A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

After lunch, Andras returned to his room.

The Academy was unusually quiet. Most students had already begun preparing for the holiday, and the corridors that were normally filled with conversation were almost empty. Soft light filtered through the high windows, casting long pale shapes across the polished stone floors. He closed the door behind him, removed his coat, and placed it neatly over a chair before sitting on the edge of the bed.

He closed his eyes and began circulating mana through his pathways. The familiar rhythm gradually washed away the residual fatigue of the day. Minutes passed. Then hours. Eventually the sunlight outside disappeared completely. Night had fallen.

Andras opened his eyes. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single mana lamp left on low. He changed into his sleeping clothes and lay down. His mind briefly returned to Saraphina. She had been disappointed that he watched the moving picture without her. Taking her tomorrow was simple enough. There was no need to overcomplicate it.

He closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him soon after.

---

Far away from the human Empire, beneath a crimson sky, another land remained awake.

Demononia.

The demons had experienced the same strange phenomenon that had appeared across the human world—dungeons. Mana portals had suddenly emerged throughout their lands. Some had appeared in remote wilderness, their edges flickering with unstable energy. Others had manifested near settlements, forcing local forces to establish temporary cordons. One had even appeared within a territory controlled by a powerful demonic noble, creating immediate political tension.

The phenomenon had immediately attracted the attention of Demononia’s higher authorities.

Inside a dark fortress built from black stone, several high-ranking demons gathered around a massive table. The chamber was lit by low crimson mana crystals embedded in the walls. Through their own methods of detection, the demons had mapped the portals with considerable precision. A detailed map covered the surface of the table. Dozens of red markings had been placed across it, each one representing a confirmed portal.

A demon standing beside the table pointed toward one of the newer markings.

”Another portal appeared yesterday.”

”Where?”

”Western Demononia. Near the Blackridge Mountains.”

”How large?”

”Larger than the previous ones. The entrance alone is nearly twice the size of the first portal we recorded.”

The demon frowned. ”Have the investigators entered it?”

”They have.”

”And?”

An investigator stepped forward and placed several documents on the table. The parchment rustled softly against the stone.

”The internal structure is abnormal. It does not correspond to the surrounding terrain. The entrance is located inside a mountain, but the interior contains enormous chambers that should not physically fit within it. Mana density also changes between areas. Some sections contain almost no mana at all. Others contain concentrations high enough to interfere with perception and even disrupt basic spells.”

”Monsters?”

”Present.”

”Intelligence?”

”Varies. Some resemble creatures we have already encountered. Others do not. A few of them displayed coordinated behavior that suggests more than simple instinct.”

Silence spread through the chamber.

That was the most disturbing part. The dungeons were not simply caves filled with monsters. They were something else entirely. Something no one understood.

Another demon spoke, his voice lower. ”How many portals have appeared in total?”

”Thirty-seven confirmed. And more are expected. The rate of appearance has not slowed.”

A hand slowly tapped against the table. ”Has anyone discovered their origin?”

”No.”

”Why did they appear?”

”We don’t know.”

”What purpose do they serve?”

Again—”We don’t know.”

The demon’s expression darkened. ”Then continue the investigation. Do not destroy the portals unless necessary. We need information. Record everything—monster types, mana fluctuations, changes in the internal structure, anything unusual. If you encounter something intelligent, report it immediately. Do not engage unless necessary.”

The demons nodded.

But there was another matter.

The demon at the head of the table looked toward a second set of documents. His fingers rested lightly on the edge of the parchment.

”The dungeons aren’t the only unusual development.”

The room became quiet.

”The Hero has appeared.”

Several expressions changed at once. One demon straightened. Another leaned forward slightly.

Five thousand years ago, the goddess Veylora had chosen the previous Hero. He had grown stronger through countless battles until he eventually killed the Demon King. Five thousand years had passed since that defeat. And now another Hero had appeared.

”Are you certain?” one demon asked.

”Yes. The signs are consistent with the previous records.”

”Then we have a problem.”

”Yes. And this time, we cannot afford to underestimate it.”

The demon at the head of the table looked toward the map. The red markings of the dungeons seemed almost like wounds scattered across Demononia.

”The dungeons appeared around the same time the world began experiencing other changes. And now the Hero has appeared.”

”Do you believe they’re connected?”

”No. We don’t have enough evidence. But we cannot ignore the possibility.”

Another demon nodded. ”If the dungeons are related to the Hero, then waiting could be dangerous.”

”Exactly.”

The demon at the head of the table folded his hands.

”The previous Hero was allowed to grow. And eventually, he killed our Demon King. We will not repeat that mistake.”

A silence filled the room. The crimson light from the wall crystals cast long shadows across the table.

Then he gave the order.

”Find the Hero. And kill him before he becomes a threat.”

One demon lowered his head. ”And what about Ambrose Academy?”

A brief pause.

”Send that girl.”

The demon standing in the shadows finally moved. His voice was calm and precise. ”She can infiltrate the Academy without attracting attention.”

”Good. She will gather information. About the Hero. About the Academy. And anything unusual connected to the recent events.”

”And if she finds an opportunity to eliminate him?”

The answer was immediate.

”She should take it.”

The meeting ended.

The investigation into the dungeons would continue. And somewhere within Demononia, another plan had begun.

---

Morning came.

Sunlight passed through the curtains of Andras’s room in thin, pale lines. He woke naturally. After washing and dressing, he adjusted his clothes in front of the mirror, ensuring everything was in order, then left.

Andras made his way to Room No. 2. He stopped, then knocked once.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

Saraphina stood there. She was already prepared. Her silver-blonde hair fell neatly over her shoulders, and her blue eyes met his without hesitation. She wore a light outer coat over a simple but elegant dress.

”You’re not late.”

”I said I wouldn’t be.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips. ”I know.”

She closed the door behind her and stepped into the corridor.

”Shall we?”

Andras nodded. ”Yes.”

They walked through the Academy together. For a while neither spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable. There was simply no need to fill every silence. The empty courtyards and quiet stone paths made the usual distance between them feel smaller than it did on ordinary days. A light breeze moved through the open arches, carrying the faint scent of the Academy gardens.

Eventually Saraphina looked toward him.

”You’ve already watched it once, haven’t you?”

”Yes.”

”And you’re willing to watch it again?”

”Yes.”

She raised an eyebrow slightly. ”You aren’t bored?”

”I wrote it.”

”That doesn’t answer the question.”

Andras glanced at her. ”I want to see your reaction.”

Saraphina paused. Her expression softened for a brief moment before she looked ahead again. Then a small smile appeared. ”I see.”

They continued walking.

After leaving the Academy, they entered the busier streets surrounding it. Carriages passed beside them, their wheels clicking against the stone. Merchants called out to customers from open stalls. Students from the Academy could be seen throughout the streets in small groups, taking advantage of the holiday. The air smelled faintly of baked goods, polished metal, and residual mana from the street lamps that still burned at low intensity despite the daylight.

It took some time before they finally found the theater.

The building was already crowded. A large, cleanly lettered sign stood above the entrance:

**The Dreamweaver’s Labyrinth**

Several groups stood near the steps discussing the moving picture. Some spoke about the characters. Others debated the ending. A few were already arguing about whether Kael had made the correct choice in the final scene.

Saraphina glanced at the crowd. ”It seems more popular than I expected.”

”It was produced well.”

She looked at him, a faint note of amusement in her voice. ”You’re saying that as though you had nothing to do with it. You wrote the story.”

Andras did not respond. They entered the theater.

---

The lights dimmed.

The moving picture began.

This time Andras didn’t need to pay much attention to the story. He had already watched it once with Evelyne. Instead, he occasionally looked toward Saraphina. Her attention remained fixed on the screen as the scenes passed—the Astral Sea, Kael Veyrath, the Labyrinth, the Dream King, the memories Kael gradually lost, and the final choice.

She watched quietly, her expression shifting only in small ways. When the Labyrinth began taking Kael’s memories, her hands tightened slightly in her lap. When the final choice came, she leaned forward almost imperceptibly, her eyes focused and serious.

When the moving picture finally ended, the theater became silent. The screen faded to black. Then the credits appeared.

Names began passing across the screen in clean white text. Actors. Director. Production staff. Music.

And finally—

**Written by Andras Darkmoor.**

Saraphina’s eyes stopped on the name.

She slowly turned toward him.

”You really put your name on it,” Saraphina said.

Andras looked at the screen.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

He didn’t remember seeing that line the last time he watched the moving picture.

Had he simply missed it?

”I didn’t put it there,” Andras said.

Saraphina turned toward him. ”You didn’t?”

”Maybe Mother told them to put it there.”

The soft light from the fading credits caught the edge of her face.

Before she could respond—

”What?!”

A voice suddenly echoed through the theater.

The nearby conversations stopped at once. Several people turned toward the source of the sound.

Andras’s eyes narrowed slightly. Saraphina turned as well, her expression shifting from quiet amusement to mild surprise.