I Enrolled as the Villain

As I finished the last bite, the noise in the hall faded. One by one, spoons were set down, even from those who hadn't finished.

"You can keep eating," I said, louder than necessary. Still, the quiet lingered.

I stood, pushed my chair back, and left the dining hall, the quiet murmur of lingering conversations fading behind me.

My footsteps echoed down the steel-lined corridor, each one pulling me further from idle talk and closer to the weight of the day ahead.

The command room greeted me with its familiar dim light, the wide map spread across the central table like an unspoken challenge.

Blue Star to the west. Valkcross to the north. Commoner Union far to the north east too far to be here without a deal. Selene's fingerprints were all over that move.

I drew in a slow breath. This plan might be the last calm step before everything went to hell.

The map was pristine, no scribbles, no arrows, just raw territory and distance.

Footsteps cut through the quiet. I looked up to find Silas approaching, posture straight as a drawn blade. He stopped at the table and pressed a fist to his chest.

"Greetings, Leader."

"Greetings. What is it, Silas?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.

"I have a strategy to deal with the three factions."

I gestured for him to continue.

"I do." Silas stood with his hands clasped behind him, voice clipped. "Three enemies. Closest is Blue Star, west side. They've been pressing harder than the rest. I say we hit them first—fast, before they rally."

"That puts us right in their stronghold," I said.

"Exactly," he replied. "One squad—yours—pushes through their front. Keep them pinned. If it's a trap, we adapt, but either way, they're stuck dealing with you."

I glanced at the map's northwest edge. Aurelia was there, waiting like a drawn blade.

Silas went on, "The rest stay here. Marlen and the others guard the banner. If anyone makes a move on it, they'll have the numbers to intercept."

I nodded slowly. Selene's forces were closer to the west too close to ignore us. She wouldn't waste time sitting back. If anything, she was already preparing her next move.

And teaming up with Aurelia? No. Those two would rather cut each other's throats than share a win.

And Silas wasn't wrong about Blue Star.

Taking out the original winners would be the biggest crack I could make in the old timeline. A step off the path I already knew too well.

My gaze drifted to the ruined, blackened syncwatch sitting on the edge of the table.

Plus…they already made their move.

But still the ground changes once the first strike lands.

"Alright," I said. "We'll move on Blue Star. You brief the others. I'll take the first wave."

Silas gave a sharp nod. "Understood, Leader."

As Silas finished outlining his thoughts on strategy, I tapped my syncwatch, sending out a quick message to all Valery students:

Briefing in the command room. Ten minutes. Don't be late.

The watch gave a soft ping of confirmation. Around the room, I could already see heads turn as students checked their own devices.

The faint beep of the command table's timer kept ticking in the background counting down from ten minutes now. Students filtered back from breakfast, their voices low, footsteps echoing on the polished floor.

Silas sat beside me, perfectly straight, his uniform without a single crease…

His uniform was spotless no creases, no loose threads and the light from above caught on his shaved head, giving it a faint, disciplined sheen.

"So, Silas," I said, leaning back a little, "putting strategy aside… what do you usually do?"

One of his eyebrows twitched barely but he answered without hesitation.

"I train. I keep a strict workout schedule. And when I'm not doing that, I read. Mostly philosophy. My father's influence."

"Your father?"

"Matthias."

I paused. General Matthias… one of the elders.

"I see," I said, watching him. "How does it feel growing up as the son of a general?"

Silas's gaze stayed forward. "Everyone expects perfection. Greatness. No one wants to see a general's son turn out incompetent."

"After all… the father is like the son, right?"

"There's truth in that," he replied evenly.

"But," I leaned in slightly, "your father made mistakes before becoming a general, didn't he?"

That got him to glance at me just for a moment like I'd touched a subject most people avoided.

"You know," I said quietly, "before my older sister became the leader of Valery before she was the most powerful woman in the house she made a lot of mistakes."

My eyes caught my own reflection in the surface of the soda can. "She's always been too hard on herself. And sometimes… she couldn't control herself."

"When we were young, she'd barge into my room to force me to read whatever book she was obsessed with. Or she'd break things—just to get our parents' attention."

I gave a faint, humorless smile. "She made mistakes. I've made mistakes too, Silas."

I looked up at him. "Maybe society's the problem, no?"

Silas's gaze didn't waver. "Society is just the battlefield," he said flatly. "It doesn't care who you are. The only thing that matters is whether you adapt or you will fall. That's in every war manual worth reading."

Silas's answer carried the weight of someone raised under unyielding expectations. A child forged to stand straight, speak clean, and never let a seam show.

My gaze drifted down to the folder tucked beneath the table. A field report of Cendric and Silas's entire escape from the Red Line.

The official account read like a different story. There was grit, risk, and moments where protocol fell away.

Cendric… he'd been a great friend to Silas in that hell.

I leaned back slightly, the thought settling in. He's probably this formal with me because I'm the leader. Maybe hierarchy is the only way he knows how to make sense of the world.

As the thought settled, I glanced back at Silas.

"So, how's the academy? Is it much different from Valery?"

He took a moment, eyes drifting over the command room as if searching for the right words.

"It's very different," he said at last. "Here, people are more competitive. The political games start as early as the teenage years… which is hard to imagine where I'm from."

That made sense. His academy was deep inside the Valery compound only Valery blood attended. Politics there were almost nonexistent. We were all the same, or at least told we were.

"Here," Silas continued, "people are more diverse. More… unpredictable. That makes it harder to excel."

"make sense," I said. "So… how is Kael Valery Ultimate Academy?" I forced myself to say the ridiculous name. One day, I swear, I'll change it.

"It's a great academy," Silas said without irony. "Initially, I was planning to attend KVE Academy, but my father recommended I go there instead—to show support."

For some reason, that made my chest tighten. I wasn't sure if it was pride, guilt, or both. Probably both.

"Smart," I muttered.

"The instructors there—some are graduates from KVE Academy. It's good for knowledge sharing."

I nodded. "Makes sense."

Silas's tone softened, almost amused. "The students sometimes hold a vote for which Eyes have the coolest design."

Oh. Teenagers will be teenagers, no matter how serious the academy.

"Who won?"

"Third place was Cendric's Korigan. Second place went to Rank 1 also a Korigan user."

"And first?"

Silas didn't hesitate. "Yours."

Of course it was.

"I didn't even attend that school," I said.

"You didn't," Silas agreed, "but you're the founder of the academy."

The timer hit five minutes, the low hum of the command table growing louder as the room filled.

As the message pinged out, I leaned back in my chair, letting my gaze drop to Silas's perfectly polished boots.

"Do you ever… do anything sloppy?"

His head tilted slightly. "Sloppy?"

"Yeah. Like… eat with your hands, miss a workout, wear a shirt with wrinkles, forget to polish your boots?"

Silas looked almost offended. "No."

I squinted. "Not even once?"

"No. My father says a soldier's habits in peace reflect his survival in war."

I frowned. Strange. The report said he was Rank 20 in his class, while Cendric sat at Rank 2. How does someone like him so disciplined, so precise end up that low?

"Not to mock you," I said slowly, "but why are you Rank 20? Someone like you with your strength, your discipline—you should be at least Rank 5 or above."

Silas didn't even blink. "My father intervened personally in the ranking. Lowered me to the bottom of the advanced class."

"Why?"

"To teach me humility."

To teach him humility? No, there's more to it than teaching humility. A Valery elder wouldn't waste their precious time or tarnish their name over something as trivial as an academy ranking.

This smells like a political maneuver by Matthias a general who can play chess just as well as he wields a sword.

If that's the case, then what for? So Silas can participate in Strongholds? No… that doesn't make sense. He wouldn't expect Lucia to remove half the students.

Then… hm. Maybe he's trying to keep Silas out of the spotlight and let Cendric take all the attention. Or perhaps he doesn't want Silas to grow complacent.