The Great Auditorium was suffocatingly silent.
The echoing crack of the shattered Awakening Monolith still rang in the ears of the tens of thousands of people present. The massive crystal, an artifact said to be capable of measuring the mana of a Saint-Rank powerhouse, was now nothing more than a pile of pitch-black, smoking dust on the marble stage.
And standing in the center of that dust was Victor Nightshade.
He didn't cheer. He didn't gloat. He simply stood there, his bespoke black and gold-trimmed Academy uniform entirely untouched by the chaotic explosion of dark mana he had just unleashed. The terrifying, abyssal aura that had manifested behind him—the phantom of an Ancient Black Dragon—slowly dissolved back into his shadow.
Yet, the sheer pressure lingering in the air made it difficult for anyone to breathe.
At his feet, Leon Bright, the so-called "Son of Fortune," was pressed face-first against the cold floor. The brilliant, majestic S-Rank Light mana that had illuminated the hall just moments ago was completely suppressed, flickering weakly like a dying candle in a hurricane.
Leon was violently gasping for air, his eyes bloodshot, his teeth grinding so hard that blood seeped from his gums. He tried to push himself up, his muscles screaming in agony, but the invisible weight of Victor's draconic shadow aura was absolute.
"I... I am the Light..." Leon croaked, tears of ultimate humiliation mixing with the dust on his face. "I am... the chosen..."
Victor slowly lowered his gaze. His eyes, usually a cold aristocratic blue, now swirled with a mesmerizing, terrifying violet-black abyss.
"Light?" Victor's voice was soft, barely a whisper, yet it carried to every corner of the silent auditorium. "How blindingly mediocre."
He didn't kick Leon. He didn't even step on him. To Victor, the protagonist crawling at his feet was no different from a pebble on the road. Acknowledging a pebble's existence by kicking it was beneath a dragon's dignity.
Victor slowly pulled a fresh, crisp white silk glove from his inner pocket and elegantly slid it onto his right hand.
"Headmaster," Victor called out, not bothering to turn his head.
Up in the VIP balcony, the Grandmaster-Rank Headmaster jolted as if he had been struck by lightning. This was an old man who had seen decades of war, yet his robes were drenched in cold sweat.
He instantly teleported down to the stage, bowing deeply, not as a teacher to a student, but as an inferior to a terrifying monster.
"Y-Yes, Young Master Nightshade?" the Headmaster stammered, completely ignoring the bleeding Leon on the floor.
"Have your staff clean up this mess," Victor said smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. "It seems the Academy's equipment is severely lacking in quality. Perhaps my father should reconsider his annual funding to this institution if you cannot even provide a Monolith capable of withstanding a slight breeze."
A slight breeze?
The nobles and professors in the stands exchanged horrified glances. He shattered an indestructible artifact with a single touch, summoned a phenomenon that blotted out the sun, and he calls it a slight breeze?!
"I apologize profusely, Young Master!" The Headmaster bowed even lower, his voice trembling. "We will immediately procure a better artifact! Please, allow us to escort you back to your—"
Victor raised a hand, cutting the old man off. "Unnecessary."
Without another word, Victor turned and began walking down the central aisle toward the grand exit.
As he walked, the massive crowd of students, both arrogant nobles and proud commoners, subconsciously parted like the Red Sea. No one dared to make eye contact. They lowered their heads in a mixture of absolute awe, fear, and reverence.
This is the true power of the Nightshade Dukedom, they thought. The rumors were wrong. He isn't a brainless brute. He is a demon lord in human skin.
However, just as Victor approached the towering oak doors of the auditorium, a figure stepped into the aisle, blocking his path.
It was Serena, the Silver-haired Saintess of the Church of Light.
She wore a pristine white clerical robe adorned with golden runes. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of moonlight, and her beauty was so ethereal it seemed unearthly. Normally, her presence commanded absolute respect and piety.
But right now, her usually calm, holy blue eyes were erratic. She gripped her white wooden staff so tightly her knuckles were white.
"Victor Nightshade," Serena spoke, her voice slightly higher than usual, betraying her inner turmoil.
Victor stopped. He looked down at the Saintess, his expression unreadable. "You are blocking my path, Saintess."
Serena swallowed hard. The closer he was, the more she could feel the terrifying, seductive pull of his dark mana. It was the absolute antithesis of everything the Church had taught her. It was evil. It was chaotic.
But... why couldn't she look away?
"That power," Serena forced the words out, trying to maintain her righteous facade. "It is not of the Light. It is pure Abyss. As a representative of the Church, I cannot simply ignore such a dense concentration of dark mana within the Empire's academy."
The nobles holding their breath nearby gasped inwardly. Is the Church going to declare him a heretic?
Victor didn't step back. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, completely invading Serena's personal space.
Serena's breath hitched. She was tall, but Victor towered over her. He leaned down slightly, his face mere inches from hers. She could smell the faint, expensive scent of bergamot mixed with the chilling, metallic scent of his dark magic.
He didn't yell. He didn't threaten her.
Instead, Victor let out a low, incredibly dark, magnetic chuckle that sent shivers directly down her spine.
"Save your sermons for the weak, Saintess," Victor whispered, his voice vibrating with absolute authority, meant only for her ears. "The Light only exists because the Darkness allows it to cast a shadow. You cling to your Goddess because you fear what lies in the dark."
He tilted his head, his violet eyes locking onto hers, seeing right through her holy facade.
"If you are so curious about the Abyss..." Victor's lips curled into a wicked, breathtaking smirk. "...why don't you come and explore it yourself?"
Serena froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a war drum. A sudden, intense flush of heat rushed to her pale cheeks.
Victor straightened his posture, stepping past her without a second glance. He pushed open the grand oak doors and walked out into the sunlight, leaving the Saintess standing there, completely paralyzed.
Serena stood perfectly still. The holy prayers that usually echoed in her mind to keep her calm were completely silent.
She turned her head slightly, looking back at the stage. Medics had finally rushed up to scrape Leon Bright off the floor. The blonde protagonist looked pathetic, covered in blood and dust, muttering insanely about how he was supposed to be the chosen one.
Yesterday, Serena might have felt pity for Leon. She might have even gone over to heal him with her holy magic.
But today? Looking at Leon only made her feel... disgusted.
Then, she looked back at the empty doorway where Victor had disappeared. Her hand reached up, subconsciously touching her burning cheek. For the first time in her pristine, holy life, the teachings of the Light felt incredibly, agonizingly boring.
[Ding!]
[Heroine Serena's worldview is crumbling! Her faith in the Light has wavered!]
[Affection for the Protagonist (Leon) decreased to zero. Curiosity and attraction towards the Host increased drastically!]
[Reward: +2,000 Villain Points!]
Walking down the Academy's stone path, Victor heard the system prompt. His cold smile widened.
A Fallen Saintess. How delightful.