A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

The first warning was not an alarm.

It was the silence of the academy’s detection wards.

For a fraction of a second, Ambrose Academy’s ancient protective formations continued to function normally. Mana flowed through the barrier stones buried beneath the grounds. Detection runes swept across the courtyards and buildings, while the outer wards monitored every approach.

Then space twisted beyond the western perimeter.

The air rippled.

A thin, black fissure opened in the world, its edges trembling as though reality itself were struggling to hold its shape.

One figure stepped through.

Then another.

Within seconds, twenty demons had crossed the boundary.

The fissure snapped shut behind them.

The academy’s barrier remained intact. Not a single ward had been broken. The demons had simply exploited a distortion in space, slipping through the protected boundary without registering as intruders.

At the front of the group, the demon who had opened the passage lowered his hand.

Blood trickled from one nostril. Dark markings crawled across his wrist, fine cracks spreading through their surface before fading beneath his skin. His breathing had grown heavier, and the fingers of his right hand trembled faintly.

Spatial manipulation came at a price.

He had paid it willingly.

”Don’t waste time,” he ordered.

He appeared to be a man in his thirties, with black horns curving backward from his temples. Dark markings climbed his neck and disappeared beneath his clothing. His expression remained composed, almost indifferent, but the pressure radiating from him was enough to make the other demons instinctively keep their distance.

A Sixth Circle mage demon.

Even among their kind, that realm represented considerable power.

He had not come here to indulge in pointless slaughter. He had come to complete a mission.

”Find the Hero,” he continued. ”Kill him before he grows any stronger. Eliminate anyone who interferes, especially those with the potential to threaten us in the future.”

His voice carried no anger.

No excitement.

Only certainty.

The demons dispersed.

Several headed toward the academy’s central buildings, while others moved toward the training grounds and student residences. They spread out with practiced efficiency, each group taking a different route through the grounds.

They did not need to kill every student.

The Hero was their primary target. The academy’s other promising students were secondary objectives, valuable enough to eliminate before they could become future enemies.

Twenty demons had entered Ambrose Academy.

And the students had no idea that the hunt had already begun.

For those caught unprepared, even a single Fifth Circle demon could be fatal. Against a coordinated force of them, panic and hesitation would cost lives.

Their force had entered from outside.

Their most dangerous infiltrator was already inside.

A girl walked through a nearby corridor, her footsteps blending with the ordinary sounds of the academy.

She wore the face of a human student named Mara. She possessed Mara’s memories and knew the academy’s routines well enough to move through its halls without attracting suspicion.

Sephtis had never needed to force her way through the barrier.

She had been waiting on the other side all along.

And now, as the attack began, she could continue wearing her borrowed face while the academy descended into chaos.

---

Lucian heard the first scream while leaving his classroom.

He stopped.

The sound came from the corridor ahead—a sharp, terrified cry followed by the crash of something heavy striking the floor.

Then came hurried footsteps.

A student stumbled around the corner, one hand clamped over his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers, staining his uniform dark red.

”Help—!”

He nearly collided with Lucian before catching himself against the wall.

Behind him, a second figure emerged.

At first glance, it looked human.

Then its disguise began to peel away.

Skin darkened. Black horns pushed through its skull, and its fingers lengthened into hooked claws. A foul, metallic smell swept into the corridor, cutting through the familiar scent of polished stone and parchment.

The wounded student stared at the creature.

”D-Demon!”

The word had barely left his mouth when the creature lunged.

Lucian reacted instinctively.

Golden mana erupted from his palm, forming a shield just as the demon’s claws slammed into it.

CRACK!

The impact hurled Lucian backward.

His boots scraped across the floor, and pain shot through his arm. He managed to regain his footing before striking the wall, but the force had numbed his fingers.

His eyes widened.

The demon was strong.

Far stronger than an ordinary academy student.

It attacked again.

Lucian twisted aside. Claws ripped through the air where his head had been, then swept across his uniform, tearing three deep gashes into the fabric.

He counterattacked immediately.

Golden mana condensed before his palm and burst forward in a concentrated blast.

The spell struck the demon squarely in the chest.

A flash of light filled the corridor. The creature slid backward, its feet grinding against the stone, but when the light faded, it was still standing.

It lowered its arms and glanced at the faint scorch marks across its body.

Then it looked at Lucian.

”You’re stronger than the reports suggested.”

Lucian said nothing.

His gaze moved between the demon’s shoulders, arms, and feet. He searched for a weakness, some flaw in its posture or movement that he could exploit.

He had no time to waste.

Another scream shattered the silence.

This one came from behind him.

Lucian turned.

A girl had stopped to help a fallen student. She was kneeling beside him, reaching out a hand to pull him upright.

She never saw the demon approaching from her blind side.

A shadow crossed the floor.

Claws pierced her chest.

For one terrible moment, the girl remained upright, her hand still extended toward the fallen student. Confusion spread across her face as she looked down at the claws protruding from her body.

Her lips parted.

No words came out.

Then her knees buckled.

She collapsed beside the student she had tried to save.

The boy stared at her.

A heartbeat passed before he began screaming.

Lucian froze.

The demon withdrew its hand. Blood dripped from its claws and struck the polished floor, one drop at a time.

The metallic smell grew stronger.

Something tightened painfully in Lucian’s chest.

”You—”

Golden mana surged around his fist.

He charged.

His opponent met him head-on.

Their attacks collided with a thunderous impact, sending a shockwave through the corridor. Windows shattered. Glass fragments scattered across the floor, catching the light as students nearby stumbled and cried out.

Lucian’s anger burned hotter with every passing second.

He wanted to tear the creature apart.

He wanted to make it suffer for what it had done.

But the surrounding corridors were filling with screams. Students were fleeing in every direction, some running toward the fighting without realizing that the passage ahead had become a killing ground.

The demon noticed Lucian’s hesitation.

Its mouth twisted into a cruel grin.

”Go on, Hero. How many can you save?”

Lucian’s jaw tightened.

The creature was deliberately provoking him. It wanted him to abandon his judgment, to throw himself into a fight while other students died around him.

He could feel the anger demanding that he attack again.

He refused to let it control him.

Lucian released a concentrated spell at the demon’s feet.

The explosion tore through the floor and forced the creature to retreat. Before it could recover, Lucian broke away and rushed toward the injured students.

”Get them out of here!” he shouted. ”Don’t stop until you reach the evacuation point!”

He pulled the wounded boy to his feet and shoved him toward the fleeing students.

”Take her with you!”

The boy looked down at the girl.

His face crumpled.

”She’s—”

”Move!”

Lucian’s voice cut through the corridor.

The boy flinched, then stumbled away, another student catching him by the arm. Together, they fled toward the nearest safe passage.

Lucian remained behind.

The demon slowly straightened. Dust drifted from its shoulders as it rolled its neck, seemingly amused by the exchange.

”You think you can protect them all?”

”No.”

Lucian raised his hands.

Golden mana gathered around his arms, illuminating the bloodstained corridor.

”But I’ll stop you from killing anyone else while I’m standing here.”

The demon’s grin widened.

”Then die trying.”

It lunged.

Lucian met it head-on.

The battle had only begun.

---

Elsewhere in the academy, Andras heard the screams before he saw the blood.

Students rushed through the corridors, their footsteps hammering against the stone. Books lay abandoned beneath their feet. A mana lamp flickered overhead, its light trembling with every distant explosion.

”Demons! They’ve entered the academy!”

”Get out of the way!”

”Where are the instructors?!”

Panic spread faster than the news itself.

Seraphina turned toward the commotion, her expression tightening.

”How did they get past the barrier?”

Andras glanced toward the window.

”Someone found a way.”

She looked at him sharply.

”That doesn’t concern you?”

”It concerns me greatly.” His eyes followed a fleeing student as the boy stumbled over a fallen bag and scrambled back to his feet. ”I’m deciding how much.”

For a moment, Seraphina simply stared at him.

Then another explosion shook the building.

She turned toward the window.

Beyond it, the academy had become a battlefield.

Dark figures moved through the courtyard, cutting off escape routes and driving students away from the central buildings. Mana flashed between the trees. Somewhere nearby, stone shattered with a deafening crash.

A student in training armor tried to flee across the courtyard.

A demon caught him from behind.

The impact sent the student crashing through a stone railing. Dust erupted from below, swallowing his body from sight.

Seraphina’s breath caught.

Andras watched the dust settle.

He felt no urge to rush outside. No sudden indignation at the sight of the attack. No instinctive obligation to place himself between the demons and their victims.

Those instincts belonged to people who believed suffering was a debt the world owed them to prevent.

Andras had never accepted such a debt.

The dead were dead. The weak were vulnerable. The world had never promised that either condition would be temporary.

What mattered was understanding the situation before it became someone else’s decision to make for him.

He stepped closer to the window.

One demon moved toward the eastern buildings. Two more were cutting through the courtyard, while another group had already disappeared between the student residences.

They weren’t moving randomly.

Their advance was organized. Their paths suggested that they were searching for specific targets while preventing the academy’s students from gathering into a coordinated defense.

That made the situation more dangerous.

It also made it more predictable.

”Seraphina.”

She looked at him.

”Don’t waste your mana on anyone you can’t finish quickly. If we get separated, prioritize your own survival.”

Her blue eyes narrowed.

”And the other students?”

”Help them if doing so doesn’t compromise you.”

The answer was cold, but not careless.

A dead Seraphina would be a loss. An exhausted Seraphina would be a liability. Neither outcome served him.

She studied him for a moment, apparently searching for some sign that he was joking.

There was none.

”You really intend to make every decision based on whether it benefits you?”

”Whenever possible.”

Another impact rattled the windows.

Before Seraphina could respond, the balcony outside erupted with a sharp crack.

Andras turned.

A massive figure had landed beyond the window.

Stone fractured beneath its feet. Glass trembled in its frame, and dust sifted from the ceiling as the creature straightened.

It was broad-shouldered, with black horns curving from its head and dark scales covering its forearms. Its claws were long and thick, their edges catching the light like polished blades.

The demon surveyed the fleeing students with open contempt.

Then its gaze settled on Andras and Seraphina.

”More academy brats.”

It smiled, revealing rows of pointed teeth.

Andras did not retreat.

He studied the creature’s physique, the density of its aura, and the way its weight settled over its legs. Its build suggested a combatant who relied on physical strength. The pressure rolling off it confirmed that it was no ordinary opponent.

Powerful, certainly.

But power alone did not guarantee discipline.

Andras activated the System’s status inspection.

A translucent panel appeared before his eyes.

[Name: Varkhaz]

[Race: Demon]

[Age: 63]

[Class: Warrior]

[Bloodline: Lesser Abyssal Bloodline (B-Rank)]

[Realm: Mid Fifth Circle Warrior]

[Talent: Ruinous Claws (B-Rank)]

For a moment, the chaos around him receded into the background.

His attention settled on a single line.

Lesser Abyssal Bloodline.

A faint gleam appeared in his violet eyes.

A bloodline.

Unlike humans, demons possessed an inherited connection to the Abyss, and their bloodlines could grant them advantages beyond ordinary peoples. Andras had known for some time that acquiring valuable bloodlines could greatly expand his future options.

The Devouring System made such possibilities worth pursuing.

But an opportunity was only valuable if he could obtain it.

His gaze moved over Varkhaz again.

A B-Rank bloodline. A Fifth Circle realm. A talent designed for close combat.

The combination was worth investigating.

Most opportunities were either too weak to matter or too dangerous to pursue without a reasonable return. Varkhaz presented a different calculation.

The demon was no longer merely an enemy.

It was a potential acquisition.

Andras’s interest sharpened.

Of course, he would have to survive the encounter first.

Varkhaz stepped through the broken window. Glass crunched beneath its boots, and the floor groaned under its weight.

”Which one of you wants to die first?”

Seraphina’s mana stirred around her fingers.

Andras moved half a step forward, placing himself where he could observe the demon without obstructing her movements.

”Neither of us needs to die.”

Varkhaz’s grin widened.

It mistook his calmness for fear.

Andras returned a faint, humorless smile.