The Return Of The Exiled Villain-Chapter 33: The Entrance Exam (I)

Phew~

Gloria floated above them like a queen surveying her court of corpses. The smile on her face never faded.

If anything, it grew gentler, which only made it worse.

Her eyes shimmered with cruel delight as the students stared up at her, frozen by fear, awe, or both.

And then... she clapped her hands once.

Clap!

The sound echoed through the air, louder than it should have been. Magic clung to it like thunder trapped in silk.

"Now that the... decorations have been handled," she said, glancing down at the dozens of decapitated bodies without the slightest care, "let’s not waste any more time, shall we?"

She spread her arms wide, her coat fluttering like wings.

"The Entrance Exam of Gloria Academy officially begins~!"

Gasps rippled across the crowd, and a few students instinctively took a step back.

Some tried to look strong, forcing a smirk or gripping their weapons tighter, but their trembling fingers gave them away.

Gloria giggled softly.

"Good luck~"

And then she snapped her fingers.

SNAP!

The world shattered.

ZZRRRMMM!!!

A massive pulse of magic erupted from above, swirling like a typhoon of light and shadow.

One by one, the students vanished in flashes of different colors, blue, red, violet, gold, like splashes of paint thrown into the wind.

Fwoosh!

Crack!

Voom!

Gray didn’t even flinch.

The moment the magic touched him, the space around him warped, and then everything went white.

"Ah..."

[That woman... is really powerful indeed. She’s at least at the level of a low god.]

"WHAT?!"

Gray’s eyes snapped open as soon as he heard Jasmine’s words. He staggered a step forward as vision returned in waves of color.

The ground beneath him was cracked and dusty. The air was dry and sharp, thick with the scent of scorched stone and windblown ash.

A vast wasteland stretched endlessly around him with jagged rocks, distant mountains, black sand, and red skies... like a battlefield that had long forgotten peace.

"...So, this will be my playground, huh?" Gray muttered with a slight smirk, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the hellish landscape around him.

The ground was cracked and uneven, scorched black from long-dried lava flows.

Pools of bubbling magma hissed and spat not far from where he stood, sending waves of hot air rolling through the wasteland.

Sharp rocks jutted out from the ground like broken teeth, scattered chaotically in every direction.

Plenty of places to hide. Plenty of places to kill.

Gray raised his hand and let his black strings slither from his gloves like living shadows.

Fwip!

They whipped gently in the heated air, already sensing the terrain.

"Still... I wanted the forest..." he muttered with a sigh.

Trees would’ve been better.

In forests, the spacing between each trunk was perfect for fast setups, perfect for traps & perfect for high-scale massacres.

But this wasn’t bad either.

Just more bloody work.

[Someone’s approaching you... Early Advanced stage, so be really careful since he can probably one-hit kill you.]

Gray’s smile twisted wider.

"Tsk... figures."

He didn’t wait.

He crouched low and then flicked his fingers.

Fshhh—!

Several threads shot out, latching onto two jagged boulders to his left and right.

He wove them fast, crossing them at throat height, thin enough to be invisible under the shimmer of heatwaves.

Trap one: set.

Then he pulled back, vanishing behind a cracked ridge and dropping low, his heartbeat steady.

Thud...

A footstep.

Thud!

Heavy steps now.

Quick and they were getting closer.

Gray’s eyes narrowed.

A silhouette appeared over the ridge.

Muscular, shirtless, with a massive sword slung across his back. His aura burned like fire, heat rippling around him like a mirage.

"Oi! You there!" the man barked, voice loud and full of arrogance. "Looks like I found an easy warm-up. Lucky me!"

Gray didn’t respond to his words; he simply crouched lower.

The man charged forward, boots pounding over the ground.

And then...

Swsh!

A soft sound... barely noticeable.

Shunk!

The man’s body staggered mid-run, and a thin red line drew itself across his neck.

"Guh...?"

His head slid from his shoulders.

Thud... thud.

First his body, then the head.

Blood sprayed in a high arc, splashing across the rocks and staining the blackened earth crimson.

Gray stood slowly, dusting his gloves off with a cold expression.

"One."

The threads retracted, whirling back into his sleeves with a whisper.

And just a few seconds later, Gray heard more footsteps, extending his strings once again, as he saw the silhouettes approaching him.

There were five of them, and they stood a few meters away, relaxed at first.

They joked, nudged each other, and whispered about how tough it would be to get out alive.

Their voices were low, heavy with nervous laughter.

One of them, a tall guy with a scar across his cheek, squinted and pointed at Gray’s figure standing quietly on the cracked earth.

"Hey... isn’t that the guy? The one who wiped out fifty people by himself?"

"Yeah... it looks like him inded." Another said, eyes wide, suddenly cautious.

Their smiles faded.

The air instantly grew tense as they sheathed their weapons, pointing them at Gray.

Gray slowly turned to face them, expression unreadable.

Then, out of nowhere, he stretched his gloved hands, fingers curling and flicking with casual ease.

"Do you guys like balloons?" he asked with a sly grin.

In an instant, two shiny balloons appeared, hovering just above his palms, gleaming under the red sky.

The group blinked, confusion flashing on their faces.

"Balls of hot air, right? Stupid kid..." one muttered, already gripping his weapon.

Gray’s grin faded a little.

"Oh..." he said, shaking his head slowly.

"That’s unfortunately not all I have."

The group’s hesitation snapped.

Without warning, all five charged.

Fwip!

Sharp, thin threads shot out from Gray’s gloves like black lightning.

They cut through the air with a high-pitched zing, barely visible in the dusty wind.

Snick!

Snick!

Snick!

Each thread sliced clean through the ankles of the charging men, right at the Achilles tendons.

CRACK!

Bones snapped beneath the blade-like strings with sickening sharpness.

A chorus of guttural screams erupted.

"AAARGH!!"

"Fuuuck!"

"Nooo!!"

Their bodies dropped like sacks of meat.

THUD!

The first one of them hit the ground hard, folding in on himself. His foot twisted the wrong way with a nasty crack, his leg bent like a snapped tree branch.

"FUUUUCKKK!"

POP!

The second’s knee bent the wrong direction with a sickening sound.

He screamed so loud it echoed in the air, hands clawing at the ruined joint before he collapsed onto his side.

CRUNCH!

The third’s ankle exploded under the pressure of Gray’s boot. His body flipped mid-fall, landing face-first in the dirt, blood and teeth spilling from his mouth.

The fourth barely had time to turn.

SLASH!

SLASH!

Gray’s rapier tore through both his thighs, clean cuts right above the knee.

Bloodshot out like broken pipes as he dropped, choking on his own breath, trying, and failing, to crawl away.

THUMP.

The fifth one didn’t even scream.

He collapsed with a pitiful groan, hands clutching his shredded calf as blood poured through his fingers. His head was swimming from pain, his body frozen in shock.

A thick, dark pool spread beneath them, blood mixing with dust, bone, and gravel.

Gray walked forward slowly, boots crushing over stone and broken weapons. His blade dripped red.

His face held a faint smile, but his eyes were empty.

Then he spoke.

"So... now... do you guys like balloons?"

All five of them whimpered.

One nodded frantically.

"Yes! I—I love balloons!"

"Me too, man!" another gasped, his voice shaking.

"Big fan! Since I was a kid!"

"I had a balloon at my wedding," a third sobbed, blood oozing from his leg. "Swear to the gods... I still remember the color..."

They were shaking, desperately...

Grasping for anything.

But then, Gray’s smile faded.

His lips dropped, eyes darkening as he tilted his head slightly.

"But... that’s strange."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"You didn’t like them before."

He stood still for a moment.

And then there was complete silence...

POP!

The balloon in his hand burst.

FWIP!

In a flash, heads flew.

One by one, clean cuts.

Bodies slumped where they sat, necks spurting blood, eyes wide with fear they didn’t have time to express.

Gray stood there, surrounded by the dead, red mist still hanging in the air.

His eyes didn’t blink.

"Don’t lie to me again."

[...You’re so fucking scary sometimes. How do you switch from a dead calm scary guy to a bloodthirsty maniac like that?]

Jasmine asked curiously, not even having an ounce of sadism in her voice, although she clearly was a bigger one than Gray.

Gray didn’t answer right away.

He crouched beside the bodies, checking them with steady hands, still warm, but lifeless.

"...I don’t really know," he muttered, flipping over one of the corpses

. "Guess something’s broken in me."

He rifled through their pouches, pockets, and belts... nothing.

"No gold, no potions, not even a half-decent weapon," he scoffed, rising to his feet with a sharp exhale.

"Bastards must’ve been broke as shit."

He turned, brushing the blood off his gloves.

"Whatever. I’ll find more."

But just as he took a step...

[GRAY, HIDE!]

Jasmine shouted, and instantly, Gray hid behind a tree, completely erasing his mana signature.

Jasmine had taught him that during those twenty-five days of training.

[Peak Advanced Stage...]

Jasmine warned him.

’What the fuck...?’ Gray’s brow twitched.

’Who the hell gets that strong at eighteen?’

Carefully, he peeked through the brush...

"Ah..."

And his breath caught in his throat.

She moved with quiet grace, long black hair swaying behind her like a silk ribbon in the wind.

Her eyes were vivid green, focused, ruthless even. Her uniform clung perfectly to her figure: slender waist, full chest, shapely legs that carried strength in every step.

The Academy crest shimmered on her jacket, but that wasn’t what froze him.

On her shoulder... stitched in gold thread...

The D’Aurélion House crest.

His fingers twitched.

That was her.

Maelis... his younger step-sister.

The last time he saw her, she was behind their father... staring at him with that same calm disgust while he was cast out like filth.

Now she was here, radiating power, status, everything he had lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Gray’s lips curved upward.

A faint curl of black smoke whispered from his eyes. His stare darkened, hollowed, and hungry.

"...Finally," he breathed.

The grin twisted, crooked, unstable.

"We meet again..."

He pressed a trembling hand to his face, dragging his palm over his mouth, gripping his jaw as if trying to hold something back.

Emotion? Rage? Madness?

Even he wasn’t sure.

The only thing he was sure about...

Was that he really wanted to kill her.