I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!

Everyone Third Year turned to him.

"What do you see?!" a few asked in unison, tension rippling through the group.

The boy narrowed his eyes, squinting hard as the blur slowly formed outlines against the backdrop of the pale sky.

He blinked once.

Then again.

"I see…" he hesitated, disbelief creeping into his voice, "I see an... Academy Track Suit?"

The moment the words "Academy Track Suit" escaped that Third Year's mouth, a strange stillness washed over the crowd. For the ones who had nearly drained themselves of mana or aura through the night, it took a second to even register what was said.

An Academy Track Suit?

'Since when did track suits start flying?' many of them thought in confusion, their minds too fogged with fatigue to make logical leaps.

But while half the students stood there blinking in disbelief, the others surged with new urgency.

Aura flared, mana circuits burned hotter—despite their exhaustion, they forced their bodies to keep up as the figure rapidly descended.

Everyone was now attempting to see for themselves, trying to break through the blur.

That's when a Third Year, with sharper senses than most, shouted—

"YOU FOOLS! HOW IS THAT A BEAST?! THAT'S CLEARLY A HUMAN—IT'S A FIRST YEAR!!"

His voice cracked like a whip through the courtyard, snapping everyone out of their haze.

Gasps followed.

"WHAT?!"

"He's gonna die at that speed!"

Instantly, the students scrambled to their feet. Sore legs and aching backs forgotten, they squinted and strained to catch a better glimpse of the falling figure.

It was difficult—he wasn't stationary, and following a high-speed body plummeting from the sky required both stamina and focus they didn't have.

"Is it just me or… is the First Year spinning in the sky?" one of the Third Years asked, his voice uncertain, more bewildered than concerned.

That single observation rippled through the tired crowd like a jolt of caffeine.

They looked again—and then they saw it.

The figure, clearly now a student in the Academy's training uniform, was falling horizontally, body straight, arms crossed over his chest like he was lounging mid-air, and most bizarre of all—he was spinning.

Slowly at first, but then faster, like a well-timed corkscrew.

"???"

"???"

"???"

That's all their brains could process.

Literal question marks seemed to hang in the air around the entire Third Year group as they stood motionless, unable to find even a single word to match what they were seeing.

And just like before, the body dipped out of view—vanishing past the line of sight as it dropped behind the First Year Dormitory's rooftop.

This time, no one dared look away.

They waited, eyes locked on the rooftop like hawks tracking prey, their breaths unconsciously held. Thirty seconds passed.

Nothing.

Not even a whisper of motion.

Then someone muttered nervously, "The First Year's not… dead, right?"

"It can't be…" another replied, but their voice cracked at the end, as if even they didn't believe their own words.

"…Should we go to the rooftop?" someone else asked, hesitant.

Before anyone could even respond to the idea of checking the rooftop, the unbelievable happened again—the First Year rose into the sky once more.

This time, though the speed was a bit slower than before, it made what was happening even clearer.

"Wait a second…" one of the Third Years leaned forward, squinting in disbelief. "Is he… is he doing front flips while flying up?"

And yes, he was.

The First Year's body was flipping forward over and over, like a gymnast on an invisible trampoline that launched him skyward.

The rotations were smooth, almost practiced, as if this was some kind of daily routine instead of an act of insanity.

"What in the—now he's doing backflips?"

As his body began to fall and the boy began his descent, he seamlessly reversed into backflips, spinning in perfect form even while plummeting back down toward the roof.

Then, once again, he vanished behind the building, swallowed by the rooftop's edge.

"…"

"…"

"…"

Silence.

Not because they had nothing to say—but because no one could figure out what to say.

Finally, one of the Third Years broke the stunned quiet. "Didn't that First Year look like the guy who talked back to Teacher Frederick yesterday… that Adlet?"

The question cut through the fog of confusion, snapping several others back to reality.

"Oh shit…" someone muttered.

Now that the name was said aloud, the memories came rushing back— that joke, the bet with Teacher Flakey, the sudden Merit Points, the casual robbery of a Third Year, the insane trap magic stunt, and Frederick's bizarrely entertained reaction.

"Right," another Third Year said grimly, "that was Adlet. That First Year who's got a Supernatural Power."

Before anyone could even formulate an answer, Adlet once again appeared, soaring into the sky — but this time, his body was completely inverted.

His legs pointed upward toward the heavens, while his arms were angled downward, dangling below him like a diver mid-fall, yet somehow rising instead of descending.

And then, the madness began again.

While still airborne, Adlet's body started spinning — not just one kind of spin, but all of them.

He spun sideways, rotated horizontally, diagonally, even with his arms and legs crossed, contorting mid-air in a surreal display of total control and acrobatics.

It wasn't just movement — it was choreographed chaos.

"Does that Adlet have a Supernatural Power related to flying?" someone finally asked, voice unsure.

"It must be related to Parkour?" another suggested with sudden conviction.

The response was immediate.

Every head turned to the second speaker — a unified look of pure disbelief painted across their faces, as they turned to look at him as if some sort of idiot.

"WHAT?!" the Third Year snapped, face reddening under the scrutiny. "Have you EVER seen a perfect front flip or backflip like that before?!"

No one answered.

"Have ANY of you ever seen a teacher, ANY teacher, flipping through the air like that while rising in the sky? Do you even understand how hard it is for S-Rankers to master flight using mana propulsion alone?! EVEN THEN—have you ever seen one do that while in the air?! Have you?!"

His voice was rising, almost frantic now as he jabbed a finger at the sky.

"Even griffin riders or wyvern knights trained for aerial combat aren't able to do freaking gymnastics in the middle of the sky while flying!"

Only after hearing his relentless barrage of rhetorical questions did the Third Years who had been casting doubtful glances finally look away, humbled.

After all, flying and performing parkour while flying were two entirely different things.

There was no rebuttal to that logic.

"…Supernatural Power aside," one of the Third Years who had not been at the Welcome Party finally spoke, rubbing his eyes groggily as he stared back up at the sky.

"Can anyone explain to me why that First Year is pulling off this kind of act this early in the morning?"

There was a brief silence.

Then, every Third Year who had attended the Welcome Party turned their heads toward him in unison, their eyes reflecting an unspoken understanding — a look of camaraderie born from shared trauma.

"That First Year…" one began grimly.

"No. Adlet," corrected another with a dark, deadpan seriousness. "There is no reasoning with him."

"He's a complete madman," muttered a third, dragging a palm across his face like a man who had seen far too much.

And just like that, under the early light of dawn, the Third Years gathered around the confused ones — now eager, horrified, and intrigued — and began to recount the chaos of the night before.

And in the background, somewhere beyond the edge of the rooftop, Adlet soared through the sky once again, flipping like a lunatic with no regard for gravity, safety, or sanity.

Half of the story honestly sounded like a joke to the uninitiated — especially the part about Teacher Frederick grinning ear to ear like a child and laughing with a First Year.

Who in their right mind would believe that?

But then… their gazes drifted toward the courtyard. Toward the crater-less, perfectly repaired ground.

Toward the location of the supposed destruction from last night.

And suddenly, it didn't sound so far-fetched.

If the courtyard had been reduced to rubble by Frederick himself… then maybe, just maybe, that part of the story was true.

And if that was true…

Every eye turned toward the boy currently soaring in the sky like a bird, his silhouette flipping and twisting in impossible ways.

"…He really is a madman," one of the Third Years whispered.

There were no objections.

Meanwhile, a handful of Second Years, having just stepped out of their dormitory rooms — bleary-eyed and stretching, ready to begin the day — stopped mid-step when they saw the oddest sight in the compound below.

A large group of Third Years — a group usually far too proud or exhausted to even socialize this early — were standing together in the courtyard, necks moving up and down in sync, gazes tracking something in the sky.

One of the Second Years blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then frowned in genuine confusion.

'Is this… some new kind of cooperative punishment?'

Another Second Year leaned in, squinting. 'Or maybe… a coordinated neck training regimen?'

Whatever it was, it looked bizarre.

Meanwhile, Ashok — who had long since noticed the group of Third Years ogling him like villagers spotting a mythical dragon — calmly stood atop the roof, hands tucked lazily into his pockets.

He stared at the sky for a moment, then glanced down at the open compound and the group clustered below like curious ants.

'So far, I've tested most of my theories in a straight vertical line. Let's change the angle.' Thought Ashok with a smirk.

Without the need for a dramatic pose or even bending his knees this time, Ashok tilted his body forward ever so slightly and gave a light hop off the edge of the roof — almost like a boy stepping off a ledge just to feel the wind on his face.

Gravity. Negative. 3x.