Awakening: Starting With The Villain System-Chapter 61 - 60: History

Huh. How?

I hadn't completed a villain quest or anything.

[It's not only the system quest that makes you level up]

Explain.

My interest was fully piqued. This was new intel.

[If you do bad things on your own, without an assigned villain quest from the system, you would still level up. Acts of malice, domination, and instilling fear align with your profession and contribute to your growth.]

I began dissecting the system message in my head, parsing the implications.

So, I didn't need the system to hand me a villain quest to level up.

The path to power was wider than I thought.

If I just did something villain-like on my own initiative, I would still be rewarded.

I could grind levels through sheer, un-sponsored jerkery.

That was incredibly good news. It meant my fate wasn't entirely in the system's hands; I could make my own opportunities.

[At this point I have a feeling I am going to regret telling you this]

I couldn't help but smile, a real, genuine smile this time.

'Fear not, for it's already too late.'

The cat was out of the bag. The possibilities were now endless.

---------

"Ah," I breathed out, the sound almost loud, but not enough to draw attention in the class.

I let my head roll back, staring at the far ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe.

This was exhausting. Not the kind of tiredness that comes from a hard fight, but the soul-deep weariness of utter, mind-numbing boredom.

I began to doubt how long I could last in the academy.

Here I was, trapped in another interminable subject with another professor who seemed to believe enthusiasm was a punishable offense.

This class, history, was torture. Worse than Monsterlogy, and that class had nearly ended me with sheer monotone lectures about beast anatomy.

At least there, I could imagine what it would look like to cut the monsters open. Here? Just dates, dead people, and magical theories obsolete for centuries. Just simply history. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Just as I teetered on the brink of total breakdown, my will to live seeping out with every tick of the clock, the professor finally closed his tome and dismissed us.

The sound of students leaving was like a chorus of angels.

I didn't move. I just slumped forward, resting my head on the desk like a man who had survived execution only to be asked to run a marathon.

I was seconds from dozing off, when suddenly I felt someone's gaze.

I cracked open an eye, just enough to see Yara staring at me, expression unreadable as always.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. Flat. Emotionless. Her default setting.

There was no concern in her tone, just a flat curiosity, like a scientist observing a strange insect.

I lifted my head slowly, the fatigue making me more blunt than usual.

"When did you start to care about me?"

It was a genuine question. Her seeking me out earlier, and now this? It was suspicious.

She rolled her eyes, a gesture that was becoming familiar, and looked away.

"Hmph, it's not like I care, so don't deceive yourself," she said, her voice crisp. "I only asked because I can't stand you making tired noises the entire class. It was getting annoying."

She punctuated the last word by snapping her binder shut.

"..."

I had no comeback. I hadn't even realized I'd been sighing and groaning audibly.

The boredom had been that profound.

"If you aren't going to say what's wrong, then keep it to yourself," she continued. "I don't care anyways."

Normally, I would have done exactly that. I would have sank back into miserable silence. But then I thought better of it.

I was dangerously close to losing my mind in this academic hell. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hurt to actually talk to someone.

Even if that someone was Yara, who treated people like they're contagious disease.

"Understand anything about history?" I asked.

"Yes," she simply replied, not even looking at me.

"Care to explain what the professor just taught? The whole… thing."

She half-turned, a flicker of impatience in her eyes.

"Didn't he already do that?"

I didn't reply. I just stared. Not blinking. Not saying anything. Just staring. Letting the full weight of my incomprehension show on my face.

After a few seconds, she shifted uncomfortably, seeming to notice my gaze even though she wasn't fully looking at me.

"What?" she asked.

"If I understood what he said, would I be asking you?" My voice was flat. "The man speaks in a monotone and uses words I'm pretty sure he invented on the spot."

She blinked once, then squinted at me like she wasn't sure whether I was serious or just stupid.

"Are you that dumb?" The question wasn't meant to be cruel, just… astoundingly direct. She seemed genuinely baffled.

A spark of irritation cut through my fatigue.

"Not everyone has a head as big as yours, one that can assimilate everything. At least be kind enough to lend me a portion of it."

Her expression froze. Then, slowly, she frowned, her brows knitting together as her fist clenched on the desk.

Her eyes sharpened like blades, a warning so clear I could almost see the red aura of death around her.

For a second, I wondered if I had pushed too far.

She said nothing. Just sat there, jaw tight, radiating dangerous silence.

She was wrestling with whatever was going on inside her head.

I could almost see the internal battle.

I smirked faintly.

"So… are you going to help me or not?"

No reply. Just more silence, her knuckles whitening from how hard she clenched her fist.

The effort to contain her infamous temper was visible, held in check by sheer force of will.

I leaned back in my chair, satisfied.

She was trying, really trying, not to explode at me.

Good. That was progress. Controlling your anger was an important step in personal growth.

And if I was the one pushing her toward maturity? Well, I'd accept my role as her life coach.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

She suddenly glared at me, our gazes meeting.

I averted my eyes, giving up on the staring contest.

It was like trying to melt a glacier with a matchstick. Hopeless.

I turned my head away from Yara and let my gaze drift lazily out the window.

Anything was better than looking at her scowling face.

The academy courtyard outside was busy with movement, students shuffling to their various locations, their voices carrying faintly through the glass.

"I—" Yara started after a long pause.

That caught me off guard. I turned back to her, eyebrows raised. I waited, curious.

I looked at her, expecting a summary, a key point, even a sarcastic one-liner.

But she clamped her mouth shut again, eyes sliding away like she regretted opening them in the first place.

She didn't continue.

"What?" I asked after a second that felt like a minute.

Her gaze snapped back to me, sharp as always.

"Get your eyes off me," she said, her voice low and tight. "It's annoying."

My jaw almost hit the desk.

Seriously? That's what she was going to say? After making me wait?

The sheer absurdity was breathtaking.

I huffed, dragging my attention back to the window.

At least the birds didn't talk in riddles.

Before I could fully return to my people-watching, Yara's voice cut through again.

"I don't know how to teach dumb people." She finally said the words in a rush, like admitting a weakness was physically painful.

I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain.

"Best way to say you don't know how to teach."

It wasn't that I was dumb; it was that the professor's teachings were complex in ways I couldn't grasp, layers upon layers of complexity.

"Tsk!" She hissed, a sharp, frustrated sound. Before turning her face away.

Her fists were clenched again, and a faint flush crept up her neck.

That almost made me laugh. Almost. There was something satisfying about poking at her composure, watching her keep herself from snapping.

Making Yara angry was dangerously entertaining, like dangling a stick over a bear's cage and somehow living to tell the tale.

For the first time since entering this academy, I almost felt like my partnership with her was the best choice I'd made.

Not because she was friendly, gods no, but because seeing her react like this was… fun. She was never boring.

Ah, it was good being mysterious, looking powerful, making people guess what cards I had up my sleeve.

Even though the truth was simple, I wasn't as strong as she saw me to be. Or so I thought.

Sure, I was leveling fast, but I knew, deep down, that the top students here were probably racing far ahead of me.

Still, appearances were everything.

I was already cooking up my next quip to throw at her when a soft, cheerful voice interrupted.

"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to overhear your conversation. But… did you say you needed help in history?"

I blinked and turned. A girl stood just a few feet away, smiling brightly at me as if she had known me forever.

She had dirt-blonde hair tied neatly back, and her dark brown eyes gleamed with friendliness.

For a moment, I just stared. I hadn't expected anyone to approach me here.

Yara's presence alone was like an invisible barrier, most people kept their distance until after class, when her fanclub swarmed her like moths to a flame.

Even now, I noticed eyes glancing in our direction from afar, but no one dared to come close.

Yet this girl hadn't approached Yara.

She was smiling at me.