A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

Morning arrived quietly over Ambrose Academy.

Andras woke before the sun had fully risen. He sat on the edge of his bed for several seconds, allowing his thoughts to settle, then washed, dressed, and left Room Three. The corridor outside was still mostly empty. Only a few early students moved along the paths, their voices low in the cool morning air.

By the time he entered Class A, several students were already seated. Saraphina glanced toward him as he approached. Her silver-blonde hair fell neatly over her shoulders.

”Good morning.”

”Good morning.”

Andras took his usual seat beside her.

A few minutes later, Professor Marissa Everhart entered. She placed her books on the desk and turned to the class.

”Today we continue with monster behavior. Instinct, territory, and adaptation. These three factors determine how a creature reacts in most situations.”

She spoke briefly about territorial aggression toward unfamiliar mana signatures and the coordinated hunting patterns of pack-type monsters. Andras listened and made a few short notes. The information could prove useful. The lesson ended, and the students began gathering their belongings without much discussion.

His next lesson was Warrior Specialization, but with Selene now handling Lyra’s warrior training, Andras had little reason to attend.

He left the academic buildings with Saraphina. They walked together toward the cafeteria and took a quieter table near the windows. They ate without discussing anything of importance, then separated afterward without further comment.

Andras returned to Room Three. He closed the door, removed his coat, and sat down to meditate.

Mana gathered around him and moved through his circuits in a steady rhythm.

Days passed in the same pattern.

Andras attended his classes, trained when the schedule allowed, and meditated whenever he had free time. One detail remained unusual. Seris had not come to see him.

After the theater incident, he had expected her to approach him eventually. She had been visibly upset after discovering that he had written *The Dreamweaver’s Labyrinth* without telling her. Normally she would have confronted him within a day or two. She had not.

Andras did not know whether she was embarrassed, angry, or simply waiting for the right moment. He did not particularly care. If she wanted to talk, she would come. If she did not, there was no reason for him to seek her out. Chasing after her emotions would only waste time.

The remaining days passed quickly.

Tomorrow would be a day off.

Andras had already made a plan. He could finally test the limits of his current strength in a controlled environment—his maximum output, the consumption rate of his newer telents, their compatibility under sustained use, and how far he could push before control became difficult.

The morning of the day off arrived under a pale sky.

Andras woke early. He finished dressing and was preparing to leave his room when a knock sounded at the door.

He paused with his hand on the latch. For a moment he assumed it was Saraphina. She was the most likely person to visit him this early, and the timing would have been consistent with her habits.

Andras opened the door.

His expression changed slightly.

Seris stood outside.

Her long silver hair fell over her shoulders. Her crimson eyes met his without looking away. For several seconds neither of them spoke. The corridor behind her was empty.

Then Andras stepped aside.

”Come in, Sister.”

Seris hesitated for a brief moment, then entered. Andras closed the door behind her. The soft click of the latch sounded louder than usual in the quiet room.

She turned to face him.

”I wanted to talk to you.”

Andras looked at her calmly.

”I expected that.”

---

Outside the academy, students were already leaving through the main gates.

With a day off, many were heading out simply to enjoy time away from their studies. The roads near the academy were busier than usual. Carriages waited along the main road. Groups of students walked together, talking and laughing as they left the wards behind.

Among those leaving was a young woman from Class E.

She walked alone along a quieter side road several streets away from the main gates, a small bag slung over one shoulder. She had planned a simple day—shopping for a few personal items, nothing urgent. The weather was mild, and the streets were already filling with people taking advantage of the free day.

She had not gone far when a small figure stepped into her path.

The girl looked no older than twelve. Her clothes were thin and worn, her arms too slender, her face hollow in a way that suggested she had not eaten properly for a long time. She stopped a few steps away and looked up with careful, uncertain eyes.

”Excuse me...” Her voice was quiet. ”Could you spare some food? Please.”

The Class E student slowed to a stop. She looked at the girl for a moment. There was no aggression in the request, only a tired kind of hope.

”What’s your name?” she asked.

”Lina.”

”I’m Mara.” The student hesitated, then gestured down the street. ”Come with me. We’ll get something to eat.”

Lina’s eyes widened slightly, as if she had not expected the answer. Then she nodded and followed.

They found a small restaurant a short distance away. Mara ordered a simple but filling meal for both of them. When the food arrived, Lina stared at it for a second before beginning to eat. She ate carefully at first, then with more urgency. Halfway through her plate she slowed and stopped.

Mara noticed. ”Why did you stop? Don’t you like it?”

Lina looked down at the remaining food. ”It’s tasty. But... can I pack this? I have a little brother. He hasn’t eaten either.”

Mara’s expression softened. ”Eat everything. I’ll order more for your brother and have it packed.”

Lina looked up, surprised, then gave a small, grateful nod. She finished what was on her plate while Mara ordered additional food and waited for it to be wrapped. When everything was ready, Mara picked up the package and stood.

”Where do you live?” she asked. ”I’ll walk with you.”

Lina hesitated only a moment. ”This way. I’ll take you.”

They left the restaurant and turned away from the busier streets. The path Lina chose grew quieter with every turn—narrower alleys, fewer people, older buildings with closed shutters. Mara followed without suspicion. The girl was small and clearly underfed. There was no reason to expect danger.

Eventually they reached a short, empty stretch between two unused structures. No windows faced the alley. No voices carried from nearby streets.

Mara looked around. ”Where is your brother?”

Lina stopped walking. She turned slowly.

For a brief instant, the hunger vanished from her eyes. Something cold and inhuman replaced it.

Mara barely had time to react.

The girl moved with unnatural speed. A hand covered Mara’s mouth before she could cry out. A precise strike followed at the base of the neck. Mara’s body went limp at once. The girl—no longer pretending—caught her before she fell and lowered her carefully to the ground.

Several moments passed in silence. The alley remained empty.

The small figure knelt beside the body and placed one hand against Mara’s forehead. A faint, almost invisible ripple of power passed between them. The talent activated without light or sound. Memories flooded in—class schedules, the layout of the dormitories, the faces of teachers and classmates, the exact route back through the academy gates, the tone of voice Mara used when speaking to guards.

When the transfer finished, the figure’s form began to change.

Bones shifted. Height increased. Hair lengthened and darkened. The structure of the face rearranged itself with unsettling smoothness. Within seconds the figure standing over the corpse looked exactly like the Class E student who had just died.

The demon straightened, now wearing Mara’s appearance and carrying her memories. She glanced down at the body once, then raised a hand. Black flames, silent and intensely hot, erupted across the corpse. In less than a minute nothing remained but ash, which the wind quickly scattered across the empty alley.

She picked up Mara’s bag, adjusted it over her shoulder, and stepped out of the alley.

Instead of continuing toward the capital, she turned around and walked back the way the real Mara had come.

Toward Ambrose Academy.

When she reached the gates, one of the guards glanced at her identification.

”Go ahead.”

”Thank you.”

She walked through the gates, her expression ordinary and her footsteps matching the rhythm of the students moving across the grounds.

She continued deeper into the academy, past the residential buildings and toward the main academic halls. The guards saw only a returning student. The other students who passed her saw only a familiar face from Class E.

But beneath that borrowed face, the demon’s thoughts were clear and focused.

The Hero chosen by Goddess Veylora was here.

And she had finally entered the place where he lived.