I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 131: This is Unfair

Alina's contempt ran deep, simmering beneath the composed exterior she maintained.

She had known Adlet all her life—known his failures, his weaknesses, his inadequacies.

To her, he had always been nothing more than an arrogant fool, born into the prestigious bloodline yet utterly unworthy of it.

She still remembered the day he had declared, out of nowhere, that he would relinquish his right as heir to the Eastern Duchy and take self-exile from the family.

The announcement had been laughable—unnecessary.

Even if he hadn't given up the title, their father would have never appointed him as the head of the Eastern Family.

In fact, their father had despised him more than anyone.

Alina never once saw Adlet as her sibling.

To her, he was a bastard—someone who did not belong to the bloodline of Cindergarde.

His disappearance had seemed final, fitting.

Yet now, after vanishing without a trace, he had returned—strutting into the Academy not to mention even in the Aether Class.

And he knew Ancient Languages? Impossible.

Her golden eyes narrowed as she observed him, watching him answer Hamiel with unwavering confidence.

'This bastard never had the talent to learn Ancient Languages. He must be cheating, or he's acquired some kind of artifact that lets him identify them.' The thought twisted in her mind, laced with irritation.

How could someone so lacking suddenly hold such knowledge?

Meanwhile, Althea, standing beside Leon, snorted in disdain, sharing in the skepticism.

'It's just some runes—what's so great about it?' she mused, folding her arms.

'Ancient Languages have been obsolete for centuries, mostly confined in weapon enchantment now even that was diminishing day by day.

They died with the Ancient Era. This is the era of Magic Circles, where research and continuous development matter far more than some primal languages.'

Her gaze flickered toward her staff, where she had just uncovered the hidden rune after casting Dispel after watching Hamiel.

Yet despite her logic, despite Alina's bitterness, neither could deny the attention Ashok was drawing. Whether they accepted it or not, he had shifted the room's focus entirely onto himself.

Varnok, ever direct, scoffed internally as he observed Ashok.

'That guy has more arrogance than intelligence. Though it doesn't look bad to contend against the Teachers.' Thought Varnok as he started to appreciate Ashok personality, truly a barbarian.

Near the back of the hall, Zog leaned toward his sister, his voice a hushed whisper.

"Sister, do you know what they're talking about? What are Runes?"

His curiosity was evident, but Mira only shook her head, as even she didn't knew much about runes.

Leon, just remained rigid as he watched Ashok's back.

'I have a bad feeling about that guy. It's kind of pricking my senses.' His instincts urged caution about that guy from the moment he enter the class.

Yet as the thought lingered, he quickly shook his head, reprimanding himself.

'No! No! I should not judge anyone based on feelings alone.'

Resolving to maintain fairness, he closed his eyes briefly and murmured a short prayer to the Goddess of Light, asking for forgiveness for even a moment of unnecessary doubt.

Meanwhile, Hamiel was utterly engrossed in his discovery, lost in a rare thrill. 'To think I would find this kind of treasure among the first-years… This is surely fate.'

Hamiel's mind raced with possibilities, his gaze locked onto Ashok with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

The understanding of ancient languages—particularly runes—was not something casually acquired. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Within the Academy, runes were introduced only to fourth-year students of the blacksmith division, and even then, mastering just five runes within a year was considered exceptional.

The difficulty lay in their deceptive simplicity.

Runes often appeared nearly identical to one another, their distinctions marked by minuscule variations—a slight stroke angled differently, a faint shift in shape.

These seemingly trivial differences were the very reason students frequently erred, leading to entirely incorrect inscriptions or complete failures.

Precision was everything, and the concentration required to read, let alone inscribe them properly, was immense.

This, more than anything, was why runes had faded into obscurity in the present era.

Modern enchantment and magical advancements had rendered them obsolete to all but a few.

Hamiel himself was among the last remaining dwarves who still practiced rune forging; even his kin had moved on, favoring magical enchantments over the ancient ways.

But now, standing before him, was an anomaly.

A first-year student—not only familiar with runes but demonstrating an effortless mastery over their intricacies.

Hamiel could feel the greed creeping into his thoughts, the longing to claim this knowledge, to mold it into something greater.

'I cannot let this kid go. He has both the knowledge of metal and runes—if he were to inherit my art of blacksmithing, he could become the greatest blacksmith in the entire world.'

His rough hands twitched, his mind nearly salivating at the idea.

'Imagine it! To be known as the teacher of the greatest blacksmith on the continent!'

Ashok's arrogance meant nothing to him now. Talent—true talent—was the only thing that mattered.

And in Ashok, Hamiel had just glimpsed something rare, something invaluable.

With an eager glint in his eye, the dwarf swiftly sketched another rune onto his notepad, turning it toward Ashok.

"What about this one?" he asked, his voice tinged with anticipation.

But Ashok didn't even glance at it.

His expression remained impassive, his crimson eyes fixed elsewhere as he dismissed the request with a sharp retort.

"I am no longer interested in this quiz game."

Hamiel frowned but refused to relent. "Last one!" he insisted.

"No." Ashok's reply was firm.

Unwilling to accept defeat, Hamiel started circling Ashok while holding the notepad up like an eager apprentice seeking approval.

"Just look at it once! Just this one—I promise it's the last one."

At this point, the dynamic had completely shifted.

Ashok, the student, stood his ground like a teacher dismissing an overly inquisitive pupil, while Hamiel, the veteran blacksmith, looked more like a stubborn learner trying to coax out answers.

Mia, watching the spectacle unfold, sighed internally. 'Senior Hamiel, please maintain yourself.'

She sent him a telepathic message, hoping to curb his behavior.

Hamiel's response was immediate and sharp.

'Shut up and don't you dare interfere.' His eyes flicked toward Mia in a firm glare, silencing her before she could protest further.

Then, returning to his pursuit, he resumed moving around Ashok, holding up the notepad persistently.

Without even glancing in his direction, Ashok spoke with unwavering finality. "I will not tell."

His refusal carried an air of indifference, making it clear that no amount of coaxing would change his mind.

Hamiel, realizing persuasion would not work, decided to play his trump card. He stopped moving, exhaled sharply, and spoke in a voice that carried the weight of something significant.

"I will give you a Merit Point if you manage to identify this one."

The reaction was instantaneous.

A wave of stunned silence swept through the hall before heavy breaths echoed in response, the weight of his offer sinking into every student present.

Merit Points—the coveted rewards spoken of in class but rarely granted—were now being offered so casually, so easily. A merit point just for Identifying a Single Rune?

The disbelief among the students was palpable.

Some exchanged wide-eyed glances, others whispered among themselves, barely containing their astonishment.

The charged atmosphere of the Weapon Hall snapped as Alina's amplified voice reverberated across the chamber like a battle horn.

"Teacher! This is unfair!" Her words were sharpened with indignation, her tone magnified by her Voice Amplify Spell, ensuring that every student—every noble—heard her challenge.

Her defiance was contagious.

"Yes! This is not fair!"

"Why is he the only one getting the chance?"

"Unfair!"

Voices rose in unison, their protests gaining momentum.

The nobles, ever obsessed with maintaining hierarchy, refused to let someone surpass them without consequence.

With Alina leading the outcry, they found their rallying point, their shield against what they deemed favoritism.

But Ashok didn't even bother turning.

'Idiots.' The word flickered in his mind, dismissing the nobles' outrage as nothing more than petulant noise.

And then Hamiel moved.

His presence, once filled with scholarly enthusiasm, became something entirely different—unyielding authority.

His voice, laced with weight and fire, cut through the dissent with brutal precision.

"Who do you think you are talking back to?"

The eight students who had raised their voices—including Alina—collapsed to their knees as if the very world had turned upside down and everything had shifted against them.

Their bodies trembled under the sudden pressure, confusion flashing across their faces.

The remaining students, despite their discomfort, remained standing, forced to bear witness to their peers' downfall.

Those who didn't raise their voice was not even touched by Hamiel's mana.

Then the heat came.

It was suffocating—an unbearable surge of warmth, as if they had been thrust into their bodies as if inside a roaring furnace.

Their breaths became shallow, sweat forming on their brows as their lungs struggled against the oppressive air.

Even Alina who held great resistance against Fire was feeling the Heat.

Hamiel's sharp gaze swept over them, his presence alone an unrelenting force.

"You ungrateful, worthless chicks," he growled, each syllable carrying unspoken fury. "You lots will teach me what is fair and Unfair?"

The hall was silent save for the labored breaths of those kneeling because no one could now reply to angry Teacher.

The suffocating heat continued to bear down on the kneeling nobles, their bodies trembling under the weight of Hamiel's wrath.

His piercing gaze burned like smoldering embers, radiating authority that demanded unquestionable submission.

"Look at you weaklings! You cannot even raise your heads, yet you dare display signs of rebellion against a teacher?" Hamiel's voice thundered through the Weapon Hall, his words laced with scorn.