The Villain’s POV in the Academy

Chapter 40

Before the next episode began.

The most urgent task was, without question, to resolve the issue of the module lodged in Iri’s socket.

Through the recent Titans incident, I had addressed Iri’s mental state to some degree, but her physical problem still remained unsolved.

Riding in the flying passenger car Maria was driving, we headed straight to Sector E. The destination was none other than Miyu’s laboratory.

“Wait in the car until I return.”

“Understood.”

Leaving Maria outside, I opened the entrance disguised as a vending machine. I went down the stairs, passed through the hallway, and headed for the workshop.

Only then did the small girl, having belatedly sensed my presence, greet me with her mechanical tail swaying.

It was Miyu.

“Ah, Aaron!”

“How is Iri’s condition?”

I went straight to the point. This wasn’t a situation where we could waste time on pleasantries just because it had been a while.

At my question, Miyu’s expression stiffened. Without a word, she turned her head toward the surgical chair.

Iri was lying there.

She was asleep, with various electrodes attached to her body, while the monitors surrounding her repeatedly displayed and erased lines of text at high speed.

“I-I’ve done everything I can…”

“So you’ve prepared everything. I see.”

“D-Did you bring it?”

“Yes.”

I nodded and immediately pulled the prepared items from my coat — two Module Compatibility Increase Tickets and a note with the malware removal code written on it.

“Y-You actually found them?!”

“Yes.”

I nodded again.

It was best not to mention that I had secured them long ago. Publicly, I was someone who had returned late due to unavoidable circumstances to clean up the situation.

That was also why I had handed down punishments to Leon Albert’s group, the ringleaders of this incident.

In truth, given the severity of their actions, even expulsion could have been considered. But Leon still needed to keep playing the role of a disposable villain in the future.

‘More than anything, he’s perfect for manipulating Benedict.’

I hadn’t dug too deep, but I was certain Benedict was behind Leon’s group.

Which meant this was a test.

I acted as though I “knew nothing” about the truth of this case. Depending on that, Benedict’s next move would fall into one of two categories.

‘Either he becomes more wary of me, or he underestimates me.’

If it was the former, I could simply leave him alone. If it was the latter, he would stir up even bigger trouble, doing something reckless to take my position and lure Miyu under his command.

‘That’s when the opportunity comes.’

That would be the perfect time to strike back.

If I could just catch him red-handed, I could put an end to the current vague standoff and secure the upper hand.

‘When that time comes… what will Maria do? Will she be firmly on my side, or will she betray me?’

I couldn’t help but look forward to the scene. It promised to be entertaining.

Anyway.

The important thing now was that I had all the cards needed to save Iri.

Upon checking what I had brought, Miyu spoke quietly, as though relieved.

“Ah… N-Now it’ll be fine… With this, definitely…”

Then Miyu took something out.

It was a module without a corporate logo — apparently something she had made herself.

“What’s that?”

“A Lv.3 Cellular Regeneration Enhancement Module… It’s not essential, but it’ll help Iri endure the surgery…”

After saying that, Miyu typed something into the computer connected to Iri, then inserted the homemade module into her socket.

She made a few more adjustments, then let out a relieved sigh, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Good… The removal code’s been entered… Now all that’s left is…”

When Miyu operated the keyboard again, Iri awoke from her sleep. Judging by her expression, her condition was far from good — she looked exhausted.

Miyu handed her the two Module Compatibility Increase Tickets and said,

“P-Please tear these, Iri!”

“…”

Though she must have been curious, Iri silently accepted the tickets. She probably didn’t even have the strength to ask why.

With trembling hands, she struggled to tear them, and the torn pieces scattered into the air before disappearing.

Soon, Iri fell asleep again, and Miyu let out a cheer as she looked at the monitor.

“I-It worked! Really!”

“A success?”

“Yes. Just as expected, with the modules’ compatibility improved, multiple stats have entered the stable range.”

As I thought — the one to use the tickets didn’t have to be the one who purchased them. I had spent 600 Achievement Points, but I had gained useful information. And Iri’s survival odds had risen.

“Now we can start the removal procedure without worry!”

“…”

Miyu looked overjoyed.

But I couldn’t bring myself to be happy with them.

This was certainly the better path, but the fact remained that she had suffered because of me.

“…I’ll wait outside.”

“Yes, I’ll start right away!”

I stepped out of Miyu’s workshop.

Leaning against the wall, I could hear assorted noises coming from inside — the hum of motors, the crackle of electricity, the clacking of a keyboard.

I wasn’t sure how long I waited in my restless state.

Before long, Miyu called out from inside, saying I could come in.

When I reentered the workshop, Iri was sitting up on her own. On a tray to the side of the workbench sat the removed, bloodstained, corroded module.

“Do you feel any discomfort?”

“Yeah. I think I’m fine. It feels like I just woke up from a deep sleep.”

“That’s a relief. But don’t stand up yet. I’m going to run a program update and install a basic Anti-Wizard app so something like this won’t happen again…”

While Miyu continued with her technical explanation, Iri clenched and unclenched her hands, testing her condition.

Then, belatedly meeting my gaze, she turned her eyes about 45 degrees away without a word. Her cheeks were faintly flushed.

Seeing that curt, yet slightly more subdued expression was the first moment I truly felt at ease.

“I’m glad you look unharmed.”

“Huh? Ah… Yes… Thanks to you…”

Iri couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

I could guess the reason and smiled inwardly, though to anyone else it might have looked a bit rude.

Unable to watch any longer, Miyu carefully pointed it out for her instead.

“Ah, Iri… Even so, if Aaron hadn’t been here, it could’ve been serious, so that kind of attitude is—”

“B-Be quiet! I know already!”

“Eek! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

At Iri’s sudden outburst, Miyu shrank back in fright, curling up again.

Realizing her mistake, Iri hurried to comfort her.

A lifetime of ingrained roughness wouldn’t be fixed in a single day.

Ahem.

Just as their little comedy dragged on, I cut in with a clearing of my throat. Sure, watching was amusing, but unfortunately, I didn’t have that kind of time to spare.

“Iri Elisbell.”

“Ah, yes!”

At my call, Iri instantly stiffened and stood at attention. The hostility in her eyes from our first meeting had now completely vanished.

“I have something to give you.”

“What is it?”

Without a word, I unlatched a module from the socket at the back of my neck and held it in my hand. An information window popped up in the center of my vision.

[Module Removed]

[Arcane Module] Lv.4 Thousand Pound Weight

I held it out to her.

“Use this from now on.”

“Huh? All of a sudden?”

You could call it sudden… but this had been my plan all along. In the original work, the Thousand Pound Weight had belonged to Iri.

I had only used it temporarily to make up for the stats I’d lost while curing her illness.

Now that I could restore all my original modules, I no longer needed it. In truth, it didn’t synergize particularly well with my main weapon, [Cloud Spider].

I gave Iri a brief explanation of its functions and usage, then added,

“It’s something you can use effectively with your combat style. From the start, it’s a highly compatible module for anyone, so you should be able to use it immediately.”

“I-Is that so?”

She tilted her head, as if not quite understanding.

“But from your explanation, it sounds like it’s specialized for withstanding impact, and I…”

“Ah, that’s right.”

It had been so obvious to me that I’d almost glossed over it. I’d been so focused on the recent Titans incident that I’d slightly lost track of timing.

“From now on, I’ll personally guide the direction of your growth. You won’t have any objections to that.”

“I don’t mind, but… how exactly?”

“I’ll change your modules and the gear you use. We’ll also have to adjust your basic combat style.”

“Even my combat style?”

Of course.

In the original work, Iri’s title was none other than “War Chariot.” Her current evasive damage-dealer position was a waste of her potential.

“Your current fighting style assumes solo play. It might be useful for surviving alone, but it doesn’t help with team coordination.”

“…So what exactly are you planning?”

Iri frowned, but didn’t raise her voice.

A week ago, she’d have snapped back with, ‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’

The fact that she was asking instead meant she was ready to accept my advice. I’d say the rapport-building had gone quite well.

Seeing her pout made a strange urge to tease her rise in me.

Then, a line I’d always wanted to say suddenly came to mind, and I composed my voice to deliver it seriously.

“Iri.”

“Yes?”

“You suit a shield more than a gun.”

It was essentially a sudden shift from an evasive damage-dealer role to that of a tank.

It could have felt like an unreasonable demand, yet Iri seemed to have decided to accept my advice without protest.

I requested that Miyu craft a shield suitable for Iri. We agreed to discuss the specifics after the shield was completed.

With that matter settled, I showed her the tickets I’d purchased this time and asked for a new module setup.

The world’s top Modular advised that there was no need to use all the tickets.

“Y-You see… many of the modules you’ve been using eat up far too much replacement rate compared to their output level…”

Rather than spending valuable tickets on modules with middling performance, Miyu suggested that it would be better to scrap a few underperforming standard modules and create new ones.

“Your original module setup seems to have been adjusted to accommodate two Lv.5 Arcane Modules, at the cost of other modules’ performance…”

“I see.”

To a genius like her, even the module combination put together by the Stingray Group’s top engineers must have looked clumsy.

“If you really want to bring out the best performance, it’d be better to start with [Cloud Spider] and adapt to the high-output modules one at a time…”

She added that installing multiple modules all at once was practically suicide, and recommended using tickets on three specific modules.

[Arcane Module] Lv.5 Techblade

[Standard Module] Lv.5 Mental Controller

[Standard Module] Lv.4 Weapon Recognizer

The Mental Controller prevented mental abnormalities caused by [Arcane]’s magic power.

The Weapon Recognizer allowed its user to grasp the basic techniques of all weapons.

Though both were standard modules, being Lv.4 and Lv.5 respectively, their performance was second to none.

And most of all — Techblade.

A Lv.5 Arcane Module classified as a “Game Changer,” like [Cloud Spider].

In the original work, it had briefly appeared as Aaron’s secondary weapon — a sword that, in plainer words, was an “absurdly broken” weapon.

“They said it perfectly replicated an ultrahigh-frequency monoblade, something nearly impossible to achieve even with the current technology of this world.”

A monoblade.

That meant its blade was made of a single molecule — theoretically the sharpest substance in existence.

On top of that, it vibrated hundreds of thousands of times per second, pushing its already phenomenal cutting power to the extreme.

It was no exaggeration to say there was nothing this sword couldn’t cut. Even the Titan’s hide, which [Cloud Spider] couldn’t sever in one stroke, would likely slice like tofu with this weapon.

Above all, its “hidden form” was a Game Changer on par with [Cloud Spider] itself.

Just installing these two modules would practically return me to the position of the city’s strongest.

The problem was…

“As I mentioned earlier, the [Techblade] module puts much more strain on your body than [Cloud Spider]…”

It was a module that had shown particularly poor compatibility during the process of curing my terminal illness. To use it properly, Miyu said, it would be safer to invest multiple tickets.

So I asked,

“Even with the [Corpse Eater] module, does it still require that many tickets?”

“That module is the only reason the consumption rate’s even this low… If you think about the performance of your original modules…”

Well, my original specs were indeed abnormal, stacked high with Lv.4 and Lv.5 modules.

Considering this was only the end of Part 1, Act 1, trying to instantly restore those overpowered specs would be nothing short of shameless.

“Understood.”

If the genius Modular herself said this was the best way for me to grow stronger, I had no reason to refuse.

I immediately invested four tickets into [Lv.5 Techblade], and two each into [Weapon Recognizer] and [Mental Controller].

The remaining tickets were distributed one apiece to my existing modules to slightly raise their compatibility.

As a result:

【Arcane】

[Cloud Spider Lv.5] – Inactive

[Corpse Eater Lv.5] – Active

[Mimic Lv.2] – Inactive

[Techblade Lv.5] – Inactive

【Standard】

[Strength Lv.3] – Active

[Haste Lv.5] – Active

[Hawkeye Lv.5] – Active

[Cell Regenerator Lv.2] – Active

[Neural Booster Lv.3] – Active

[Poison Immunity Lv.4] – Active

[Trauma Scanner Lv.3] – Active

[Tungsten Skin Lv.4] – Active

[Weapon Recognizer Lv.4] – Active

[Mental Controller Lv.5] – Active

Overload Rate: 67% (Caution)

Replacement Rate: 51%

Upon reviewing the module setup report, Miyu scratched her head.

“Your replacement rate and overload rate shot up… This [Mimic] Arcane Module is the main cause, so if you don’t need it right away, you might want to remove it…”

“That’s nothing to worry about.”

I was planning to seal it away for a while after today anyway.

At least until I reeled in that Ciel brat one last time.