Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

The morning sun burned crimson over the academy's combat grounds as I stalked through the training fields like a predator marking its territory. My shadow stretched unnaturally long behind me, twisting with a restless energy that mirrored the storm in my soul.

[System: Someone's feeling dramatic today.]

Quiet.

Ahead, near the obsidian dueling platform where students practiced their bladework, Headmaster Evelyn stood surrounded by a coterie of nobles—each one more venomous than the last. There was Lady Voxx, Nyx's mother, her crimson eyes sharp enough to flay skin and her lips curled into a permanent sneer. Beside her stood a silver-haired elf with Seraphina's pointed ears but none of her grace; his face was a mask of twisted, permanent disdain. And then there was Duke Whitehound, Eren and Noora's father, his gilded armor gleaming under the sun like a direct challenge to anyone who dared to look at him.

I melted into the shadows of a nearby archway, close enough to hear their hushed, angry words.

Lady Voxx spoke first, her voice a blade wrapped in silk. "Evelyn, how could you betray us? That boy humiliated our heirs on a global broadcast. I wouldn't need more than a few seconds to punish him properly, to put that gutter rat in his place."

Evelyn, ever the picture of calm authority, didn't even flinch. "Do you truly believe I fought him with my full strength, Lady Voxx?"

The elf snarled, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "You held back? For what reason? For that exiled, blood-stained cur?"

A slow, dangerous smile curled Evelyn's lips. "He lasted thirty minutes against me. How many of your 'precious heirs' could do the same?" She let the silence stretch, her words a challenge that none of them could meet. "Strength alone doesn't win battles. Tactics do. And that boy? He's a tactical genius, whether you like it or not."

Duke Whitehound's gauntleted fist clenched, the sound of grinding metal sharp in the morning air. "You know what he did to our children! To the future of this world! And now—an exiled nobody stands as the academy's top ranker? Do you realize what this will do to our reputation? To the very foundation of our noble society?"

Evelyn's smile turned razor-sharp. "Good. Maybe it's time for a change."

Lady Voxx recoiled as if struck. "You can't be serious—"

"This 'golden spoon' system is rotting the academy from within," Evelyn cut in, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper that seemed to suck the warmth from the air. "Kings' children remain kings. The powerful stay powerful, growing soft and complacent. Meanwhile, real threats gather beyond our borders—threats your spoiled, pampered heirs aren't ready to face." Her gaze, sharp and piercing, swept over them. "Ashen Crimson? He's not a problem. He's the perfect catalyst."

The nobles stiffened, their faces a mixture of shock and outrage. The elf opened his mouth to protest—

"Enough," Evelyn's voice cracked like a whip, silencing him instantly. "The decision is made. He stays."

With that, they dispersed, their fury a palpable, suffocating cloud that lingered long after they were gone.

I stepped back, preparing to melt back into the shadows—only to freeze as space itself seemed to twist behind me.

"Enjoy the show?"

Evelyn's breath ghosted over my ear. I hadn't even sensed her teleport. Her control over lightning, over space itself, was on a completely different level.

I turned slowly, my face a mask of indifference, and met her violet gaze. "So. I'm your 'perfect catalyst'?"

She didn't deny it. "This academy needs change. It needs to be broken down and rebuilt, stronger than before. You're the only one ruthless enough to force it."

I smirked, a cold, humorless expression. "And if I refuse? If I decide I'd rather live a quiet life?"

"You won't." Her fingers brushed my shoulder, and a faint, tingling arc of lightning danced at her fingertips, a silent, deadly promise. "You crave chaos as much as I do. You thrive in it."

[System: …Well. This is terrifying. And strangely exciting.]

I bowed mockingly, my shadow stretching long and distorted behind me. "As you command, Master. I'll be your pawn."

Evelyn's laughter, a sound as sharp and clear as cracking ice, followed me as I walked away.

[System: A pawn? This bastard… Evelyn, your academy is doomed.]

And I couldn't wait to prove her right.

[System Notification: [Lightning Resistance (Passive)] has been upgraded from D-Rank to B-Rank. Reward for surviving Evelyn's trial. Try not to get electrocuted again anytime soon.]

I smirked at the glowing blue text hovering in the air before swiping it away. The perks of being the academy's most notorious student were beginning to pile up:

The best dorm suite (currently half-destroyed from my "celebratory" and highly destructive magic experiments).

A personal maid (who still flinched whenever I mentioned laundry).

And, until today, the absolute freedom to skip classes. Thе оriginаl sоurсе is М|V|L5ЕМРYR.

The door to my suite burst open without warning. Masha stood there, her usual nervousness replaced by a grim, unyielding determination.

"Master Crimson," she announced, holding up a scroll sealed with Evelyn's personal lightning sigil. "The Headmaster has decreed—"

I snatched it from her hands, breaking the seal with my thumb. The message was short, brutal, and to the point:

"Attend all classes. On time. Starting tomorrow. Or face immediate expulsion and the revocation of all Rank 1 privileges."

—Evelyn

I crushed the parchment in my fist, the magical paper dissolving into ash.

[System: Ahahahaha—]

Shut up.

The Morning From Hell

The next morning, my platinum watch chimed at precisely 8:00 AM—the exact moment classes began.

I bolted upright, my shadow instinctively forming into a makeshift, if slightly rumpled, uniform as I sprinted out the door.

[System: This is the most motivated I've ever seen you.]

Not. Now.

The halls of Ashborn Academy were eerily empty as I blurred past, my Shadow Step leaving faint, dissipating afterimages in my wake. Professor Vael's Advanced Mana Theory class was on the fourth floor, on the opposite side of the campus.

I skidded to a halt outside the classroom door at 8:07 AM, my hair still crackling with residual shadow energy, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Seven minutes late. Not bad for a cross-campus sprint.

Then I noticed the figure leaning against the wall beside the door, her arms crossed, a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in amusement.

Headmaster Evelyn. Her silver braids were coiled tight, her violet eyes glowing with a triumphant light.

"Seven minutes," she noted, her voice dangerously sweet. "I expected worse."

I straightened my collar, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "I was optimizing my beauty sleep. It's a delicate process."

She didn't smile. "From now on, you will attend every class. On time. No exceptions."

I opened my mouth to argue, to protest this blatant tyranny—

"Or," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper, "I'll revoke your Rank 1 privileges. Starting with..." She snapped her fingers.

My dorm key, a thing of polished silver and enchanted obsidian, materialized in her palm.

I stared at it, then at her, my blood running cold. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

[System: She absolutely would.]