I Got Reincarnated as the Game's Villain-Chapter 69: The Academy [8][Edited]

In a secluded corner of the forest, a young man emerged, his appearance both enigmatic and striking. His raven-black hair cascaded in soft waves, framing a face sculpted with precision. Piercing emerald eyes gleamed with an intensity that hinted at secrets untold. His sun-kissed complexion added a rugged charm, while his sleek black attire, paired with a scarf draped loosely around his neck, exuded an air of mystery.

"It’s been a while, Bella," he greeted, a faint smile playing on his lips as his gaze locked onto the figure before him.

Bella stood poised, her ethereal beauty akin to a goddess incarnate. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow under the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, and her waist-length green hair shimmered like silk. Her royal blue eyes, mesmerizing yet guarded, betrayed a frosty reserve that hinted at layers of complexity beneath her striking exterior.

"I don’t recall meeting you. How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice steady yet laced with suspicion. Her hands instinctively brushed against the twin daggers concealed within her spatial ring.

"We’ve met before," the young man replied, his smile widening as though savoring a memory she could not recall. "You just don’t remember."

Bella’s expression hardened. "Another creep," she muttered under her breath. Without hesitation, she dismissed him as an admirer with delusions, her form blurring as she darted away in a flash.

The young man sighed, his disappointment palpable. "It really pains me to do this... but I have an appointment." With a resigned expression, he unsheathed a bastard sword that gleamed with a radiant, almost otherworldly light.

....

....

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Mason sprinted through the dense jungle, his breaths ragged as exhaustion clung to him like a shadow. His raven hair was disheveled, sweat dripping down his sun-tanned skin. Though he had managed to overpower Bella, the victory had come at a cost. His mana reserves were depleted, and his limbs felt leaden.

But there was no time to rest. Saving her was paramount—without her, his plan would unravel. His memories of this time were fragmented yet vivid, and he clung to them with desperate determination.

"Damn it, Bella!" Mason cursed, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence of the forest. "Now I have no idea if she’s still there or if someone else got to her first."

With renewed urgency, he pushed himself harder, moving so swiftly he became a blur among the trees.

BOOM!

The ground trembled beneath him as wild roots erupted from the soil, snaking toward him with unnatural speed. Snarling in frustration, Mason swung his bastard sword in a wide arc, its golden glow cleaving through the vegetation.

"Aghh!" he roared, the delay gnawing at his dwindling patience.

Tilting his gaze, he caught sight of his assailant. His expression twisted in shock. "Ferlen?! What the hell are you doing here?"

Ferlen replied, his tone laced with mockery. "It seems my reputation precedes me."

Mason scowled. "I don’t have time for this. Go find someone else to play with, idiot."

Ferlen’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "You dare insult me? Fine. I’ll just have to teach you some respect."

In a blur, Ferlen lunged. Mason met the challenge head-on, his bastard sword igniting in a blaze of golden light that pulsed like flames.

"Don’t overestimate yourself," Mason growled, his voice low and deadly. "I’ll make this quick."

The clash of steel echoed through the forest as the two warriors engaged in a battle of relentless ferocity, their every strike a testament to their resolve.

….

....

"Hah… hah… hah…"

In the heart of the dense forest, a woman stood trembling, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Her jade-green hair clung to her sweat-drenched face, and her ruby-like eyes burned with a mixture of exhaustion and defiance.

She wasn’t just any mage—she was a prodigy, a once-in-a-generation talent whose mastery over ice had left countless foes in ruin. But today, she faced an opponent unlike any she had ever encountered.

"Just die already!" she roared, her voice carrying both desperation and fury. Stretching her arms forward, she summoned her power, and a torrent of ice spikes erupted into existence.

Whoosh!

The air hummed as the crystalline projectiles surged toward the monstrous foe. Yet when the barrage struck, the creature emerged unscathed, its grotesque form unmoved by her efforts.

This was a first.

For someone who had never known defeat, the realization struck her like a dagger. The indomitable genius, unbeaten and untouchable, was now on the brink of despair. Her confidence faltered, and the weight of her situation pressed heavily on her trembling frame.

But giving up wasn’t an option.

She had amassed too many points to afford failure. Victory wasn’t just a goal; it was survival.

After securing enough points earlier in the trial to comfortably pass, she had ventured deeper into the forest in search of stronger prey. Lesser monsters had fallen effortlessly before her ice—each battle another testament to her supremacy. But her ambition had lured her into danger.

And danger had taken form in a nightmare.

A scorpion-like beast loomed before her, a towering monstrosity with a metallic exoskeleton that gleamed like iron under the fractured light of the canopy. Its twin stingers dripped with venom, sizzling as the acid hissed against the ground. Ten soulless black eyes locked onto her, piercing through her very being.

Her initial confidence evaporated the moment she struck its armor. Her ice, once invincible, shattered harmlessly against its shell. The creature retaliated with blinding speed, its razor-sharp pincers slicing through the air as she dodged frantically.

Clang!

Another attack missed her by inches, but the force sent her sprawling. She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. Her mana reserves were dwindling, and the poison seeping through her veins dulled her senses. Her bloodline ability—a last resort—would only accelerate her mana exhaustion and hasten the poison’s deadly grip.

"I won’t… lose…" she muttered, her voice cracking.

The beast lunged again, forcing her to leap aside. She stumbled, her back slamming against a boulder. Trapped.

The scorpion’s pincers rose high, poised to strike the final blow. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

A piercing screech shattered the tension. Her eyes snapped open, and to her astonishment, the beast writhed in agony, its movements erratic and desperate.

She didn’t know what had caused the sudden turn of events. A stroke of luck? Divine intervention? It didn’t matter.

Acting on instinct, she raised her trembling hand, summoning a dozen razor-sharp ice spears. The creature’s ten lifeless eyes were now blown wide open, vulnerable.

With a flick of her finger, the spears shot forward, each one piercing through an eye with precision.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The creature let out another ear-splitting screech, its agony palpable yet its resilience unwavering. It wasn’t going down without a fight.

"Not even that?" she muttered under her breath, dragging herself backward until her spine pressed against the cold, unyielding wall.

But before she could muster another thought, a sudden attack pierced the creature’s skull with unerring precision.

Thud!

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The beast collapsed, its massive frame hitting the ground with finality.

Her mind reeled. What?! That single thought echoed as she stared at the lifeless creature. What could have delivered such a blow?

She struggled to turn, her body betraying her in its weakened state.

Unbeknownst to her, Mason was sprinting toward her, his body drenched in sweat as though he had just stepped out of a torrential downpour. His breath came in ragged gasps, his legs barely carrying him forward.

The battle with the green-eyed monster, Ferlen, had drained him to his limits. Ferlen had proven far more formidable than Mason had anticipated—a bitter truth he hated to admit. But there was no time to dwell on his exhaustion or bruised pride.

This moment was crucial.

He remembered it clearly from his fragmented memories—the classic scene of saving the damsel in distress. If he could pull it off, all his pain and suffering would finally feel worth it.

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he neared her, envisioning the look on Lyla’s face when she saw her savior.

But then, a sound sliced through the air—a sharp, deadly whistle.

Whoosh!

Instinct screamed at him to turn, but he was too slow. The icy lance struck him squarely, robbing him of sight and life in an instant.

Silence enveloped the battlefield.

He was dead.

+2000 points.

Amael stood in the shadows, watching as Mason’s figure crumpled to the ground, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"At least the fool had some points to spare," Amael mused, his eyes narrowing as he studied the fading form of the man he didn’t quite recognize but felt he should have.

His gaze shifted, locking onto a familiar figure near a jagged boulder in the distance. He stepped forward, his voice soft yet firm.

"Lyla?"

At that moment, she turned to him, her eyes widening in recognition.

However—

"Kya!"

An icy blade tore through her chest before she could utter a word. Her body went limp, collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

+8000 points.

Amael’s Meta Watch pinged softly, confirming the kill.

"That should do it," he muttered, glancing around the battlefield for a place to rest. His eyes lingered on the vanishing fallen bodies for a moment before he turned away, his expression unreadable.