I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 94: The Academy?

If Ashok chose to expose the truth hidden by the Tower for so many years, the repercussions would fall squarely on his shoulders. At best, he mused, his life would become far more complicated.

The mages loyal to the Tower were predominantly commoners—individuals who had found their way through sheer talent and determination. 'That's what they say' thought Ashok. The reality is far less noble. Most of them are rejects, people who couldn't gain entry into the Academy.

Nobles, on the other hand, relied on their bloodlines, their deeply entrenched magical traditions diverging from the methods the Tower propagated.

'Revealing that mages had gone missing due to the fissure?' Ashok thought. It wouldn't stir the pot much. The world already sees the common-born mages of the Tower as expendable—a cruel truth, but a truth nonetheless. 'But if I exposed the Tower Master's injuries...' that would be an entirely different story.

The Elders of the Tower, who guarded their institution's reputation with zealous fervor, would come for him without hesitation. And a confrontation with the Elders was a headache he had no interest in inviting.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Ashok's thoughts shifted, each possibility turning over in his mind like the pieces of a puzzle.

He glanced briefly at the Head Butler, who remained silent after his dramatic tale, his every word carefully curated to obscure the Tower's vulnerabilities.

It was in that moment of reflection that Cassius, seated across from him, broke the stillness. His voice cut through the tension like a blade, laden with curiosity and unease.

"If the fissure is sealed," Cassius asked, his sharp gaze fixed on the Head Butler, "why is the Head Butler still scared of that… whatever it was?"

The Head Butler let out a long sigh and asked "Do you remember the second expedition team that was supposed to go after the first?"

"Yes" said Cassius.

The Head Butler let out a faint, mirthless laugh, the sound chilling in its detachment. "I was one of the three mages chosen for the second expedition team," he began, his tone measured but unsettlingly calm.

"At first, I was supposed to be part of the First Team, but… due to certain circumstances, I was reassigned and thanks to that I am alive." His laughter returned, soft and hollow, but it carried an edge that sent chills racing down Cassius and Duke's spine.

The Head Butler's grave tone carried the weight of unspoken warnings as he concluded, "After that incident, the Tower banned offensive spells of space magic. The fissure was somehow sealed within the Tower, but outside? If two space mages were to clash... who knows what disaster might unfold."

The heavy silence that followed only deepened the solemnity of his statement.

Ashok, however, felt his patience thinning with every passing moment. 'I can no longer stomach his unending glorification of the Tower,'

Breaking from the tense atmosphere, Ashok chose to ignore the mood entirely. "I'm sure you must be feeling lighter now, having finally unburdened yourself from the weight of all that bottled-up nostalgia," he said, his voice calm yet edged with faint derision.

"Alas! I feel sad to remind you—your mana veins aren't cleared yet," he said, his tone deceptively light, though every word felt like a barb. "And after stirring up all those memories with this tale and giving your precious time that should have been used to save your own body, I wouldn't be surprised if they've started to solidify further."

The Head Butler's glare was instant, his expression sharpening into one that seemed to accuse, 'Who are you to speak, when you're behind everything?'

Ashok disregarded the silent hostility entirely and pressed forward, "Well! With the tale I am sure you are all in clear with my second option. Bring me the blood of that thing between dimension and I myself would take out the entity's soul from your daughter's body within a second."

The Head Butler couldn't believe his ears for a second, it has not even been a minute that he The Head Butler froze in disbelief for a fraction of a second, his mind struggling to process the audacity of Ashok's demand.

Barely a moment had passed since he had recounted the horrors of the fissure, the terrors of that unfathomable being, and yet this young man dared to utter such a request with a tone as casual as if discussing the weather.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!" he bellowed, his voice booming through the chamber. The Head Butler's face was contorted with rage, veins prominent against his weathered skin as he stared Ashok down.

But Ashok was unimpressed. He spoke, his tone commanding and dripping with icy authority. "It's not like I'm forcing you. The Duke is the one who's desperate to speed things along. I'm merely presenting options. If you feel the need to bark, direct it at your master. Barking at me won't change a thing."

The older man's shout faltered, his voice unable to stand against Ashok's sharp and commanding retort. Despite his rage, the Head Butler said nothing further. Ashok had not only outmaneuvered him verbally but had struck with precision, rendering any further argument void.

And to make matters worse, Ashok hadn't been wrong—the Duke's urgency was the driving force behind these extreme measures, not Ashok's whims. Still, the sting of Ashok's words cut deep, especially the insult cloaked in calm indifference.

The unspoken comparison to a barking dog was as deliberate as it was infuriating, yet the Head Butler, knowing he had no ground to stand on, swallowed his pride and kept silent.

"Moving on," Ashok began with calm authority, "I can see that both the first and second options sound impossible. The third option, however, is what I've suggested from the very start.

Just wait for four or five months while I gather the items I need, and then I'll remove the entity's soul from your daughter's body myself."

The second option—obtaining the blood of that being between dimensions—was dismissed almost immediately. It was unthinkable, far too dangerous to even entertain. The horrors described by the Head Butler and the sheer magnitude of what they faced made that path a gamble with certain doom.

The first option, though equally daunting, lingered in the Duke's thoughts. Contacting the Saintess of Light... asking for the conditions to summon a god, even briefly... The idea tugged at the edges of his mind.

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It was not entirely impossible, but the more he thought about it, the more the risks seemed to outweigh the rewards. The Saintess of Light was no ordinary figure—she was a woman of immense influence and even greater cunning.

Dealing with her would be like dancing on the edge of a blade. And gods? Gods were beings of incomprehensible power, last to be disturbed for any mortal whim.

After a long moment of deliberation, the Duke's shoulders eased ever so slightly. He exhaled softly, the tension leaving his frame as he came to the only viable conclusion.

The Duke looked at Head Butler and said "Prepare for the young man to stay in the mansion."

"Wait!" Ashok interjected sharply "How did you come to the conclusion that I would be staying over here?" asked Ashok.

The Duke, momentarily caught off guard, raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What are you talking about? You're the one who drew the symbol. If anything were to go wrong, you're the only one capable of correcting it. And if you need to leave the mansion to gather whatever things you require, I can arrange for your safety."

Ashok let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if the Duke's words were some grand misunderstanding. "Nothing will go wrong with the symbol. The Ancient Language doesn't work like that. If there was any potential for error, it would have shown itself the moment I finished drawing the symbol. The only variable here," he added, casting a sidelong glance at the Head Butler, "is whether this old man fails to channel mana properly. Beyond that, there's nothing that could possibly go wrong."

Ashok turned his focus back to the Duke, his tone growing even firmer. "And as for my safety—don't concern yourself. If I've said I'll cure your daughter within five months, then I will. It doesn't require me living under your roof to do so."

The Duke sighed, resigned to Ashok's unyielding will. He reached into the storage ring on his finger, his movement deliberate and calm, and withdrew a communication orb.

Handing it over to Ashok, the Duke said, "With this, you can communicate with me anytime you need to, and I will do the same. But still... where should I expect to find you most of the time?"

Ashok, holding the orb lightly in his hand, glanced at the Duke with a faint smirk. "You'll have to arrange something for that,

The Duke's brows furrowed slightly as confusion flickered across his face. Ashok had just refused the offer to stay in the mansion, yet he was now implying that arrangements would need to be made for his living situation. The contradiction puzzled him, but he chose not to question Ashok's methods outright. Instead, he asked directly, "Where?"

Ashok's response was subtle but intentional—he gestured to the uniform he was wearing. The Duke's gaze followed the motion, his eyes narrowing slightly before realization dawned.

"The Academy?" the Duke asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

Ashok offered a small, almost nonchalant nod. "Technically, I'm currently a student there," he replied, his tone as calm as ever. "So, Yes. The Academy."

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