Awakening: Starting With The Villain System

The timer started. But I didn't move. Not yet.

Everyone probably expected me to dash forward like the rest of the students, swinging wildly and hoping to look good.

But I couldn't afford to be like everyone else. Yara's words still echoed in my head like poison.

If you can't impress him… I'll make sure you get expelled.

It wasn't just the challenge. It was the threat, and the way she smiled when she said it, as if she already knew I'd fail. I couldn't allow her to be right.

So instead of rushing, I stood still. My hand rested on the sheath at my hip, thumb pressing against the guard, ready.

My other hand hung loosely at my side, though I could feel the tension all the way up to my shoulder.

The robot dummies clanked and shifted, mechanical joints whining as five of them rushed at me, weapons raised.

I breathed out slowly.

My plan was simple, I wouldn't fight like them. I wouldn't hack mindlessly or flail until I got tired.

No, I would perform clean sequences, one after the other, each strike a statement. I wasn't here to win a rank. I was here to leave a mark.

And if I failed?

Yara's grin flashed across my mind.

No, failure wasn't an option.

The first five dummies closed in, shadows stretching under the lights. Their weapons whistled through the air, aimed straight for me.

My eyes snapped open. My left hand clamped down on the sheath. My right hand tightened around the katana's hilt until my knuckles turned white. Then, in one breath, I drew. Steel sang.

Slash!

In a single arc, the blade carved the air, and the heads of all five dummies dropped at once, sparking as they clattered against the floor. The rest of their bodies collapsed like puppets with their strings cut.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

I didn't pause. My legs moved on their own, carrying me with a speed I didn't know I had.

One of the archer units raised its bow, but it never got the chance to fire.

I slashed across its chest, pivoted, and in the same motion thrust the blade backward, impaling another dummy that had crept up behind me.

The sword twisted in my grip. My movements flowed like water, slash, turn, stab, slash again. Sparks and fragments flew with every strike.

A heavy thud shook the ground as a hammer-wielding dummy charged. Its massive weapon swung down like a guillotine.

I spun, lifted my leg, and kicked with every ounce of strength I could muster.

Bang!

The impact thundered through my body. The dummy launched backward as if it weighed nothing, crashing into a cluster of its allies. They collapsed in a heap of broken metal, explosions of dust filling the air.

Still mid-spin, I didn't let the momentum die. My blade flashed again, severing the arm of another dummy before it could bring down its axe.

The weapon clattered uselessly to the ground. With a sharp exhale, I drove my katana into its chest, sparks dancing across the blade as the machine shuddered, then went still.

When I landed, the silence that followed was louder than the noise had been.

I stood among the broken dummies, chest rising and falling. My grip tightened on the hilt, the adrenaline refusing to let go.

"It looks like it paid off perfectly," I muttered under my breath, lips tugging into a faint smirk.

My eyes flicked toward Gari's direction.

The instructor's face was as unreadable as ever, stoic, cold, like he was carved from stone, but I noticed something subtle. His gaze was concentrated on me.

He wasn't impressed, no, not outwardly. Gari didn't seem like the type of man who would hand out easy praise.

But the fact that he was paying attention at all… that alone was a small victory. He had ignored most of the students entirely. Watched them with his usual bored expression.

So if he was watching, then it meant something. He must've noticed my combat capability.

A bitter chuckle almost slipped out. Combat capability. That sounded so official, so clinical. The truth was simpler, I learned from the best.

In the four short days leading up to this exam, I hadn't wasted my time sleeping, eating, or staring at the ceiling in boredom. I had been training. Obsessively.

Not in the conventional way, though. Tutorials? No thanks. Who in their right mind could sit through hours of old men demonstrating stiff, robotic movements with their katanas? Just swing here, step there. No thrill, no fire.

It was unbearable.

So instead, I went to the one place I knew I could learn, anime.

Yeah, laugh if you want, but it was a goldmine. I watched as many fighting animes as I could find and binged them relentlessly.

Sword fights, martial arts duels, crazy choreographed battles that had no right to look that good.

The kind that made your blood boil with excitement and forced you to leap up, trying to copy the moves in your room.

And I did. I mimicked everything I saw. My form was sloppy at first, but with each try, my body began to respond.

Maybe I didn't have the polish of a real swordsman, but I had raw motion, instinct, and imagination. That was my training ground.

I was still lost in thought when reality snapped back at me, loud, metallic, and terrifying.

A flood of dummies.

Dozens of them were charging, the ground trembling under their synchronized steps, weapons gleaming under the harsh lights.

My stomach twisted.

This wasn't five or six anymore. This was too many.

My katana would cut, sure, but not fast enough. I'd get overwhelmed, hit from the sides or behind.

Even if I won without getting hit, I wouldn't look impressive, I'd look desperate. Messy. And messy wouldn't impress Gari.

My teeth clenched. The panic rose like a tide, pressing hard against my chest.

The obvious move was to keep slashing, but that wasn't enough. Not now. Not with this many.