I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 159: A Monarch’s Presence

Hamiel's question, steeped in principle and honor, barely lingered in the air before Ashok smirked, his expression carrying an unmistakable air of confidence.

His voice was steady, deliberate, as he began—

"First—the fruits, grown in an environment enriched with nature-elemental mana, thriving in untouched abundance."

Hamiel furrowed his brows, confusion creeping into his features as he leaned forward slightly.

"What are you talking about?"

His tone held genuine bewilderment, his mind struggling to follow where fruits suddenly fit into this conversation.

But Ashok wasn't stopping.

"They are harvested at the peak of ripeness—when their essence reaches absolute balance. More than fifty varieties are crushed together to extract a heavenly mixture. Then, through perfect timing, aging, and a specialized filtering process, a rare liquid is born."

The words flowed like a carefully crafted explanation, woven with purpose.

The moment the phrase 'special liquid' reached Hamiel's ears, his expression shifted sharply—realization beginning to dawn.

His lips parted slightly as he hurriedly interrupted—

"Stop!"

But Ashok continued—his words carrying momentum.

"After flawless aging, the liquid is sealed into a specialized bottle. Now, tell me—what do you think it tastes like?"

A visible tension overtook Hamiel, his resolve thinning.

"STOP!"

His voice rose, almost desperate, yet Ashok pressed forward without hesitation—

"The taste—formed from more than fifty fruits from across the Empire. A heavenly texture, a warmth so deep, so rich, that even the harshest winter would feel like spring."

Ashok leaned back slightly, his gaze locked onto Hamiel, knowing the words had done their work.

"That… is Spirit Wine a masterpiece of nature itself."

Hamiel's voice quivered, his restraint visibly crumbling as he weakly pleaded—

"P-Please stop!"

Yet, the words lacked conviction—they were spoken more out of self-preservation than true resistance.

Ashok, calm and deliberate, picked up the bottle from the table, rolling it slightly in his grasp before speaking—

"Now, do you think you'll ever have another chance to encounter such a perfect wine in your lifetime?"

GULP.

Hamiel swallowed hard, his dwarven instincts rebelling against his reason, the thirst burning within him, screaming for him to abandon logic entirely.

But his arms remained crossed, his posture stubborn.

Ashok's voice pressed forward, deepening the weight of the temptation—

"A wine so rare, so exquisite, it can even be passed down as a family heirloom. Do you truly believe another opportunity will come for you to taste it in your remaining years?"

GULP!

The second gulp was even louder, more desperate—yet still, Hamiel held his stance.

His body betrayed his desires, yet his pride forced him to remain unmoving.

Ashok, watching the internal struggle unfold before him, finally shook his head, exhaling heavily.

His tone carried an edge of mock sorrow, the words striking Hamiel where they hurt most—

"It seems the honor of the teacher outweighs the chance to drink the perfect wine of a lifetime. Alas—you will never taste this masterpiece."

The final blow had been delivered.

Ashok, maintaining his composure, slowly moved the bottle toward his storage ring, his fingers steady, his movements deliberate.

The glow of the storage ring flickered as the bottle neared its entrance, seconds away from disappearing entirely—

But then—a firm, bulky hand seized it mid-air.

The grip was tight, unwavering, preventing its retreat.

Ashok's gaze lifted slowly, meeting the figure beside him.

Hamiel stood there, his expression strained, his lips parted, yet the words barely escaped.

A murmur—soft, hesitant.

"I… it…"

Ashok raised an eyebrow, his voice carrying an edge of amusement.

"What did you say?"

Hamiel swallowed hard, the internal struggle still evident, his body refusing to let go of the bottle, yet his pride keeping him from admitting defeat outright.

"I… do it."

But Ashok wasn't satisfied.

"I still can't hear you. Speak more clearly."

The battle within Hamiel finally collapsed, his restraint crumbling as his voice rang out.

"I WILL DO IT. I will do the enchantment for the Spirit Wine."

The words solidified the deal, sealing his fate.

And Ashok—his smirk widened, victory clear in his eyes.

'This proves it. Alcohol is greater than the rules of the Academy.'

With deliberate motion, Ashok placed the bottle back onto the table, watching as Hamiel returned to his seat, his demeanor still visibly shaken by the decision he had just made.

Hamiel exhaled, composing himself as he gestured toward Ashok.

"Let me have a closer look at those spectacles."

Yet instead of handing them over, Ashok leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful as he posed a different question.

"Is this place enchanted with Presence Suppression?"

Hamiel spoke with ease, gesturing casually as he reassured Ashok—

"Yeah! You don't have to worry. This place is completely enchanted—not just with Presence Suppression, but also Sound Blocking, Perception Blocking, Heat Expulsion, and countless other enchantments. And even if they weren't here, you wouldn't need to worry because I could suppress your presence very easil—"

He never finished the sentence.

The moment Ashok removed his spectacles, a wave of oppressive force crashed down upon the room, suffocating the air with a weight leagues above anything Mia had demonstrated in class—and all of it, without the slightest trace of mana usage.

Hamiel barely had time to react.

His body stiffened, his surroundings distorted, and before he could process the shift—he saw an illusion that he was somewhere else entirely.

The office vanished, replaced by the towering grandeur of a royal court, its vast expanse stretching into an unseen abyss.

Hamiel was no longer seated at his desk.

Instead, he found himself kneeling, his position low, his presence diminished, his very existence dwarfed beneath the figure above him.

At the far end of the court, seated high upon a grand throne, was Ashok like a Monarch.

His piercing red eyes bore down upon Hamiel, glowing like embers of a dying fire—calm, unyielding, ready to pass judgment at any moment, without hesitation, without mercy.

The sheer dominance in his gaze stripped away the illusion of familiarity—Ashok was no longer just a student.

At that moment, he was something far greater.

And Hamiel—for the first time in centuries—felt small.

Ashok's presence was beyond suppression, beyond manipulation—it was absolute.

The illusion vanished in an instant, dissolving like mist before an unstoppable force.

Yet—the moment reality returned, Hamiel unleashed his own technique, attempting to regain control, to push back the presence that had overwhelmed him.

But it was futile.

The oppressive weight of Ashok's existence surged even further, eclipsing not just the heat of the forge, not just the layered enchantments, but even the battle-tested aura technique Hamiel had crafted over decades.

In that moment, the dwarf realized his failure.

His body reacted instinctively, forcing him to reinforce himself with Aura—a desperate move, not one of offense, but one of sheer defensive necessity.

There was no choice but to accept defeat.

Ashok, completely at ease, exhaled as if relieved, his tone calm, unfazed—

"It feels good to let loose."

With a smooth motion, he slid his glasses across the table toward Hamiel, a simple act, yet one carrying undeniable weight.

But—Hamiel didn't reach for them.

Instead, his body remained tense, his stance stiff, his eyes locked onto Ashok as if watching an unknown enemy.

It wasn't just wariness—it was deep-seated uncertainty.

And then—the question finally came.

Hamiel's voice was firm, yet beneath it, a lingering trace of shock remained.

"What is this? This doesn't feel like a supernatural power. Answer me—what kind of technique is this?"

Despite his expertise, despite his mastery over mana pressure refined through years of craft and experience, Hamiel's technique had been utterly dismantled.

And the worst part?

It wasn't even mana that had done it.

Ashok's smile remained calm, unwavering, his words carrying an air of casual confidence—

"Let's say I was born with a strong presence. Do you think I wore those glasses just because my eyesight was bad?"

His expression showed not a single trace of fear, his tone sharp yet effortless, as if the matter was of little importance to him.

Hamiel exhaled, releasing a deep sigh, his once-rigid vigilance fading with the breath.

Though doubt lingered in the back of his mind, he found no immediate way to refute Ashok's words.

'Strong presence, he says. A kid who can erase the presence of a peak SSS Ranker and claims he was born with it? That's an obvious lie.

But still… this might be his trump card. Though just what kind of monster is this kid?'

After a moment of hesitation, Hamiel simply accepted Ashok's presence as part of his strengths, choosing not to challenge it further.

However—before he could respond, something changed.

A faint shift in the atmosphere, something he had failed to notice earlier when Ashok released his presence.

His instincts flared—sharp, urgent.

Hamiel's head snapped to the side, his gaze locking onto a bookshelf overflowing with tomes and blueprints.

For a second or two, he simply stared, his breath growing uneven.

Then—his eyes shook.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned back to Ashok, his expression carrying a shock far greater than before.

Ashok's outward expression remained neutral as he asked, "What?"

Yet deep inside, his thoughts drifted—'I wonder how they reacted to my presence.'

Despite Hamiel's momentary shock, he quickly composed himself, brushing off the concern with a simple—

"Nothing."

With that, he picked up Ashok's spectacles, his skilled hands instinctively scanning the artifact as he began his inspection.

For a seasoned blacksmith of his rank, analyzing the structure, composition, and enchantments came naturally.

After a few moments, Hamiel looked up, his tone direct—

"What kind of runes do you want?"

Ashok responded with calm certainty—

"Make sure all of them are passive in nature and don't require my mana to activate. As for the runes, you can pick whatever you want."

Hamiel's brows furrowed, confusion slipping into his tone.

"What do you mean 'whatever'?"

The dwarf was no fool—he knew that Adlet understood the intricacies of runes, which made his vague request all the more unusual.

Ashok's lips curled slightly, his smile carrying a subtle challenge—

"I want to see what kind of enchantment a Grade 6 Blacksmith can create—one worthy of the value equal to this precious bottle of wine. Of course, the enchantment shouldn't interfere with the original effect of the glasses."