I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 224: Mana Control Training(3)

Ashok at this point was utterly speechless. Words simply refused to form in his head. To an outsider, it might seem trivial—just a harmless change in staffing, a different teacher presiding over a single course.

What difference could that possibly make? they might ask with a shrug.

But Ashok knew better. He knew too well.

The difference couldn't be measured by something as mild as big. No—this was the sort of change that could twist the threads of the entire plot itself.

And when two main characters were tangled up in it, the scale of consequence grew immeasurable.

The Academy's teachers weren't just instructors; each of them carried unique inheritances—secret skills, specialized arts, or mastery carved out of decades of experience.

To be chosen as a disciple under one of them meant inheriting skills no textbook could provide.

In rare cases, these inheritances did more than simply teach—they could trigger the awakening of Traits when certain conditions were met, handing students power that was nothing short of miraculous.

One such instance had already started related to Instructor Griselda. For the beast men siblings, Zog and Mira, her presence was a gift from the heavens themselves.

By the natural flow of the plot, they were destined to be chosen as her disciples, and her training all but guaranteed that.

More than that, the sister—Mira—had a chance, however slim, to awaken the very same ability that defined Griselda: the Eyes of True Body Potential.

It was no minor skill. Those eyes were as dangerous and valuable as any Special Eyes in the world.

A cheat ability born from Griselda's lifetime of experience, passed on through nothing less than narrative convenience, and designed to make the siblings shine as if the story itself had blessed them.

Not to mention the it was impossible for any other character to acquire the Eye no matter how much they raised affinity points with Griselda.

This was the sort of "change" Ashok now faced.

And Griselda was only one example.

She stood out among the regular teaching staff, her reputation bolstered by her race and her unique ability, which made her somewhat "special" in the the Academy.

Yet even then, it was enough to irritate Ashok to no end.

This—this was the sort of nonsense he hated most about being dragged into this world. The sheer absurdity of it all.

In the game, one of the rarest and most coveted traits—an eye-based ability, no less—could fall into someone's lap not because of sweat, blood, or endless hours of grinding, but simply because they happened to be born into the right race and got tutored under the right teacher.

What kind of twisted gacha mechanic was that?

And if that much power could be passed down casually by a mere instructor—someone not even counted among the true monsters of the Academy—then what about the real terrors?

What about the Three Head Teachers?

That thought alone was enough to dig into Ashok's head like a migraine. He could deal with Griselda's "special eye lottery" nonsense, but Frederick? The old crook?

The idea of Frederick passing down something broken, some utterly game-shattering inheritance, to either Althea or Isolde was enough to make Ashok's stomach twist.

Isolde was troublesome, yes—but Althea? Althea was the real threat.

She was the very definition of a prodigy, the kind of Talent that every Mage in the World would dream of having to themselves.

Putting her natural growth curve aside.

Add Frederick's meddling into that equation, together with the upcoming Ranking Tournament, she might even surpass Leon breaking into the Rank One position.

And as if fate wasn't cruel enough, Althea was already starting to drift closer to Leon.

The telltale signs of infatuation, of story-driven attachment tightening its grip around her was pretty obvious.

If Frederick now threw fuel into that fire by turning her into a magic juggernaut this early in the game, then the future of Leon's "party" would be warped beyond repair.

Though Ashok could already picture the worst possible scenarios in his head, there was still a thin thread of hope dangling before him—because this was no longer a game, this was real life.

Back in the game, it was him behind the screen pulling every string, deciding every move of the so-called main characters.

Their brilliance, their victories, their shining "protagonist moments" were only as good as his own performance on the keyboard.

But now? Things were different.

These main characters were no longer scripted characters to follow his commands; they were living, breathing individuals with their own quirks.

That unpredictability left space—small, but real—for failure. There was always the chance that they might stumble, that they might not live up to the near-perfect legends he remembered from the game.

'Let's just hope the worst doesn't happen,' Ashok thought, though his lack of confidence in his luck remained.

His doubts only deepened when Frederick's gaze began its slow, sweeping crawl across the room. One by one, the old man's eyes lingered on the students, studying them.

And then—those wrinkled eyes landed on him.

And then it Ashok was 100% sure that this Old Crook just gave a smug grin before turning his face away in moments.

Ashok clenched his jaw. 'Now what in the hell is this old bastard planning?'

SIGH—

Frederick broke the moment with a long, dramatic exhale, his shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated heaviness. His voice followed, filled with theatrical disappointment.

"Out of a total of one hundred, where at least half of you should have been mages… only five bothered to choose this class. And somehow, the numbers have dropped even further since last time."

SLAM!

The sharp crack of Frederick's palm slamming down on the wooden hand rest echoed through the small classroom.

The cushions on the floor vibrated slightly from the sudden force, and every student in the room flinched, their shoulders jerking as if struck.

"Because of such pitifully low numbers," Frederick's voice rolled out, rough but deliberate, "there is no point in teaching you the way I normally would. So…"

He paused, letting his lips curl into a smile that carried no warmth, "…let's start with a surprise verbal test." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

The word test immediately tightened the air. The small group of students shifted uncomfortably on their cushions, the tension crawling up their spines.

That smile on Frederick's wrinkled face was worse than any frown—it hinted at something planned, something cunning. A bad premonition settled in their minds.

Before Frederick could even continue, Isolde's hand shot up like an arrow loosed from a bow. She straightened her back, determined to question this nonsense before it got any further.

"Rejected," Frederick said flatly, without a glance, as if swatting away a fly.

Isolde froze for a beat, her hand still hanging in the air. Then she slowly lowered it, her lips tightening, her sharp features twisting into visible scorn.

Frederick caught that expression and chuckled, the laugh dry and mischievous. "I was joking,". His eyes narrowed in amusement as he leaned back in his chair.

"Go on then, what do you want to ask?"

Isolde pressed her lips together before speaking, her voice steady but edged with restrained annoyance.

"Teacher, what does the number of students have to do with suddenly holding a surprise test? And that too when it is our very first class?" She straightened her shoulders, her words measured. "How can we possibly answer questions about the course when we are stepping into it for the first time?"

Ashok almost wanted to clap aloud when Isolde finished her argument.

Because her words what every sane person in the room was thinking.

It was a solid play—logical, safe, and presented without arrogance. After all, it wasn't the five of them who had forced the other hundred students to avoid this course.

The low numbers weren't their fault, and a surprise test in their very first class was nothing short of absurd.

But Ashok's smirk deepened.

'However… you are mistaken about one thing, Isolde. That old bastard is anything but logical.'

"Good question! Good question!" Frederick exclaimed suddenly, his tone booming with exaggerated appreciation. His wrinkled face lit up with a wide smile, as though he had just discovered some rare treasure.

Isolde blinked, caught off guard. For a brief second, she thought she had managed to steer the situation into reason. Perhaps, against all odds, this would bring a fair answer.

But then Frederick tilted his head, eyes glinting mischievously, and added, "But next time… don't ask such a good question."

The smile never left his face.

Isolde's expression soured instantly, her confidence crumbling into barely concealed irritation. The words sounded like praise, but they were laced with mockery, delivered with the grace of a knife disguised as a compliment.

"If I say I will take a surprise test because the number of students is less…" Frederick leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach as if dictating the most natural truth in the world, "…then your job, as students, is simply to take the test. No questions, no complaints. Do you really think your small minds could comprehend the depth of my thoughts?"

The classroom fell silent. The reasoning—or rather, the lack of it—was so brazen that for a moment, even the air felt still. The four students sat stupefied, their mouths slightly open, unable to decide if they had been insulted or enlightened.

Only Ashok remained unshaken. He leaned slightly on his cushion, the corner of his lips twitching upward. He had seen this coming from a mile away.

Frederick's "explanation" was simple, almost childish, but it contained the very core of his teaching style.

The meaning behind the old crook's words could be broken down into a few sharp points:

Don't think, just follow.

Logic doesn't matter.

Your minds can't grasp my logic, so I won't give any reasoning.

And the conclusion was carved in stone: In my class, my words were logic and reasoning is meaningless.