Summoned a Hero But Got a Villain Instead

The four of them stared at him. Their faces mixed shocked pain with dawning, furious disbelief.

The leader—a boy with the arrogant, well-fed face of a minor noble—clutched the bleeding puncture wound on his cheek. His eyes blazed with rage.

"You... you used magic!" he spat. His voice was venomous. Full of hate. "On another student! Do you have any idea what the consequences are for that?"

"You're done! You'll be expelled before the sun rises!"

Dante smiled beneath his mask.

'Expelled?' he thought. A wave of profound, ironic amusement washed over him. 'Wow. I haven't even officially enrolled yet, and I'm already getting expelled. A new record.'

Another one of them—a broad-shouldered brute—took a menacing step forward. His fists clenched. Ready to fight.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled. "And why are you protecting this worthless bastard?"

"Do you know who we are? Our families could buy this entire academy and turn it into a hunting ground if we wanted."

"I'm just a concerned citizen," Dante said. His voice was low. Calm. Utterly at odds with the violence of his first attack.

"And as for who you are... you look like a group of spoiled, arrogant children who have mistaken their parents' money for their own strength."

He paused.

"It's a common, and rather pathetic, mistake."

The leader's face turned a deep, furious red.

"You're dead," he snarled. "I don't care about the rules anymore. We're going to beat you to a bloody pulp and leave your corpse in this alley for the cleaners to find."

They charged.

It was a clumsy, artless assault. Fueled by pure rage. No technique. No strategy.

The leader came first. His hands glowed with faint, fiery light. A low-tier fire mage.

The two brutes on his flanks were Aura users. Their fists wrapped in thin, shimmering energy.

The fourth—a thin, weaselly-looking boy—hung back. A nervous look on his face. Smart enough to be scared.

Dante didn't move.

He simply raised his left hand. The Ring of the Maelstrom cool against his skin.

The fight with the bullies in the orphanage. The battle against Derek's team. The war with the dragons. All of it had been a struggle. A desperate climb.

This... this was a game.

And he was in the mood to play.

As the leader thrust his flaming hands toward him, Dante simply made a fist.

The moisture in the air in front of him gathered instantly. Forming a solid, perfectly clear wall of water. As thick and hard as glass.

Hiiisssss!

The fire-fists slammed into it with a loud hiss. The flames instantly extinguished. Steam billowed around the leader.

He stared in shock at the impossible liquid shield.

While he was distracted, Dante turned his attention to the two charging brutes.

He flicked his wrist.

Two long, thin whips of water erupted from the wall. Moving with the speed and precision of striking snakes.

They wrapped around the brutes' ankles. With a simple, casual tug, he pulled their feet out from under them.

They crashed to the ground with surprised, painful grunts.

He let the water wall dissolve. The leader, his primary attack a failure, was left exposed.

Dante sent another water whip lashing out. Not at him. At the sword sheathed at his hip.

The whip coiled around the hilt. With a sharp yank, he pulled the weapon from its scabbard and sent it clattering across the courtyard.

Clang!

Disarmed. His friends on the ground. The entire fight had lasted less than five seconds.

The weaselly boy at the back saw the tide of battle turn completely against them. He made the smart choice.

He turned to run.

"Ah, ah, ah," Dante tutted. Shaking his head.

He pointed a finger at the ground in front of the fleeing boy.

A small puddle of water that had dripped from his earlier constructs instantly flash-froze. Creating a patch of black, treacherous ice.

The boy didn't see it.

His foot hit the ice. His legs went flying. His body slammed hard onto the unforgiving flagstones.

Dante now had all four of them. Neutralized and humiliated. Without taking a single step.

The two brutes scrambled back to their feet. Their faces showed furious disbelief.

They charged again. Their auras flaring brighter.

This time, he didn't bother with whips.

He simply raised his hand. A sphere of water, as large as a cannonball, materialized in the air before him.

He compressed it. The water turned deep, dark blue. Its density increasing until it was as hard as solid iron.

With a simple pushing motion, he sent it flying.

THUD.

It struck the first brute in the chest.

The impact wasn't a wet splash. It was a deep, resonant sound. Like a sledgehammer hitting a side of beef.

The air was driven from his lungs in a pained whoosh. He was sent flying backward. Crashed into the far wall and slumped to the ground. Unconscious.

The second brute skidded to a halt. His eyes went wide with terror. He looked at his fallen comrade, then back at Dante.

Just standing there. Hand outstretched. Another sphere of dark, dense water already forming at his side.

He dropped his weapons immediately.

"I... I surrender," he stammered.

Dante let the water sphere dissolve.

He walked toward the three conscious bullies.

He pointed to the one who'd surrendered and the weaselly one still on the ground.

"You two," he said. "Take out your phones. Transfer all of your monthly credits to him."

He gestured to the bullied boy. Who was watching with pure, uncomprehending awe.

They scrambled to obey. Their hands trembling.

Then Dante turned his attention to the leader. Now on his knees. His face pale with fear mixed with rage.

He crouched down in front of him.

"You, on the other hand," he said. His voice was quiet. A simple command. "Will give me your phone."

The leader just stared at him. His jaw clenched in defiant fury.

Dante sighed.

He formed a tiny, needle-thin spike of ice on the tip of his finger. Gently pressed it against the boy's cheek.

"Don't make me ask again."

The boy flinched. A whimper escaped his lips.

With trembling hands, he handed over his sleek, silver phone.

"The credits are on there," Dante said. More a statement than a question.

The boy nodded sullenly.

"Good. I'll leave your phone here at the end of the day. You can come pick it up then."

The unspoken threat was clear. He would drain every last credit from it and leave him with a useless piece of metal.

The leader told him the password. His voice was a low, resentful mumble.

Dante took the sleek silver device. It was a beautiful piece of technology.

And he had absolutely no idea how to use it.

He turned to the bullied boy. Now on his feet. His face was a mess of bruises but his eyes shone with hero-worshipping light.

"You," he said, holding up the phone. "How does this work?"

The boy looked at him. Pure confusion on his face.

Dante sighed internally. The mask. He had to maintain the act.

"I have... temporary memory loss," he said. His voice was low. Slightly embarrassed. "I was researching a new spell, and it... backfired. My memories of some simple everyday things are a little... fuzzy."

The boy's confused expression immediately melted. Profound sympathy. Even greater awe.

Of course! This mysterious, powerful mage wasn't asking a stupid question. He was a brilliant, dedicated researcher who'd suffered for his art!

"Oh, of course!" he said. His voice was full of earnest desire to help.

He quickly and efficiently showed Dante the basic functions. How to access the network. How to use the credit system. How to open the communication apps.

It was an intuitive, elegant interface. Dante had it mastered in seconds.

He was about to leave. His work here done.

But the boy's voice stopped him.

"Wait!" he called out. "I... I don't even know your name."

Dante turned. His masked face tilted in the dim light of the courtyard.

"Batman," he said.

The boy blinked. "What?"

"If you don't want to tell me your name," he said. A new, determined light in his eyes. "At least... at least let me see your face. I want to thank you properly someday. In the academy. I want to be your friend."

Dante looked at him. At his bruised face. At his shining, hopeful eyes.

And the ghost of the boy he'd once been—the boy who'd been in this exact same position—felt a strange, unwelcome flicker of something. Not quite pity. Not quite contempt either.

"Friendship is a liability," he said. His voice was cold. Hard. Shattering the warm, hopeful atmosphere.

"You think I saved you? I didn't. I just delayed your next beating."

"You are weak. And in this world, the weak are prey. That is the only rule."

The boy flinched. The hopeful light in his eyes died.

"You want to thank me?" Dante continued. His voice was a low, merciless whisper.

"Then stop being a victim. You think they're strong because they're nobles? Because they have money?"

"You're wrong. They're strong because they're willing to be cruel. They're predators. And there are only two ways to deal with a predator."

He took a step closer. His masked face just inches from the boy's.

"You either become a better predator... or you learn how to be a more venomous snake."

He let the words hang in the air. A final, brutal lesson.

Then he turned and walked away. Melting back into the shadows of the alley.

Leaving the boy alone in the courtyard. With three conscious and one unconscious bully. A fortune in stolen credits. And a piece of advice that would either save his life or utterly destroy him.

As Dante stepped out of the alley and back onto the moonlit streets of the city, a strange, prickling sensation ran down the back of his neck.

It was a feeling he hadn't had since the trial.

The feeling of being watched.

He casually glanced around. His eyes scanned the rooftops. The shadowed doorways.

He saw nothing. No one.

But the feeling remained.

A single, focused, utterly unseen gaze. Following him through the darkness.

His perfect, anonymous debut as a side character... might not have been so perfect after all.