Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day-Chapter 152: You’re All Weak [IV]

Pain laced through my body in more places than I cared to count.

My left leg could barely support my weight anymore, my back screamed in agony every time I tried to move, and each breath I took burned like there was a fire in my lungs.

My chest was tight, and I had lost most of the sensation in my right forearm — which felt like it was being roasted over an open flame.

That guy — Calem, was it? — had an exceptionally irritating innate ability.

Wounds inflicted by his sword didn’t just hurt. They burned.

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If he’d landed a few more slashes, the pain might’ve been unbearable.

Worst of all, I was still bleeding.

Some wounds soaked through my clothes, others leaked sluggishly, but I could feel the continuous blood loss leaving me lightheaded, even while sitting.

Maybe I had underestimated my opponents a little.

They were strong.

Well, obviously.

They were just below the Top Ten in rankings.

Leon and Reiner were ranked eleven and twelve, just shy of breaking into the elite tier.

And the rest of them were no joke either.

There was that sharpshooter — Erwin. He gave me the most trouble since I had to keep my focus split on him.

And there was also that girl Veyna — the one who could turn invisible into shadows like a ghost. She managed to stab me in the back twice.

Reiner was also a nuisance until he had a team to fight me with.

Individually, they all were powerful.

But together, they were a problem.

Maybe I could use some of them in the future.

Still, if I had been using the full strength of my Circulation Technique, I would’ve ended this much faster.

And if I’d had Aurieth, there wouldn’t even have been a fight.

But none of that mattered now.

Because despite the odds, I had won.

Michael immediately made the announcement. Medics took the unconscious bodies of Erwin and Sylen.

But I remained seated. And no one in the audience moved either.

It was finally time to deliver my cool, final boss-level speech.

Heh.

Leaning back on my self-made throne, I looked up and gazed at the gathered crowd. My expression was one of utter indifference laced with a shred of disdain.

It was very similar to the expression my father used to show me.

…Damn it.

When I spoke, my voice dripped with nothing but disgust. "You’re all weak."

Silence followed.

Not the stunned, reverent kind.

No, this was the kind of silence that burned.

The kind that they were going to remember for a long time, thick with resentment, disbelief, and just a hint of fear.

Good.

I raised my good hand and swept a pointing finger at them.

"I don’t care if you’re a lowborn or a high-noble. I don’t care if your dear father is the ruler of four seas or your loving mother is a back alley whore. I don’t care if you were raised in a castle or an orphanage." I paused, then practically spat out the next words. "You’re all weak."

I let the words hang in the air, enjoying the tension.

The Cadets shifted uncomfortably, some clenching their fists, others glaring daggers at me. They hated hearing it.

They hated the fact that I could just say whatever I wanted and they couldn’t do anything about it. There were no repercussions.

Because I had power.

And they had none.

Not against me.

I stood up from my makeshift throne, swaying just a little.

The medics rushed in again, this time to take to heal my injuries.

But I pushed them aside and continued speaking.

"How dare you all?! How dare you all be so pathetic? So weak! And yet, instead of striving to be better, to be stronger, you continue to fight amongst yourselves. You discriminate on the basis of birth and status, when the only thing that matters in this institute — no, in this world — is strength!"

The weight of my words pressed down on them, suffocating in its intensity.

Their expressions twisted — shame, anger, and denial flickering across their faces like an open flame desperate for air.

And I let it burn.

My boots crunched against the bloodstained ground as I took another step forward.

It was painful to move, but I didn’t care.

Because of my Circulation Technique, my endurance and pain tolerance were much higher than an average [C-ranker] anyway.

"You think your lineage makes you strong?" I scoffed. "You think your money, your connections, your noble blood will save you?"

My gaze hardened, like daring someone to speak. "Let me ask you something. When you’re on the battlefield facing death, do you think it’ll stop and ask for your family name? Or do you think it will applaud you for rising in society from slums and rags?"

A few flinched. Others lowered their gazes.

I smiled.

And it wasn’t a kind smile.

"The answer is no. No one cares." I let the words sink in, let them carve their way into their bones. "It doesn’t matter if you’re a royal or a peasant. Strength is the only factor of greatness. And right now? None of you have it."

Some took sharp breaths as their fists trembled. Others had their faces dropped like they’d been shown a mirror.

Then—

"You bastard!"

Someone finally flipped.

Then, a few more joined the outburst.

"You think you’re invincible?"

"You think because you won today, you’ll always be on top?"

"How dare you act like you’re better than us just because you’re a little strong?!"

"You fucking bastard! It’s easy for you to say all that because you never struggled in your life!"

"Boooo! Fuck you!"

I grinned, then threw my head back and laughed.

I laughed until the arena fell into comparative silence once again.

Finally, I shrugged. "As I had said from the start of all this, I am better. And will I always be on top? That’s the idea, yes. Any of you are free to prove me wrong. Climb the ranks and challenge me! Put me in my place! If you think I’m so wrong, then draw your judgment and punish me!"

The silence was absolute this time.

"That’s what I thought," I sneered. "The problem is not only that you all are weak, but also that you don’t even have the guts to change that."

I shook my head. "You think that just because you’re Cadets at the most prestigious Awakened Institute, you’ve already achieved everything in life? Disgusting. You accept mediocrity. You cling to status, to heritage, to politics — things that mean nothing when faced with a real enemy."

I took another step forward. Blood dripped from my fingers, staining the ground, but the medics didn’t move to help me this time.

Even they were too busy listening.

So I drove the nail in deeper.

"You think I had it easy?" I almost chuckled. "I’m banished by my family. I came to the Academy with not a single Card in my arsenal and not one Credit to my name. And yet, I still became the Ace. Even today, some of the strongest Cadets — nobles and commoners alike — stood no chance against me. Everything I have, I took. Everything I am, I forged."

The weight of my words settled over them, but I wasn’t done.

I spread my arms wide, dramatically gesturing at the ruined battlefield. "This… This is what true power looks like. Not names. Not money. Not privilege. Power is earned. Through blood. Through battle. Through suffering."

Then, I smirked and delivered the killing blow.

"Which is why, from this day forward, I won’t allow any of you to afford weakness anymore." I tilted my head slightly. "You all love your status, don’t you? Your precious standings, your little competitions, your high-born arrogance, and your commoner pride?"

That sparked a reaction. Some Cadets paled. Others leaned forward with a frown. A few nobles scowled. A few commoners squinted.

"Fine," I said. "Let’s make things interesting, then. From now on, I’m enacting a new rule. Every quarter, the top Cadets will get the first pick of missions. First, the Top Ten. Then the Top Fifty. The Top Hundred will get whatever scraps are leftover. Everyone below them will get nothing."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, but I wasn’t pressed on.

"Oh, and every quarter, there will also be a soft rank reset. A series of battle royales will be held. It’ll be a chance for everyone to climb ranks faster. The only ones exempt will be the Top Ten. If you want a mission, if you want relevance, you fight for it."

Chaos erupted.

"What?! You can’t do that! Missions are assigned by the Instructors! By the Academy!"

"This is bullshit!"

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"You’re casting us aside just because we’re low-ranked?! How the hell is that fair?!"

Their outrage was understandable.

Missions were everything.

Completing high-level missions didn’t just grant rewards and Credits — it built reputations.

Cadets who handled elite missions went on to become Hunters worthy of history. They become legends.

Some third-years were already seen as future heroes, all because of the phenomenal missions they had completed in their first and second years.

What I had done wasn’t much different from how the Academy functioned.

Instructors and Professors already assigned missions based on Cadet ranks.

But by completely locking out everyone below the Top Hundred?

I was making one thing clear.

If they didn’t get stronger, they would become irrelevant.

I let them simmer in that thought before continuing. "Is it unfair? Yes. But that’s the point. Since you all love joining collectives and forming factions to look down on each other, I figured you’d enjoy this. Oh, and in case you doubt me — I can do it. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

I lingered for a second before explaining, "Aces have full authority over their batch. Even the Professors can’t intervene. The only ones who can override me are the two Aces above me. Second-year Ace, Aarav. And third-year Ace, Vereshia."

I lifted my arm again and pointed at a section of the arena — at a silver-haired beauty lounging lazily on the VIP balcony.

Vereshia Morrigan.

The crowd followed my finger as I gave her an excited wave.

She rolled her crimson eyes before bobbing her head a slow, deliberate nod.

Murmurs turned into gasps. Some stiffened. Others gritted their teeth. But no retorts were heard again.

I dropped my hand and beamed. "So, my fellow Cadets — become strong. If you don’t, you’ll be left behind. I won’t tolerate weakness in my batch. Try coming at me if you wish, but you’ll be trampled just like the fools today."

With that, I started walking toward the medical room, limping slightly because of my left leg.

But after a few steps, I stopped.

Then, without looking back, I pointed at another section of the field.

More precisely, at three people.

To Willem, who was watching the whole thing go down with mild amusement.

To Alice, who rested her chin on her palm and looked on with calculating eyes.

And to Thalia, who seemed like she was barely restraining herself.

I smirked. "Oh, and… you three are next."

I didn’t need to elaborate.

They understood my declaration.

Next to get trampled.