Rowan strode out of the arena, brushing off the swarm of people that immediately started crowding around him. Their noisy chatter buzzed in one ear and out the other; he didn't bother to listen to their offers, praises, or desperate friendship requests.
His gaze stayed straight ahead, but his real focus was on the hologram glowing quietly before him.
[Destiny Villain System]
[Name: Rowan Varlaine]
[Age: 22]
[Identity: Young Master of House Varlaine, Heaven's False Star]
[Villain Points: 100]
[Weapon: Jingubang (Wu Kong)]
[Cultivation Base: Origin Realm Level 2]
[Interdimensional Techniques: Enhanced Buddha's Palm, Miyamoto Musashi's Enhanced Twin Dragon]
Despite the crowd's intensity, Rowan's attention was locked on the system display. His first 100 points—not bad. And Lucien? He'd definitely added Rowan's name to his black book by now.
Which was exactly what Rowan wanted.
But suddenly, the noisy surroundings shifted. The people around him began stepping back one by one, parting as if something—or someone—was forcing them aside.
Sure enough, the buzz died down, replaced by a heavy hush as two figures walked calmly through the gap: an older man and a younger one, both radiating quiet authority.
"Holy crap, that's Sir Arthur! Make way!"
"Hey, step back, don't be rude!"
"I didn't think even he'd show up…"
Whispers rippled through the crowd, thick with awe and pure respect.
Rowan finally paused as Arthur came to stand in front of him.
"I'd like to have a word with you," Arthur said, his voice warm and pleasant.
Rowan gave a faint smile. "Lead the way."
Arthur returned the smile, and the three of them walked away together, leaving the crowd behind. No one dared protest. Everyone held nothing but deep respect for the old man.
---
Later, in a private room, just as the door clicked shut
[.... +500 Villain Points]
------
Time passed swiftly. The rainy night gave way to a bright, warm morning.
Ronan—back to his daily routine—had completed his morning workout, meditated a bit, and finished breakfast. Now, dressed casually (no school uniform), he strolled onto the school grounds, where hundreds of students were already gathered in the open field.
He walked at an easy pace, eyes scanning for familiar faces.
That's when it happened—instinct kicked in.
A hand shot out of nowhere, aiming straight for his shoulder. But Ronan's reflexes moved first. In one smooth motion, he snatched the wrist mid-air, gripping it firmly.
He spun around calmly, eyes landing on the owner of the hand—and the two guys standing behind him.
He released the hand and gave them all a cool once-over.
The three of them stared back, brows furrowed, clearly not expecting Rowan to catch that so easily.
"Who are you guys?" Ronan asked, his tone casual but sharp enough to cut tension.
"Are you Ronan?" the one in front—Denny—asked. He was average-built, with short black hair, and his tone carried clear irritation.
"That's me," Ronan replied flatly.
"Alright, come with us. Lucci wants to see you," Denny said curtly.
"Lucci?" Ronan cocked a brow, completely unimpressed. "Who's Lucci?"
Zi, the one beside Denny, frowned, eyes narrowing. "You don't know Lucci? Are you playing dumb or something?"
"Is he supposed to be famous?" Ronan sneered lightly. "Why should I know him?"
"You—!" One of the other guys snapped, stepping forward like he was about to start something. But Denny blocked him with a hand.
"Heh. Let me refresh that tiny brain of yours," Denny said, smirking. "Lucci Blackwell. Department of Elements. The guy who awakened an S-Class ability. Yeah, I get it—you unawakened nobodies probably don't know much."
The two others burst into laughter like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ronan smiled too, totally unbothered. "Yeah… and? How important is he supposed to be, exactly?" He let out a small, mocking laugh.
That wiped the smirks off their faces fast. Denny scowled and lunged forward, hand reaching for Rowan's collar.
But Ronan shifted his body just slightly—effortlessly—and Denny stumbled forward awkwardly, catching himself right before falling.
Ronan looked down at him with a mild, amused smile. Upgraded Hunter Sense. Worth every point.
"You bastard—!" one of the others barked, ready to act, but stopped short when he noticed all the nearby students turning their heads, eyes glued to the scene unfolding.
Denny, now upright again, seethed with rage, his face twisted in frustration.
"You'll regret this," he hissed, venom dripping from his words. "Enjoy your time while it lasts, unawakened."
With that, he turned sharply, marching away with his two cronies. Ronan simply watched their backs, his gaze indifferent—but deep down, ice-cold and razor-sharp.
Potential enemies.
He'd learned a lot after last night's events at the House of Wisdom. The encounter with that mysterious man who seemed to know everything about him… it had been a wake-up call.
There was no need to play nice.
And now, with these three stepping into his path—and mentioning Lucci—he didn't know much about the guy yet, but he had heard Ryan, Jake, and Liam mention his name before.
The pieces were falling into place, and Ronan knew exactly where this was heading.
---
Minutes passed, and the morning grew hotter. The clock hit 10 a.m., but the sun was already blazing high over Lincolnville High.
All the senior students were gathered on the field. Ronan stood among them, waiting lazily as the vice principal, Mr. Gravis—a pudgy man with glasses—shuffled up to the podium.
He adjusted the mic awkwardly, then finally began speaking.
"Good morning, students. I know many of you have been eagerly looking forward to this day, but I'm afraid… there's some disappointing news."
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Gravis cleared his throat and continued, "Most of the academy and Order representatives who were scheduled to attend… have canceled due to a national security issue. Because of that, the remaining participants also decided to withdraw."
A heavy silence settled over the field.
And then—
"What the hell? We came all the way here for that?"
"Future prep talk? Screw that—I'm out."
"Total waste of time."
The crowd exploded with frustration, students already turning and walking off. Gravis didn't even try to stop them; he knew they wouldn't listen. He just stood there, letting them go, looking a little defeated but resigned.
A few students stayed—mostly the diligent types, the model students… and, of course, some unawakened.
Ronan wasn't about to stick around either. He turned to leave.
But just before he stepped away, he spotted them—the same three from earlier, standing off to the side. Denny caught his eye and, with a smug grin, tapped two fingers to his own eyes, then pointed them at Ronan.
Ronan's expression stayed calm, completely unfazed, as he continued walking toward the parking lot. He didn't bother looking back—even though the three guys had already disappeared from sight.
On his way there, a familiar figure caught his eye—a tall guy waving at him energetically. Not Elliot… someone else. Blond hair, a charming face, tall—around 186 cm. As Ronan got a clearer look, recognition settled in.
It was Reiner Ziegler.
They weren't as close as he was with Elliot, but Reiner was still a solid friend.
"Yo, Ronan! Over here!" Reiner shouted.
Ronan veered in his direction, striding over. When he got close, they fist-bumped casually.
"Wasup?"
Reiner grinned, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Hey, I scored an extra ticket to the boxing club. After seeing your punches the other day… I heard they've got a special class for unawakened there. Think of it as sharpening your skills, you know? This world's not exactly kind."
He handed Ronan the ticket with a sly smile.
Ronan looked it over, then glanced at Reiner. "You want me to come with you?" he asked, brows raised.
"Yeah, man. It's gonna be a blast tonight," Reiner said eagerly.
Ronan nodded. "Alright. You pick me up."
"9 p.m. sharp. Don't make me wait," Reiner replied with a grin. "See you tonight."
With that, they split ways—Reiner heading toward another parking lot where his car was waiting.
As Ronan continued walking, he eyed the ticket in his hand. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Not a bad idea… polishing his close combat game tonight.
But as soon as he arrived at the parking area, the smile faded.
He came to a stop, staring in silence.
Right in front of him, his bicycle—his faithful companion for years—was destroyed. Completely wrecked. The wheels had been yanked off, the metal frame bent and snapped, lying in a pathetic, twisted heap of junk.
It was ruined.
A few students passing by glanced at the scene, whispering nervously, but none dared approach. Most quickened their pace, clearly wanting no part of whatever had happened here.
Ronan stood still, his gaze cold and sharp, taking in the mess without a word.
And then—he heard footsteps.
Crunching against the pavement.
He looked up slowly.
The same three guys from earlier were walking toward him—Denny in front, eyes burning with rage, flanked by the other two.
"Don't think you're getting away that easily, you lowlife unawakened bastard," Denny snarled, voice dripping with venom. "Lucci's waiting for you. But before that… you're not leaving without a little souvenir."