Brad the Baron: Rewrite of Villain

One week had passed.

Ten days left until the tournament.

Not much had changed since that talk with Lira and Kael.

Well… not everything stayed the same.

I'd started talking more. Not brooding in silence like some moody noble. I was calmer. Sharper. Focused.

And weirdly enough—I felt confident. The kind of "Nah, I'll win" confidence.

Training was showing results. My body and mind were syncing. The pressure that once weighed on me had turned into something useful.

But then there were the… other things.

Lira.

She was always around.

And I don't mean in the "loyal maid staying nearby" kind of way.

I mean always.

Even when I told her to leave, she stayed nearby.

Lingering in shadows. Standing outside the training hall. Watching through open doors.

At first, I assumed it was just overprotectiveness or some misplaced loyalty.

But after Kael's warning?

I started watching back.

No other maids ever come near me.

Not to deliver food. Not to lay out clothes. Not even to clean my quarters.

At first, I thought maybe it was my reputation—Brad's arrogance scaring them off.

But then I went deeper into his memories.

And the truth clicked.

Lira has always been like this.

Even when Brad was still Brad.

From dressing to meals, cleaning to messages—Lira handled every single thing herself.

The other maids didn't avoid him because he was cruel or dangerous.

They avoided him because Lira made sure they did.

Subtly. Silently. Thoroughly.

And Brad?

He never noticed.

Not out of restraint—but out of sheer self-absorption.

He was too far up his own imaginary throne to see the one person orbiting him obsessively.

She had already claimed him.

And he never realized.

But I do now.

And the strangest part?

It doesn't scare me.

It thrills me.

Not romantically. Not yet.

But in that same rush you feel when you find a hidden blade in your sleeve—deadly, quiet, yours.

Man. This is exciting.

She's dangerous, no doubt.

Not because she has a knife—because she doesn't need one.

And somehow, that makes me feel more alive than anything else lately.

It's not just her, either.

Everything's shifting. Elric. Kael. Even me.

And if the world is speeding up, I don't have the luxury of falling behind.

Not now.

Not when I've clawed this far.

I stood up. Rolled my shoulders. Took a breath.

If there's ever a moment to advance—it's now.

I left the training yard and descended into the manor's lowest chamber.

The mana room.

Stone walls etched with old runes. Air heavy with latent energy. A place meant for growth—and for suffering.

I sat cross-legged in the center, hands resting on my knees.

Closed my eyes.

And let it begin.

The core stirred.

A steady pulse beneath my navel—blue, sluggish, rimmed with darkness.

Impurities.

They weren't just inside the core—they clogged the veins themselves.

The flow of mana caught and scraped with every cycle.

Every inhale was heat. Every exhale, a needle behind the ribs.

This wasn't pressure.

This was resistance.

Like molten lead forced through a clogged pipe.

My body trembled. Sweat soaked through my shirt.

Pain clawed at the inside of my chest.

And still—I kept pushing.

Loop after loop. Cycle after cycle.

Burning away the debris, scraping out the grime, slowly—aggressively—refining the flow.

It felt like hours.

Then suddenly—

Snap.

Not physical.

Energetic.

A shift.

The blockages gave way.

The mana surged—freer, faster, cleaner.

And my core?

It gleamed.

Still blue, but clear. Focused. Grade 2.

I gasped, chest heaving, eyes wide.

The runes around me flared, then dimmed.

I slumped forward, arms shaking—but I didn't fall.

I had made it.

They say breakthroughs can be deadly.

If the pressure becomes too much—your veins rupture, your core cracks.

The damage can cripple a mage permanently.

But early on, it's survivable.

Fail, and you suffer a backlash—weeks of pain, broken pathways.

And once you recover?

You can try again.

But only at the early stages.

Beyond this? Once you reach the White Core and higher…

You get one shot.

One attempt.

And if you fail?

Best case—you're crippled. A normal human. No mana ever again.

Worst case?

You die.

Just like that.

A forgotten name in some training hall.

But me?

I made it.

I opened my eyes slowly, the chamber still and dim around me.

This was only the beginning.Every step from here would be steeper. Riskier. Sharper.And instead of fear?

I could feel a grin tugging at my lips.

I wasn't just ready.

I was excited.