My Borderline Supervillain-Slash-Hero System

Zane pulled out a giant fish, dressed it swiftly, and cut it into neat chunks. He gathered wood, lit a fire, and skewered the meat for a simple barbecue.

An hour later, once he'd eaten his fill, he dragged the boat into the stream again and resumed his journey.

This time, however, he didn't practice. Instead, he lay back, relaxing against the boat's edge, enjoying the calm flow of the water and the scenery around him while munching on well-cooked fish skewers.

He encountered many fish and aquatic beasts along the way, but none were hostile. He didn't bother them either, letting the boat drift peacefully downstream.

Eventually, the distant murmur of voices reached his ears.

Naturally alert, Zane sat up. His eyes widened slightly when he saw it—a gigantic, pyramid-shaped monument standing imposingly ahead, its dark metallic surface gleaming with an eerie sheen.

As the boat drifted closer, he spotted tens of thousands of participants gathered around the structure, swarming it like ants around a hive.

"That must be the Titan Ruin," he muttered under his breath.

His laid-back arrival on a boat immediately drew attention. A few people who noticed him were visibly irritated—especially once they recognized who was arriving so leisurely.

Zane casually rowed to the nearest riverbank. After securing the boat and carving his name on its edge for identification, he approached the strange structure, munching on a skewer of grilled fish.

The sky was already tinged with evening hues by the time he arrived.

"That's Zane Carter! The freshman whose name went viral on social media," a girl exclaimed, pointing.

That single declaration sparked a reaction.

Curiosity turned into recognition. Recognition turned into hostility.

All eyes locked onto him—most with disgust and scorn. They didn't just dislike him—they despised him.

He'd already been marked as the biggest threat in their minds. Some even muttered taunts and open provocations.

Anyone else might've faltered beneath such pressure. But Zane?

He walked forward without the slightest reaction—neither in his expression nor in his posture. The verbal venom hurled at him might as well have been dust in the wind.

His calm, unaffected demeanor unsettled many. Some instinctively stepped aside, giving him a path as if he carried the plague.

Still, Zane paid them no mind.

Though he ignored the noise, his gaze was sharp—watchful. He wasn't moving blindly. He was observing.

Most of the students had already begun forming cliques and factions, particularly near the front of the monument.

"They're already here... so why is no one going inside?" That question rose in his mind.

He considered asking someone, but the way they all glared at him made it clear—no one here wanted to talk.

Then, something caught his attention: a group of students, ten or so, wrapped in bandages. Some were even missing an arm.

As he moved forward, he passed by a cluster of nobles.

"Who is this clown?" a red-haired youth sneered coldly. "Get out of here."

Zane ignored him, as he always did. He walked past them and made his way toward the front, choosing a quieter, less crowded corner to sit and observe.

Let's wait and study the situation here before doing anything stupid, he thought.

His silence and indifference clearly provoked the red-haired youth. The boy's name was Issah Ironsong, heir to the prestigious Ironsong noble family.

Zane didn't even glance at him.

Issah's face twisted in fury. He began hurling curses at Zane, loud enough to draw attention. Several students turned their heads, sensing drama brewing—some even smirked in anticipation of a power clash.

But Zane stood like a stone—either deaf or indifferent, as if nothing around him mattered.

That nonchalance bruised Issah's ego even more.

Laughter and sneers followed from those nearby.

Humiliated, Issah lost his temper.

He leapt forward, unsheathed his green-bladed sword, and charged straight at Zane.

"You dare ignore me? When I'm talking? Die, you bastard!" he roared, swinging the blade downward to split Zane in half.

The onlookers leaned forward, expecting blood to fly.

Instead, they froze, jaws dropping in disbelief.

Zane had turned casually—and caught the tip of the sword between two fingers.

"Do you have a problem with me?" Zane spoke at last, voice calm. "Look—I don't want trouble."

"Let go of my weapon, you bastard!" Issah snapped, rage spilling from him.

Zane's brows furrowed slightly. He could endure slander tied to his father. But that word—bastard—carried implications about his mother. And that, he didn't tolerate.

Issah yanked hard to retrieve his blade. It didn't budge.

Zane raised his other hand and flicked the sword.

Bang!

The blade exploded into a thousand metal shards—harmlessly scattering around, not injuring a single person. Zane had already calculated their trajectory.

Issah, mid-pull, staggered backward. He looked at the handle in his grip—there was no blade left.

Face turning red, he hurled it aside.

"You son of a bitch!" he shouted. "Who the hell do you think you are, breaking my blade? From today onward, I swear—I'll make you regret even being born!"

Zane's frown deepened.

Again with the mom insult. Does he even know what he's implying?

Issah stepped forward, fury in every motion. He began weaving a complex series of hand seals, chanting the incantation for his spell.

Mana surged.

Both his hands were soon coated in reddish-gray elemental energy. Earth-elemental mana—dense, sharp, and deadly—formed into blade-like extensions around his palms.

Zane's gaze sharpened.

An earth-element close-range spell—deadly, if used well.

But the corner of his lips tugged upward. Too bad he picked the wrong opponent.

"Oh? This is getting serious," someone in the crowd muttered, clearly entertained.

More heads turned. Even the aloof top-rankers from the Super Families and noble clans now watched with interest.

Issah finally completed his spell casting. A smug grin spread across his face.

"Scared yet?" he asked, loud enough for all to hear.

The surrounding chaos quieted instantly.

"Since we're going to be in the same class, I'll be generous," Issah continued with self-importance. "Apologize for breaking my sword, and I'll let this go."