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

Ashok stood atop the rooftop, arms crossed and gaze following the retreating backs of the Third Years as they slowly disappeared into their dorms.

With a click of his tongue and a disappointed sigh, he muttered under his breath,

"Tch. If only I could've landed squarely on the head of one of those Prince's lapdogs—I might've finally gotten a rough estimate of the damage I can cause with a direct fall."

Despite the missed opportunity, Ashok couldn't deny that the last hour had been fruitful.

His trials with the Negative Aspect had yielded more than just adrenaline—he'd uncovered a lot of insights today.

If he were to sum it all up, aside from shedding every last trace of fear toward the sky above or the earth below, two things stood out sharply in his mind.

First: the upper limits of speed his body could currently handle. Second: the maximum distance he could cover in a single jump with each level of Gravity Negative.

Ashok chuckled faintly to himself.

At first, he thought he'd been granted the powers of a glorified human elevator—up, down, repeat. But after today?

No, this wasn't just some vertical utility.

This was mobility.

He wasn't an escalator. Not anymore.

"I have promoted. I'm basically a walking trampoline," he said to himself, the corners of his mouth twitching upward with satisfaction.

Why a Trampoline?

Because if Ashok truly wanted to maximize the potential of his Negative Aspect, he had to jump—any kind of jump.

It could be a high leap fueled by his full strength or even just a lazy little hop from his toes.

But the act of jumping was essential.

It served as the initial force, which served as a trigger.

The mechanics were simple, at least on the surface: the more power he put into the jump, and the higher the gravity multiplier he activated—Negative.1x, 2x, 3x, and so on—the greater the speed and height he could achieve.

But it wasn't without trade-offs.

Speed came at a price, and that price was either physical effort or mental strain, depending on how he balanced the two.

For instance,

If Ashok poured all his leg strength into a single jump and paired it with just Negative.1x, the sheer explosive force could send him rocketing skyward with astonishing speed.

No need for higher multipliers—just little physical and mental strain.

But on the flip side, he'd also discovered that even a barely noticeable hop—something light and casual—could reach equal or greater speed if paired with Negative.3x or 4x.

The drawback?

A spike in mental exhaustion but no physical strain.

The higher the multiplier without enough physical input, the more it drained him.

As for Negative.5x?

Ashok clicked his tongue just thinking about it.

That one was dangerous.

The single time he'd used it, it had been mid-air, during a moment where his force from the jump was already waning—and even then, he'd shot up like a bolt fired from the heavens, rising so fast he'd nearly touched the magical barrier that surrounded the entire Academy.

"Yeah," he muttered, recalling the vertigo that followed. "That one's a rocket... not a trampoline."

Not to mention, controlling 5x was a nightmare.

The mental consumption alone made it feel like trying to juggle knives while blindfolded.

Even if he ignored the exhaustion, the sheer lack of control was dangerous.

At present, 3x was his most stable limit—a sweet spot where he retained complete control over both movement and descent.

4x was barely manageable, but only under intense concentration and after properly preparing himself mentally.

But to master 5x, Ashok knew it could not be achieved in a day he'd need to train like this regularly—over and over, until his instincts could keep up with the overwhelming momentum.

When it came to directional movement, things got trickier.

Going straight up was simple.

But moving forward, backward, left, or right wasn't "flying" in the traditional sense—it was more like taking massive, exaggerated jumps in those directions.

Long, arcing leaps rather than smooth motion.

He couldn't just dash sideways or forward and trigger his ability.

If he did that—if he ran and then activated Negative—he'd end up launching vertically into the sky instead of moving horizontally.

The Upward Pull from the ability completely cancelled the momentum.

However, if he jumped forward or backward and then used his ability, that was a different story.

That turned him into a cannonball.

A golf ball off a tee.

His body would soar in a clean, curved trajectory, guided by the angle of the leap.

It wasn't true flight, but it was damn close considering the height of his jump—and best of all, he could kill the ability mid-air to drop safely and land however he liked.

It was crude, imprecise, and chaotic—but it worked.

And Ashok was already imagining a lot the battlefield applications.

'Even though my supernatural power still has plenty of limitations, at least now I have something uniquely mine—something not even the main characters possessed,' thought Ashok as he finalized the merits and drawbacks of his Gravity Trait, a power that never existed in the game's mechanics.

Merits:

Early Access to the Sky – Whether it's for scouting, escaping, or gaining a tactical vantage point, the sky was now his domain—especially when combined with his glasses which had the Passive Runes of Adaptive and Enhanced Vision.

Long-Distance Movement – Capable of executing massive leaps, similar in effect to a crude version of third or fourth-tier movement arts. Unrefined, yes—but undeniably effective.

Immunity to Fall Damage – As long as he managed his timing, the risk of splattering on the ground was basically null.

Grandmaster Parkour – It looked cool. And in another world, looking cool mattered.

Limitations:

Mental Strain Over Time –The more extreme the multiplier, the more draining the cost.

Jump-Based Activation Only – It couldn't be activated in a static position. Movement was essential—specifically, a jump of some kind to apply directional force.

Ashok clicked his tongue in thought.

Mental consumption—that was the real thorn.

If it were physical stamina, he could push through on mental strength alone, dragging his body forward by sheer grit.

But mental fatigue?

That was a different altogether.

When the mind gave out, no amount of strength could force the body to move.

After roughly organizing the pros and cons of his ability into a mental table, Ashok finally turned back toward his room.

He still had a handful of new ideas he wanted to test—possibilities bouncing around in his head—but pushing any further now meant risking being late for class, which wasn't something he preferred.

'Only two classes today, but both are the draining kind—Endurance Training and Mana Control,' Ashok thought as he casually packed away his protein powder.

That powder would be his salvation after what Endurance Training instructors is done.

After a quick bath to wash off the morning's sweat and adrenaline, Ashok changed back to Academy track suit.

Stepping out of his room, however, he didn't head toward the towering castle where most classes took place.

Instead, he made his way to the Private Training Grounds—or more specifically, the large open field behind it, where Endurance Training was scheduled.

As he approached, Ashok could already see a few students in track suits gathered around, some casually leaning against the walls of the Training Hall, chatting amongst themselves.

However, the students gathered near the field didn't belong to the Aether Class—they were from the Wyrd Class.

Aside from the three compulsory courses for the semester, all other classes were held jointly, meaning both Aether and Wyrd students attended them together.

But even knowing this, Ashok didn't bother approaching the Wyrd students.

He was well aware of their current sentiment—open hostility toward anyone from the Aether Class.

Standing beside them would be nothing more than an invitation for unnecessary conflict.

Ashok, understanding his own nature all too well, knew that if he mingled with them, it would only end in a fight that would later escalate to a Intra Class Fight.

He didn't believe in nonsense like "the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

For him, it was much simpler—and far more practical—to assume that everyone was an enemy until proven otherwise.

'The true protagonists and top talents are in the Aether Class. Wyrd is mostly just a gathering of minor villains or sub-villains. There's no point in befriending cannon fodder,' Ashok thought, narrowing his eyes as he kept his distance.

Ashok knew full well that, if he tried, he could probably steer some of the villains from the Wyrd Class away from their fated paths of darkness—maybe even convert them to his side. But then a simple question popped into his head:

Why should he?

The first reason was obvious: even if he managed to recruit them, they would never measure up to the Main Characters.

Mediocrity wasn't something Ashok had time for. And second, the real headache would begin the moment the senior students of Wyrd Class found out that their juniors were getting cozy with someone from Aether.

That was a drama the Main Characters would be interested in especially the Hero and the Princess, personally he had no interest in starring in.

And lastly—most importantly, perhaps—the Wyrd Class, much like the Aether Class, was full of brats.

Brats.

Not beauties.

'If I'm going to give myself a headache,' Ashok mused internally, 'then it should at least be for a beauty.'

He had no complaints about bearing three Divine Curses on his body for Morrathis, after all.

Because deep down, he was convinced she was a beauty unmatched by Heaven or Earth— to get married to that goddess it was worth to suffer from these curses for some time.

But taking headache for brats, Not Interested.

'I would rather train my ability'.

Just then, snapping him from his thoughts, came a familiar voice from behind:

"Mr. Special, you're here too?"