The Academy's Doomed Side Character-Chapter 207: Execution Of Trash [3]

I barely raised my arms before the blast hit.

Lan’s absorbed most of it—but the sheer force still sent me tumbling, blades clattering from my hands.

I hit the ground and didn’t rise immediately.

Breath ragged.

Vision flickering.

"Just die already!" he shouted, the rawness bleeding into his voice now. "You’re wasting both our time."

Honestly, I was scared.

This was a risky gamble. A very risky one.

This was the villain that Ryen and Leo couldn’t stop until the latter half of the story. And now he was standing right in front of me—trying to kill me.

It was terrifying. More than I’d imagined.

Knowing a villain would come after you one day is different than actually being face to face with him. The danger felt real now—impossibly real.

But even so, thanks to the [Oath of the Saint], my mouth kept running. I couldn’t shut up, even if I wanted to. So I played my part.

"I told you—I know all your artifacts. Did that sound like bullshit to you?"

"You vulgar wretch...!"

"Oh, and by the way," I said with a twisted grin, "I wasn’t even aiming for that, dumbass. Notice anything strange?"

"...What?"

He blinked, confused, then followed my gaze.

Slowly, his hand rose to his ear.

His expression froze.

The gemstone in his earring had shattered—crushed during our last exchange. Tiny shards glinted faintly on the floor near his feet.

The coin on his chest was cracked too, pulsing with a dim, erratic light.

"Can’t heal yourself now, can you?"

That earring—Sylvan Drop—was another one of his recovery artifacts. Now broken.

He’d already used the other relic to patch up the earlier cut I’d given him. Which meant...

No more instant healing. No more backup.

His jaw tightened. Fury replaced his usual smugness.

"You really want to die!"

"Shut up, fucker. Cut the bullshit."

"...What?"

Good. Get angry.

That’s what I wanted.

Getting angry in a life-or-death fight? That’s a rookie mistake.

And it looked like he’d forgotten that.

"You...!!"

His voice shook with rage.

Perfect.

Right then, I made my move—another gamble.

One I hadn’t planned for.

One I had no guarantee would work.

But that didn’t matter anymore.

I’d stripped away his healing. I’d seen the cracks forming—on his artifacts, on his composure, on his mask.

And now, all I had to do was—

"You’re angry because that artifact... it came from your first love, didn’t it?"

Everything stopped.

The mana gathering around his hand flickered out like a dying flame. His eyes widened. He stared at me as if I’d just walked out of a nightmare.

"...What?"

His voice was hollow. Fragile.

I stepped forward, slow and deliberate.

"Cut the act," I said. "I know why you’re really here—why you infiltrated the academy, why you’re pretending to be a villain among humans you claim to despise."

He didn’t respond.

Just stood there, breathing shallow, shoulders rigid.

"The truth is, you don’t even know what I know, do you?" I continued, my voice soft, almost sympathetic.

"Not satisfied with playing pretend, you actually went and hypnotized yourself. Just in case. As a failsafe."

His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

"You even falsified your own memories."

He took a step back.

"You still don’t get why you’re angry right now, do you?"

I tilted my head, watching him unravel.

"That rage you feel... it’s not about me. It’s not about the fight. It’s something deeper. There’s a dissonance—a crack in the story you’ve told yourself. A truth you tried to bury so deep, even you can’t remember it."

"Kh... Stop it," he growled, but his voice was shaking.

"Nope." I stepped closer, refusing to let up. "You’re not here for some grand terrorist mission. You couldn’t care less about the Twelve Signs. You never did."

He froze.

"Because none of it matters. It’s just noise. A script you wrote to forget the real reason."

And in that moment, I saw it.

The mask didn’t just crack.

It shattered.

Eyes wide. Breathing ragged. Fingers twitching.

He was still standing in front of me...

...but part of him had already fallen.

But that doesn’t mean this fight was over.

"Shut up!!!"

His scream tore through the air—raw, guttural, and animalistic.

I barely saw it.

A wave of mana burst from his body like an explosion. The ground beneath him cracked, the air thickened, and I was already moving—

But not fast enough.

A blade of compressed wind howled past me, grazing my cheek. Blood sprayed out in a thin arc as I tumbled backwards, barely catching my footing.

He wasn’t thinking anymore.

This wasn’t strategy.

This was fury.

"You don’t know a damn thing!" he roared, his eyes glowing with wild, unrestrained magic. "You think you’ve seen through me? You think your words matter?!"

Another strike.

The earth convulsed. Shards of stone jutted toward me like fangs. I leapt between them, my muscles screaming.

He was faster now. Stronger. Not because of power-ups or technique—

but because I’d hit something real.

Something he didn’t even know was still buried inside.

"You little parasite!" he bellowed, his voice cracking. "You think this is a game?!"

Mana surged through his veins like lightning. His face twisted—not with villainous glee, but with rage... and fear.

And for a moment—just a split second—I saw it in his eyes.

He didn’t understand why he was this angry.

But the pain was real.

He raised his arm again, aiming straight at my chest.

A magic circle flared to life in front of him—unstable, violent, desperate.

"Disappear!"

The magic circle exploded with unstable energy, a jagged pulse of raw mana streaking toward me like a storm-wrapped spear.

Too fast—

My instincts screamed.

I kicked off the ground, twisting my body mid-air. The heat from the blast kissed my skin, and for a split second, everything blurred into blinding white and deafening force.

The spell tore through where I’d just been standing, erupting in a violent blast behind me. Stone shattered. Dirt flew. A crater bloomed from the impact, swallowing the terrain in chaos.

I landed hard, knees buckling, breath ragged. The edges of my coat were singed. My vision swam.

But I was still standing.

Barely.

"Still alive?" he hissed, stalking forward like a rabid beast. "Then I’ll just keep breaking you until you stay down!"

He lunged again, another strike already charging—less refined, more reckless.

That’s when I realized it.

He wasn’t fighting with his usual precision anymore. His rhythm was off. His footwork sloppy. The calm cruelty he used to wield like a blade was gone.

He was unraveling.

My words had dug into something—torn open a seam he didn’t even know existed.

I wiped the blood from my chin, grinning despite the sting in my limbs.

"Struck a nerve, didn’t I?"

He froze.

Just for a second.

But that was all I needed.

I straightened up, blood still trickling from the corner of my mouth, and said the name I’d been saving like a dagger behind my back.

"Avi Valks."

His eyes widened—just barely—but I saw it. Like a crack in glass that had finally been touched.

"You know," I said, voice low and cutting, "you’re a disgrace. Not just to elves—but to everything that breathes."

I took a step forward.

"A servant of the High Elves who fell in love with his own master. Pathetic. You, licking the boots of someone you could never have, then running off into the human world like a rat when it didn’t go your way."

His hand twitched. His magic flared for a second, but then faltered.

"You’re not just a traitor. You’re a psychopath. You slaughtered humans like insects, saying they were filth, pests that needed to be wiped out. And yet here you are, crawling back into their world... for what?"

I paused—just for a breath—then drove in the final nail.

"For her, right? Serena Claudia."

The name shattered whatever was left of his composure.

"You wanted her. You still do. That’s what this was all for. All the lies, all the artifacts—you didn’t care about the Twelve Signs or their plans. You just wanted the power to own her."

That’s right.

He was the villain who, in the original story, eventually brought down the Chairman.

The twisted bastard who turned her corpse into a puppet—just to keep her by his side.

All those artifacts he wore like trophies?

They weren’t for show.

He was hunting for the perfect tools—tools to control her completely, even in death.

I still remember the scene that made my blood boil.

He defeated Ryen, even while Ryen was blinded by rage.

He stomped on Leo as he charged in with everything he had.

And then—he kissed the lifeless Chairman like she was some trophy he’d earned.

It was disgusting.

Horrifying.

Unforgivable.

Readers were furious.

And I was one of them.

The worst part?

He earned their trust first.

He acted like a dependable senior to Ryen, slowly worming his way into their circle.

Gained the Chairman’s faith as vice president of the Velcrest Academy.

Pretended to care.

And when they let their guard down—when they believed in him—he tore everything apart.

So many people died because of him.

And he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

Not then.

Not now.

But this time... things will be different.

He didn’t move. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Not right away.

The fury in his eyes didn’t vanish—but it faltered, flickered, like a candle caught in the wind. His breathing turned erratic, his fingers curling and uncurling like he couldn’t decide whether to cast a spell or tear his own skin off.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," he said, low and hoarse.

But he didn’t believe it.

Not really.

His magic pulsed around him—wild, incoherent, unstable. There was no rhythm, no chant, no structure. Just raw, bitter emotion wrapped in mana.

"You don’t know anything," he repeated, louder this time. "You don’t know her. You don’t know what she meant to me!"

He surged forward.

This time, I was ready.

He wasn’t fighting anymore.

He was lashing out.