

A beat.

"And I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

Then she stepped past me with silent.

Her shoulder brushed mine.

And for a moment, I thought she might turn back.

But she didn't.