A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

”If the structure determines the spell’s function, why are most spells taught using fixed structures?”

The classroom grew quiet.

Elowen regarded Andras for a moment. A faint smile touched her lips—not the polite expression she usually wore for the class, but something closer to genuine interest.

”Because modifying a spell structure without understanding it is dangerous.”

Andras met her gaze calmly.

”So the limitation is knowledge, not possibility.”

Elowen paused. The question had not come from confusion. He was already thinking past the boundaries of the lesson.

”Exactly,” she said.

She turned back toward the board and addressed the class as a whole.

”Every spell you learn from a book is the result of someone else’s understanding. You are not required to remain bound by it.” Her eyes moved across the students. ”But first, you must understand the structure well enough to know what you are changing. Until then, fixed forms exist to keep you from destroying yourselves.”

She set the chalk down.

”That will be all for today.”

The students began gathering their materials. Elowen collected her books and left the classroom without further comment. Conversations rose almost immediately in her wake—some students discussing the demonstration, others still turning over the idea that spells could be altered rather than merely repeated.

Andras remained seated for a moment longer, gaze lingering on the empty board.

Knowledge, not possibility.

That distinction mattered more than most of the class seemed to realize.

---

The next period was Weapon Mastery.

Students who had skipped Spell Casting began filtering into the room, filling many of the seats that had stood empty earlier. At the same time, a number of pure mages rose and began leaving. For them, a class centered on physical weapons held little immediate value.

Seraphina glanced at Andras.

”I’m leaving.”

He nodded.

She gathered her things and exited with several others. Around the room, more than twenty students departed in total. The atmosphere shifted as the remaining group settled in—more combat-oriented, less focused on pure magical theory.

Andras’s gaze drifted toward the front rows.

Aurelia sat near the side, the seat beside her now empty. The student who had been sitting there earlier had left with the others. After a brief moment of consideration, Andras stood, walked over, and took the vacant seat.

Aurelia looked at him, mild surprise flickering across her face before it settled into something more assessing.

”How are things between you and Seraphina?” she asked quietly. ”She looked angry the other day.”

”They’re fine now,” Andras replied. ”I took her outside the academy yesterday.”

Aurelia studied him for a second longer, as though weighing whether to press further. Before she could speak, the classroom door opened.

Professor Kaelen entered.

The low conversations died down at once.

Kaelen walked toward the front of the classroom with the same stern expression he always wore. He placed several weapons on the desk: a sword, a spear, a dagger, a short axe, and a bow. None of them were ornate. None appeared to possess supernatural properties. They were simple, practical examples.

He turned toward the students. His eyes swept across the room, noting the empty seats before settling on those who remained.

”Interesting. More than twenty of you have already left.” His gaze moved toward the remaining mages. ”I assume they decided weapons are beneath them.”

A few students smiled awkwardly.

Kaelen walked toward the table and rested a hand on the sword. ”Perhaps they have good reason. After all, if your magic can destroy an enemy from fifty meters away, why bother carrying a blade?” He paused. ”But perhaps they have misunderstood the purpose of this class.”

He turned to the board and wrote:

WEAPONS

Beneath it:

Strength → Weakness → Compatibility → Situation

”Last lesson, we discussed weapon ranks,” he continued. ”You learned that weapons range from Ordinary to Legendary, and that rank alone does not determine the outcome of every battle. Today we are going to discuss something more fundamental.”

He picked up the sword.

”A sword. The most common weapon among warriors. Balanced. It offers a combination of offense, defense, speed, and versatility. A properly trained swordsman can fight at close range, defend against attacks, exploit openings, and adapt to different opponents.”

He set it down and picked up the spear.

”A spear. Greater reach. Excellent for controlling distance. A thrust can be performed without allowing an opponent to enter close range. Spear users can control space more effectively than most sword users.”

Next came the axe.

”An axe. Designed around powerful strikes. It can inflict devastating damage, but power comes with a cost. Heavier axes demand greater physical strength and can be more difficult to redirect after a committed attack.”

He gestured toward a greatsword resting against the wall.

”A greatsword. Overwhelming destructive force. Slower movements. Greater commitment. Greater demands on the body. Strong in open space, awkward in confined space.”

Then the dagger.

”A dagger. Fast. Concealable. Excellent in close quarters. But its short reach becomes a serious weakness against an opponent who can maintain distance.”

He picked up the bow.

”A bow. Range. Precision. A skilled archer can attack without allowing the enemy to approach. Helpless once that distance collapses.”

Finally, he indicated the remaining examples.

”Polearms provide reach and control. Shields provide defense and create opportunities for counterattacks.”

Kaelen stepped back from the table.

”The point is not to memorize a list. The point is to understand that every weapon creates different possibilities. There is no weapon that is superior in every situation.”

One student raised his hand. ”Professor, wouldn’t a greatsword simply be stronger than a dagger?”

Kaelen looked at him. ”In what situation?”

”Direct combat.”

”Against whom?”

”A warrior.”

”What kind?”

The student fell silent.

Kaelen picked up the greatsword. ”Suppose your opponent is wearing heavy armor in an open field. The greatsword’s destructive power becomes valuable.” He set it down. ”Now suppose you are fighting in a narrow corridor. Does its size remain an advantage?”

The student shook his head. ”No. There wouldn’t be enough room to swing it properly.”

”Correct.” Kaelen picked up the dagger. ”Now imagine an assassin who needs speed and concealment. Would this weapon suddenly become useless?”

”No, Professor. Because the assassin doesn’t need overwhelming force. They need close-range effectiveness.”

”Exactly.” Kaelen placed the dagger down. ”Then remember this: a weapon’s strength is inseparable from the situation in which it is used.”

The classroom grew quiet.

”A dagger might be terrible against an armored knight in an open battlefield. A greatsword might be terrible in a narrow corridor. A spear might dominate an opponent who cannot enter its range. A bow may kill someone before they even realize they are being targeted.”

Andras listened quietly.

The principle was simple, but useful. Weapon choice was not about asking which weapon was strongest. It was about asking which weapon created the greatest advantage in a given situation.

Kaelen walked to the board and wrote:

Body → Fighting Style → Battle Energy → Weapon → Environment

”This is something most young warriors ignore,” he said. ”Your body. A physically powerful warrior may naturally benefit from heavier weapons. Your fighting style. A warrior who prefers direct confrontation will require a different weapon from one who relies on speed and movement. Battle Energy. Your cultivation influences what you can physically and energetically sustain. Environment. A weapon perfect in an open field may become useless in a confined room.”

He folded his arms.

”But do not misunderstand. Natural compatibility does not mean absolute limitation. A fast warrior can learn to use a greatsword. A physically weaker warrior can master a spear. A warrior who prefers heavy weapons can still learn to fight with a dagger. It will simply require more effort.”

His expression grew serious.

”Do not mistake what comes naturally to you for what you are capable of. Many warriors find a weapon that feels comfortable, use it repeatedly, become competent, and then stop. Comfort is not mastery.”

A student raised his hand. ”Then how do we know which weapon is right for us?”

”You test them,” Kaelen replied. ”You learn how a sword moves. How a spear controls distance. How an axe generates force. How speed and positioning compensate for limited reach. How distance itself becomes a weapon. Then you decide. Learning more than one is fine. Mastering none of them is not.”

Andras found the principle consistent with what he already applied elsewhere. Fixed forms existed for convenience and safety. Understanding came first. Adaptation followed.

Aurelia glanced at him. ”You’re thinking too much again.”

”I’m listening.”

”You have that expression. The one where you’re dissecting everything in your head.”

Andras considered denying it, then decided there was little point. ”It’s useful.”

Aurelia sighed, though a faint smile touched her face. ”Of course it is.”

Kaelen ignored the quiet exchange and walked toward the center of the room.

”Now. I want to test your understanding.”

He pointed to a student. ”You are facing an armored opponent in an open battlefield.”

”A greatsword,” the student answered. ”Because I can use its power to break through armor.”

”Reasonable.”

He pointed to another. ”You are trapped in a narrow corridor with three opponents approaching from the front.”

The student hesitated. ”A spear?”

”Better.”

”You are an assassin. You must kill a target inside a crowded building without drawing attention.”

”A dagger.”

”Good.”

”You must protect someone while retreating from five enemies.”

”Shield and sword. The shield protects the person I’m escorting, while the sword allows me to counterattack without sacrificing too much mobility.”

”Correct.”

Finally, Kaelen’s gaze settled on Andras.

”Darkmoor. Choose a weapon.”

Several students looked toward him.

Andras glanced at the table. Sword. Spear. Axe. Dagger. Bow.

He did not answer immediately.

”Which weapon would you choose?” Kaelen asked.

”It depends.”

”On what?”

”The opponent.”

”And if you don’t know your opponent?”

”The environment.”

”And if you don’t know the environment?”

”The objective.”

Kaelen’s expression shifted slightly. ”Explain.”

”If I don’t know the opponent, environment, or objective, choosing a weapon based solely on preference is inefficient,” Andras said. ”I would choose the weapon with the greatest overall versatility—the sword. If I knew the conditions, I would adjust. Open field against one opponent: a spear could be better. Heavy armor: a weapon capable of producing greater impact. Greater speed on the opponent’s side: maintain distance with a bow if possible, or switch to a lighter weapon if distance cannot be held.”

Kaelen studied him for a moment, then nodded.

”Good.”

He turned back to the class.

”The correct answer is not always a weapon. The correct answer is understanding the problem. A warrior who asks which weapon is strongest has already asked the wrong question. The better question is which weapon gives me the greatest advantage here.”

Silence followed.

Andras leaned back slightly.

That was the real lesson. Not swords. Not spears. Not axes. Choice. A weapon was only useful when the person holding it understood how to use its strengths while minimizing its weaknesses.

Kaelen glanced toward the clock.

”That’s enough for today. Before you leave, remember this: you do not choose a weapon because it is famous, because someone stronger than you uses it, or because it looks impressive. You choose it because you understand what it allows you to do. And if you eventually discover that another weapon suits you better—change.”

He turned toward the door.

”That is all.”

The students began rising from their seats. Conversations slowly returned as they filed out of the classroom.