I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 149: Daniel’s Fear

Leon was also the Hero of Light, his pride would not allow him to ignore the insult, to accept being called an insect without a fight.

His fingers curled into a tight fist, his stance firming.

'The fight for Rank 1 will not be easy.'

But that only steeled his resolve further.

Backing down was never an option.

The silence in the classroom was broken by the steady rhythm of footsteps against the floor, the soft yet distinct sound reverberating through the air.

Every head instinctively turned, their focus shifting to Mira and Zog—the beastmen, who had chosen to leave first.

One by one, students began filing out of the classroom, their footsteps a scattered rhythm, marking their slow yet inevitable departure.

After everything that had unfolded, there was no longer a reason to stay—the battle of words had concluded, the tension lingering but directionless, and so they chose to leave.

Among those departing, Elara rose from her seat, her expression carefully composed, yet beneath the surface—her thoughts churned with fury.

Her gaze flickered toward the classroom door, a silent determination settling in her chest.

'If even a single word of this were to spread beyond these walls—it would be a disaster for my plan to build connections within the Academy.

And worse?

My cunning brother would never let this opportunity slip past him.'

Her jaw tightened, not out of fear—but of calculated resolve.

Adlet had dared to call her an insect.

That would not go unanswered.

She would make certain that not a single rumor escaped, yet that did not mean she would forgive his insult.

As the sound of exiting footsteps echoed throughout the room, the classroom slowly became void of students, the weight of earlier tensions settling into an eerie silence.

Roan remained seated, his fingers lightly tapping against his desk, his thoughts wandering over the battle that had just unfolded.

Eventually, he stood, preparing to leave—yet as his eyes swept across the room, something caught his attention.

Three students had not moved.

Lilia. Lyssa. Daniel.

Standing still, unshaken, their presence lingering long after the others had gone.

Whatever was left unsaid in the confrontation—remained with them.

Roan spared one final glance at the three figures left behind in the silent remnants of the Aether Class, his thoughts cold, detached.

'They took the most indignation from this, though not that I care.'

And with that, he walked away, leaving them alone in the thick, suffocating quiet.

None of them spoke.

None of them moved.

Daniel had remained only for Lilia, yet now, as he stood before her, he struggled to find the words.

The weight of everything hung between them, unspoken yet ever-present, pressing against his chest.

He took a deep breath—then another, before finally breaking the silence.

"Lilia—"

But before he could go further—

"Leave."

The voice did not belong to Lilia.

It came from Lyssa, her tone sharp, unyielding, carrying the weight of something beyond mere dismissal.

Daniel frowned, his pride refusing to let him simply back down.

"Who are you to—"

His words cut off.

The world tilted, his vision distorting as he saw something unnatural.

Lyssa moved—faster than his mind could process holding a chakram in her hand.

And then, his arm was gone.

It lay upon the floor, severed, lifeless.

His breath hitched, shock overtaking him as he tried to scream—only for a shadow to smother his voice, silencing him completely.

Then—the chakram traced his neck, cold steel sliding across his skin, a feeling so precise, so real, that his mind spiraled into sheer terror.

A burst of red filled his sight, blood cascading into the air like a cruel spectacle.

His remaining hand clutched his throat, his legs buckling beneath him.

Desperate, panicked, he reached out—seeking aid that would not come.

Tears burned in his eyes.

THUD!

The impact hit hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his mind swimming in terror.

Yet in the next instant—confusion struck.

His voice had returned.

His body felt whole.

Slowly, hesitantly, his gaze dropped to his arms.

Both were intact, perfectly fine, unharmed—as though nothing had happened.

He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist—the sensation was real.

And in that moment—he understood.

It had been an illusion.

Yet the pain, the suffocating fear—it had felt real.

And even now—it refused to leave him.

Daniel's trembling hands pressed against his neck as he rubbed it, his breath uneven, his mind racing.

No wound.

No pain.

Yet the sensation, the terror—he could not forget it.

His gaze shot upward, locking onto Lyssa, who stood in the exact same spot as before, calm, unmoving, unshaken.

The realization of being in a illusion leaving himself wide open settled within him like a crushing weight.

Yet despite that—if Lyssa had truly wanted to end him, he would already be dead.

A wave of deep-seated fear rippled through his chest.

His feet staggered, the ground feeling unstable beneath him as he slowly rose, his movements shaky, his breath shallow.

And then—he ran.

Without hesitation.

Without looking back.

Lilia no longer mattered.

The confrontation no longer mattered.

He only needed to leave.

The door swung open violently, a sharp echo reverberating through the classroom, and then—his footsteps faded down the corridor.

Now standing alone in the emptied classroom, Lyssa processed what had just unfolded.

The illusion generated from her killing intent had been flawless—there had been no mistake in execution, no flaw in precision.

Yet still it didn't work on Adlet that simply meant that her opponent had been stronger.

She was about to call out to Lilia, perhaps to question her thoughts—

But then, she saw her moving toward the gate, her movements precise, cold, unwavering.

And then, a voice—low, detached, cutting through the silence like ice.

"Let's leave."

Lyssa's gaze remained steady, watching as Lilia moved forward, her posture rigid, her steps carrying a weight far heavier than mere exhaustion.

Without hesitation, Lyssa followed, though she maintained a measured distance, ensuring she did not invade Lilia's space.

She could sense the shift—the turmoil, the anger buried beneath each footstep.

Lilia's thoughts raced, circling the same bitter question over and over—

'Why? Just why did everything go wrong?'

The weight of Adlet's defiance burned into her pride like an unrelenting flame, not because he had merely rejected her web, but because he had done so without struggle.

There had been no battle—just a sharp insult, a single dismissal—and she had frozen, unable to even retaliate.

That was the part she could not accept.

That was the part that shook her to her core.

She could not forget his words, how effortlessly he had stood above her, how he had called her an insect before the entire class.

How he had promised to crush her.

Every syllable, every syllable seared into her memory, turning over in her mind again and again, fueling the bitterness twisting in her chest.

And then—something else shifted within her.

A realization.

Her goal—the very reason she had come to the Academy—had begun to change.

Her father had given her a clear task—to charm the children of influential figures, to weave herself into the political structure of the Empire through alliances, through manipulation.

She had accepted that purpose without question.

Until now.

Until Adlet had humiliated her so easily, shattered her carefully built strategy with mere words.

And now—in the depths of her rage, in the quiet of the hallway, she felt that goal slipping into something secondary.

Because now—she had something else to pursue.

Something personal.

Something she could not allow to be left unfinished.

Lilia walked with measured steps, her mind consumed by a single thought, one that burned deep within her chest, fueling every breath she took.

'Adlet will kneel before me.'

He would beg for mercy, but none would come.

She would break him, strip away his arrogance piece by piece, until he was nothing but a slave to her will.

Every word he had thrown at her, every insult, every declaration of superiority—he would pay for all of it.

Her fingers curled into fists, her nails pressing into her palms as the weight of her wounded pride twisted into something far more dangerous.

She would ensure that Adlet's life within the Academy became his personal hell.

Meanwhile, Ashok moved through the castle grounds, making his way toward the cafeteria.

The echoes of the classroom confrontation still hung in the back of his mind, pressing against him like an unwanted presence.

He had flipped the situation in his favor, had turned the hostility into something manageable—for now.

But even though he had won that battle, he knew the war was far from over.

The Academy would be far from peaceful now—his life would never return to the ease he had once imagined.

'That bitch I will make sure to kill her in the most brutal way.' Thought Ashok as he started thinking the best ways where he could make Lilia suffer as much as possible, because of her now he had more problems to deal with.

'Hah! To think I was imagining a peaceful life in the Academy'

Ashok knew that he had to work even harder now because the First Rank was no longer just an option but a necessity.

'I really need some alcohol right now' thought Ashok as he entered the cafeteria.

...

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