A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

Andras finally set his notes aside.

He glanced over the training objective one last time, committing it to memory before extinguishing the mana lamp. Continuing tonight would accomplish little. He had identified the weakness in his approach and found a method to address it, but fatigue would only make his control less reliable. There was no reason to waste time repeating mistakes when he could resume the exercise with a clear mind.

He changed into his nightclothes and settled beneath the covers.

For once, he allowed the calculations to wait.

---

While Andras slept, Evelyne remained awake in her study.

Selene Vaelthorn stood across the desk, arms folded as she examined the imperial summons lying between them.

”Have you decided when you’ll leave?” Selene asked.

”In a week.” Evelyne leaned back in her chair. ”That should give me enough time to make the necessary arrangements before departing for the capital.”

”And what does the Empire intend to discuss?”

”The new dungeon assessment system and its implementation.” Evelyne tapped a finger against the desk. ”Standardized rankings will influence exploration rights, resource allocation, and the deployment of forces. Naturally, the noble houses will want a voice in those decisions.”

Selene gave a quiet snort. ”So the Empire intends to replace arguments with paperwork.”

”More or less.” A faint smile touched Evelyne’s lips. ”A reliable assessment can tell us how dangerous a dungeon is. It cannot tell us who deserves to profit from it.”

Their exchange carried a trace of amusement, but neither woman underestimated the importance of the meeting. House Darkmoor’s recent encounter with an S-Rank dungeon had placed Evelyne in a favorable position. The experience gave her practical grounds to challenge proposals that might otherwise be imposed by officials who had never faced such a threat themselves.

She intended to make use of that advantage.

”While I’m away, I want you to oversee the estate’s security and ensure everything continues running smoothly.”

”I’ll protect Darkmoor until you return.”

”I know. That’s why I’m leaving it in your hands.”

Evelyne’s gaze shifted toward the window before returning to Selene.

”How is Lyra progressing?”

”Better than expected.” A rare trace of approval softened Selene’s stern expression. ”She learns quickly, remembers her mistakes, and makes a genuine effort to correct them. Her talent is only C-Rank, but she’s not using that as an excuse.”

”That’s good to hear.”

”She still has a long way to go. A higher-ranked talent of the same nature might have given her greater potential, but talent alone doesn’t determine how far someone can advance. If she maintains her current discipline, she’ll become considerably stronger.”

Evelyne’s expression warmed. ”I’m glad she’s doing well. Just don’t be too hard on her.”

”I can’t promise that.”

”Selene.”

”I’d rather she struggle through difficult training now than discover the cost of inadequate preparation during a real fight.”

Evelyne laughed softly. ”You’re as stubborn as ever.”

”And you’re still trying to make everyone comfortable.”

”Someone has to.”

”Then we each have our responsibilities.”

They exchanged an amused glance. For a moment the familiar banter eased the weight of the discussion. Then Evelyne gathered the summons and placed it among the documents she would take to the capital.

”A week should be enough to put everything in order.”

”Leave the estate to me. You have enough to worry about once you reach the capital.”

Evelyne regarded her for a moment before offering a small, genuine smile.

”That’s one less thing I need to worry about.”

---

Morning light spilled across the floor of Room Three.

Andras opened his eyes, rose from bed, and began his morning routine without lingering. After washing and dressing in his academy uniform, he left his room.

By the time he reached Class A, most of the seats were occupied. Seraphina sat in her usual place, silver-blonde hair neatly arranged, posture impeccable. She glanced up as he approached.

”Good morning.”

”Good morning.”

Andras took the seat beside her and arranged his materials.

A few moments later, Professor Alaric entered the classroom. He placed a stack of notes on his desk, surveyed the students, and turned toward the blackboard. With several practiced strokes he drew a Second Circle formation.

”Today we’ll examine a problem that becomes increasingly important as your spells grow more complex.”

He marked the formation’s pathways and connections.

”Most of you have learned to refine mana circulation to reduce unnecessary consumption. Under ideal conditions this improves efficiency. But combat rarely provides ideal conditions. What happens when a spell encounters an unexpected fluctuation?”

Alaric raised a hand. Mana flowed into the diagram. The formation illuminated, its connected pathways forming a stable structure. Then he released a brief pulse of disruptive mana into one of its connections.

The circle flickered.

Several pathways destabilized in rapid succession, and the entire formation collapsed into scattered motes of light.

A few students leaned forward.

Alaric redrew the formation, modifying two connecting pathways to provide an alternate route for the mana. He activated it and introduced another disturbance.

The circle shuddered. Its glow dimmed as the disruption traveled through the modified structure, but the mana continued circulating. After a brief struggle the light steadied.

The formation held.

”This version consumes more mana,” Alaric explained. ”However, it can tolerate fluctuations that would destroy the original. Neither structure is inherently superior. The first is more efficient under ideal conditions. The second is more reliable when conditions change.”

He turned toward the class.

”Your task is to understand when each approach is appropriate. Suppose you were preparing a spell for combat. Would you reinforce a vulnerable connection or redirect the mana flow around it?”

Several students exchanged uncertain looks.

Andras studied the modified formation.

”Reinforcing the connection would be simpler, but it would increase the mana required to maintain the spell. Redirecting the flow could prevent a local disruption from destabilizing the entire formation, though it would make the structure more complicated and potentially slower to activate.”

Alaric gave a slight nod. ”Correct. The better choice depends on the spell’s purpose and the conditions under which you intend to use it.”

He continued the lesson, presenting variations in which small alterations produced different results. Andras followed each demonstration closely, paying particular attention to how the disturbances traveled through the formations.

The lesson was more relevant than it might have appeared.

He had spent time treating magic as a problem that could be solved through understanding. Identify the structure. Calculate the circulation. Reproduce the sequence. That approach had carried him far. Yet his recent failures had exposed its limitation. When an unfamiliar spell deviated from its intended course, he could understand precisely what was going wrong and still fail to correct it before the entire formation collapsed.

A more resilient structure could tolerate certain mistakes.

It could not eliminate the need to respond in time.

Andras committed the distinction to memory. He would need both reliable calculations and the ability to react when those calculations no longer matched reality.

Seraphina finished writing the last line in her notebook before turning toward him.

”Are you going to Combat Training next?”

”Yes.”

He rose, and they joined the stream of students leaving the classroom.

---

The training hall was already busy when Andras arrived.

Students collected wooden weapons from the racks while Professor Valeria Draven stood near the center of the arena, her sharp eyes assessing their movements.

”Today you’ll continue controlled combat against one another,” she announced. ”Don’t focus exclusively on the weapon in front of you. Watch your opponent’s stance, their balance, and the way their body prepares to move. A strike begins before the weapon reaches you.”

She began assigning partners. Andras was paired with a broad-shouldered student from Class A who selected a wooden sword with confident ease. They took their positions and waited for the signal.

”Begin.”

His opponent attacked first, bringing the wooden blade down in a diagonal strike. Andras raised his weapon to intercept. The impact traveled through his arms, but he shifted his stance to absorb the force rather than meet it directly. Before he could counter, the other student withdrew and adjusted his footing.

Andras’s attention moved from the sword to the man’s shoulders and feet. A slight rotation of the shoulders suggested the next strike; a shift in weight indicated its likely direction.

His mind began calculating possible trajectories and the most efficient response.

Then he remembered the problem he had been trying to correct.

He didn’t need to analyze every possibility.

He needed to recognize what was happening and respond before the opening disappeared.

Andras moved.

His wooden sword met the incoming strike at an angle, redirecting it away from his body. Instead of pausing to assess the result, he continued into a short counter toward his opponent’s exposed side. The other student twisted away just in time.

They separated by several steps.

For a brief moment neither moved.

Then the opponent changed tactics. He feinted high, drawing Andras’s guard upward, before stepping in with a quick strike toward his ribs.

Andras recognized the deception a fraction too late. He turned to block, but his opponent’s wooden blade brushed his side before his weapon could fully intercept it.

The impact was light.

The mistake was unmistakable.

His opponent pressed forward, encouraged by the opening. This time Andras resisted the urge to predict the entire sequence. Rather than calculate every possible continuation, he watched the man’s balance and waited for a committed movement.

The next attack came.

Andras shifted off the direct line, forcing his opponent to turn and adjust his footing. That correction left the man’s side exposed.

Andras reacted before he could second-guess the opening.

His wooden sword struck the opponent’s ribs cleanly.

”Enough,” Valeria called.

Both students stepped back.

Andras lowered his weapon, reviewing the exchange in silence. He had recognized the feint too late and taken a hit because of it. Yet during the final exchange he had responded to his opponent’s movement without stopping to calculate every possible outcome.

The improvement was small.

It was also real.

Valeria approached, her gaze settling on him.

”That last exchange was better.”

”Thank you, Professor.”

”Don’t take that as proof you’ve solved the problem.” Her expression remained stern. ”You still hesitated when your opponent changed rhythm. Recognizing a familiar movement is easy. Responding when the pattern changes is harder.”

”I understand.”

”Good. Then keep practicing.”

She moved on to the next pair.

Andras returned to the exercises. Some exchanges went better than others. At times he reacted without conscious deliberation; at others, old habits returned and he found himself analyzing a movement that had already passed. Each mistake simply mapped another situation where calculation still slowed him.

By the time Valeria dismissed the class, the pattern was clear enough.

He returned the wooden sword to the rack and left the training hall with the other students, his expression calm and his thoughts already turning toward the next stage of practice.

---

While Andras worked through the morning’s exercises, two imperial representatives arrived at the main gates of Ambrose Academy.

Their formal uniforms bore the insignia of the imperial administration, and one carried a sealed document case. The guards approached with the careful respect reserved for official visitors.

”We have an imperial summons for Headmistress Calista Veyne,” one representative stated. ”We request an audience to deliver it personally.”

A message was sent to the administrative building. Permission arrived shortly afterward, and the representatives were escorted through the academy’s corridors to the headmistress’s office.

A staff member knocked.

”Come in,” Calista called.

The representatives entered and bowed.

”Headmistress Calista Veyne, we have an imperial summons addressed to you.”

One of them removed a sealed letter from the document case and presented it.

Calista examined the imperial crest before breaking the seal. Her eyes moved steadily across the page.

The summons concerned the Empire’s new dungeon assessment system: its implementation, the responsibilities of participating institutions and noble houses, and the allocation of forces and resources. The same meeting that had summoned Evelyne Darkmoor would require the academy’s participation as well.

Calista read the letter a second time before setting it on her desk.

The new system would affect more than the noble houses responsible for dungeon exploration. As the institution responsible for training the Empire’s future mages and warriors, Ambrose Academy could not remain uninvolved in decisions that might eventually determine where its graduates were deployed—or what dangers they would be expected to face.

The academy’s role would need to be clearly defined before the system took effect.

After a moment’s consideration, Calista looked at the representatives.

”Inform the imperial administration that I will attend.”

They bowed again.

”As you wish, Headmistress.”