A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

The rumor reached Ambrose Academy three days after Calista’s announcement about the dungeons.

At first it was nothing more than a whisper. A few students spoke about it between classes. Others mentioned it over meals, treating it like another piece of interesting news from the capital. By the end of the day, however, almost everyone had heard it.

Lucian was the Goddess’s chosen Hero.

Andras heard the rumor while walking through one of the academy corridors. Two students were speaking several steps ahead of him.

”Did you hear?”

”About Lucian?”

”Yes. They say the Church has confirmed that he’s the Hero chosen by Goddess Veylora.”

”The Hero? The one from the old prophecy?”

”Apparently.”

Andras continued walking without slowing down.

He already knew. What interested him was not the information itself—it was the timing.

In the original story, Lucian’s identity had remained hidden for much longer. This was happening far too early.

Andras glanced toward the students for a moment before continuing down the corridor. A small deviation. Nothing more. There was no reason to assume the timeline would continue following the original story perfectly.

He was not worried. Nor did he feel any particular need to investigate who had spread the rumor. If the Church had leaked the information, that was their decision. If someone else had discovered Lucian’s identity, that was equally irrelevant. Unless it affected him, it was not worth his time.

Still, there was one person he could ask.

Vespera.

She was the newly appointed Saintess of the Church of Veylora. More importantly, she already knew Lucian was the Hero. If anyone from the Church might know something about the situation, it would be her.

Andras found her later that afternoon. She was standing alone in a quiet section of the academy grounds, near a low stone balustrade that overlooked one of the inner gardens. When she noticed him approaching, her expression remained calm.

”Andras.”

”Vespera.”

He stopped in front of her. ”I heard a rumor.”

Vespera looked at him. ”About Lucian?”

So she had heard it too.

”Yes.” Andras studied her expression. ”You never told me who the Hero was before. Now rumors are spreading that Lucian is the Goddess’s chosen Hero. Did you spread them?”

Vespera’s eyes widened slightly. ”No.” Her answer came immediately. ”I didn’t.”

Andras remained silent.

Vespera shook her head. ”I genuinely don’t know who started it. No one asked for my permission to reveal Lucian’s identity, either.”

”Did anyone from the Church tell you that his identity would be revealed?”

”No.” She paused. ”As far as I know, his identity was supposed to remain hidden.”

Andras nodded. That was enough. He did not ask another question. Whoever had caused the change was not important. The timeline had deviated. That was all.

”Understood.”

Vespera looked at him for a moment. ”You’re not surprised?”

”About Lucian?”

”Yes.”

”No.”

He had known for a long time. Vespera seemed slightly puzzled by his answer, but Andras had no intention of explaining. He turned away.

”That’s all I wanted to know.”

Then he continued walking. Behind him, Vespera remained silent. Andras did not look back.

---

The following month passed without any major incident involving Andras.

Dungeons continued to appear across Valtharyn. New mana portals were discovered in multiple regions. The imperial investigation teams expanded their operations, while adventurers and noble families began showing increasing interest in the newly discovered spaces. Reports of monsters, rare materials, mana crystals, and other resources quickly spread. The initial fear surrounding the portals gradually changed into something else.

Opportunity.

People began entering dungeons under official supervision. Some returned with valuable resources. Others returned injured. Some never returned at all.

Ambrose Academy also adjusted. Students spoke about dungeons more frequently than before. The death of Romeo Ravenhart became old news, though his empty seat remained a quiet reminder of what had happened. As for Lucian, the rumor surrounding his identity spread even further. The students who once viewed him as merely a talented warrior now looked at him differently. Some admired him. Others feared him. A few treated him with obvious reverence.

Lucian himself seemed largely unchanged. He continued attending classes and training as he always had.

Andras paid little attention to the reactions around him. The Hero was the Hero. That had not changed. What mattered to Andras was his own progression.

During that month, his cultivation advanced steadily. His mana became denser. His control improved. And eventually—

Mid Fourth Circle.

Andras opened his eyes after completing another breakthrough. The pressure surrounding him gradually settled. He remained seated for several seconds, feeling the difference in his mana. The increase was not overwhelming, but it was noticeable. His foundation had become considerably more stable.

He was not satisfied yet. There was another matter that had occupied far more of his private time than the breakthrough itself.

A First Circle spell.

For someone at the Mid Fourth Circle, mastering a First Circle spell should have been trivial. For Andras, it had been surprisingly difficult. His unusual mana structure had made even the most basic formations unstable.The mana refused to settle into the correct pathways. Circles collapsed halfway through construction. The spell either failed to form or dispersed the moment he attempted to stabilize it.

He had practiced night after night in his room.

The first attempts ended almost immediately—the mana structure would form for less than a second before shattering. On the second and third nights, he managed incomplete frameworks that held for a few heartbeats before unraveling under their own internal pressure. By the tenth attempt he could maintain the outer circle long enough to begin shaping the inner lines, only for the entire formation to collapse the moment he tried to lock it in place. The fifteenth attempt produced a stable outer ring that lasted nearly half a minute before the core destabilized. The twentieth held longer still, but the mana flow remained uneven, leaking at the edges.

He continued anyway.

Adjusting the sequence. Refining the density. Forcing the mana to obey a structure that did not come naturally to him. Each failure taught him something small about the friction between his talents and conventional spell construction. He treated the process the same way he treated everything else—methodically, without frustration, and without stopping.

Lyra had seen most of it.

She never interrupted. She simply remained in the room when he practiced, quietly preparing tea or organizing the space while the soft glow of incomplete spellwork flickered and failed around him. She had watched the same process repeat itself across many nights without comment, her presence steady and unobtrusive.

On the night he finally succeeded, she was there again.

Andras sat cross-legged near the window, mana gathering around his fingers with practiced precision. The formation built itself cleanly this time—no tremor, no leakage, no sudden collapse. The outer circle locked. The inner structure settled. The First Circle spell stabilized in the air before him, complete and steady, casting a faint, controlled light across the floorboards.

He held it for several seconds, studying the structure with clinical attention. Then he dispersed the mana.

”Finally.”

Behind him, Lyra’s soft intake of breath was audible. When he glanced back, she was standing near the table, hands lightly clasped, a clear smile on her face.

”Young Master... you did it.”

”Yes.”

Her eyes brightened with genuine happiness. ”I’ve seen you try so many times. Night after night. I’m glad it finally worked.”

Andras regarded her for a moment. There was no exaggerated praise in her tone—only quiet relief and honest satisfaction for him. He gave a slight nod.

”It took longer than it should have.”

”But you succeeded,” she said. ”That’s what matters.”

He turned back toward the window. One First Circle spell. It was not impressive by any measure of advanced magic. But it proved something important. His control was improving. The foundation was becoming more reliable. That was enough for now.

The rest of the month continued much the same way. Classes. Training. Occasional reports of new dungeons reaching the academy. Rumors about Lucian that no longer held his interest. Andras simply continued moving forward, treating each day as another incremental step rather than a dramatic shift.

---

One month later, Andras stood outside Headmistress Calista Veyne’s office.

He knocked.

”Come in.”

Andras opened the door. Calista was sitting behind her desk, several documents arranged before her. Her eyes moved toward him.

”You’re here for your leave.”

”Yes.”

She picked up one of the documents. ”The Duchess already submitted the request. I’ve approved it.”

”Thank you.”

Andras nodded. Calista placed the document aside. ”How long will you be gone?”

”A few days.”

”Very well.”

Andras turned toward the door.

”Why are you leaving?”

He stopped. Andras glanced back at her. ”My mother wants me to return home for a short while.”

”Is something wrong?”

”No.” He paused briefly. Then he explained the reason. ”A moving picture play is having its first showing soon. My mother wants to watch it with me.”

Calista looked mildly surprised. ”A moving picture play?”

”Yes.”

”My mother has been waiting for its first showing,” Andras said. ”She wants us to watch it together.”

Calista nodded. ”I see.” She did not seem to think much of it. ”Then you may leave.”

”Thank you.”

He opened the door and stepped out of the office.

Tomorrow, he would leave Ambrose Academy.