I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 174 - 174: Two Supernatural (2)

Lyssa's thoughts, once dulled by the inexplicable ease of her friendship with Lilia, began to sharpen, cutting through the fog like a blade honed to lethal precision.

The enchantment—the quiet pull she hadn't questioned—was unraveling, and with it, her true instincts as an assassin returned in full force.

It didn't take long.

The moment her clarity snapped back, the pieces fell into place.

The seamless bond, the effortless trust—it hadn't been natural.

It had been crafted.

Lilia had used her Supernatural power on her.

Lyssa understood better than most that the scope of a Supernatural's abilities knew no bounds.

Power could manifest in infinite ways, shaping the world to their will, rewriting the rules of reality itself.

To some, influencing emotions or forging unshakable friendships might seem like a lesser ability—insignificant compared to raw destruction.

But Lyssa knew otherwise.

'Had this continued…'

A terrifying thought struck her.

'I might have given my life for her one day.'

The realization was visceral, like ice sinking into her bones.

The daughter of the World's Greatest Assassin giving her life away for someone. The thought alone was enough for Lyssa to look at herself with disgust.

If Flakey hadn't mentioned, if Lyssa hadn't started suspected, the charm had remained unbroken, she would have fought for Lilia without question, defended her without reason—died for her without hesitation.

And all under the guise of friendship.

Lyssa turned cold.

Her gaze shifted, hardened, and for the first time, her vigilance transformed into something far darker.

Hostility.

Lilia's breath hitched.

The moment she saw the shift—the raging shadow flickering in Lyssa's stare—she averted her gaze, turning away as if to escape it.

But the fear had already rooted itself inside her, unspoken but undeniable.

Lyssa had seen through her.

And now, she knew.

Flakey clapped his hands together, his voice carrying across the classroom with exaggerated ease.

"Alright, alright, no need to get all worked up just because there's a Supernatural among you. Better to be friends than enemies, don't you think? You're all in the same class—might as well make the most of it."

His tone was casual, almost playful, but beneath it lay a quiet understanding.

The revelation had shifted the atmosphere, thickened the air with an unspoken tension.

He could feel it—uncertainty laced between the whispers, unease tightening in some gazes.

Flakey exhaled, shaking his head. "Anyway—let me go wake him up first."

Without another word, his feet lifted from the ground, he floated effortlessly upward.

Then, in an instant, he shot into the sky, the wind swirling in his wake as he ascended toward Ashok.

The boy remained seated in lotus position, his body adrift in quiet defiance of nature, eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady as his body kept moving upwards.

Whatever trance had taken hold of him ran deep—unbroken even by the murmurs below.

Flakey hovered before him, tilting his head slightly. "Mr. Adlet." His voice was clear, measured—but elicited no reaction.

Ashok remained still. Unmoved.

Flakey's brows lifted in mild amusement. "MR. ADLET."

The words rang louder this time, infused with more mana, slicing through the sky with undeniable force.

And yet—nothing.

'Just how deep is his concentration?'

Flakey frowned slightly, watching as Ashok continued his slow ascent, utterly unresponsive.

At this rate, the boy would breach the Inner Layer of the Barrier around the Academy, and that was something Flakey couldn't allow—

Not unless he wanted to deal with the consequences himself.

Clearly, sound wasn't going to be enough.

It was time for something more… physical.

Without hesitation, Flakey grasped Adlet's shoulders and gave him a firm shake—then a more forceful one.

Down in the depths of his Soul Trait, Ashok felt the disruption like a violent tremor.

He had been sinking—no, diving—deep into the currents of his power, descending into something vast and unfathomable that belonged to him that called for him.

But now, something was pulling him back, dragging him upward, tearing through the stillness that had cocooned him.

The world around him shook.

The connection splintered.

And just as the last thread of his concentration unraveled, his mouth opened, irritation bubbling up unchecked—

"WHICH MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A BITC—"

His voice was sharp, edged with raw frustration—until his eyes snapped open.

Standing before him, wide-eyed, was Flakey.

Ashok's voice had torn through the sky with unfiltered irritation, and it was no surprise that his words carried far beyond their intended target.

Down below, the students had heard everything because Ashok's charisma never failed fulling its duty.

Roan barely contained himself, biting down on his inner cheek to suppress the laughter bubbling in his throat. 'This guy is really crazy in the head.'

He had seen boldness before, but this? This was something else entirely.

Gideon, trembling with barely restrained amusement, had resorted to clenching his hands against his mouth.

His entire body shook with the effort of holding back the laughter threatening to burst free. 'Hahaha!'

Meanwhile, Isolde's expression tightened, her thoughts steeped in disdain. 'How crude!'

Elira, standing stiff with indignation, mirrored the sentiment. 'How vile!'

But if there was anyone unfazed, it was Flakey himself.

Born into a commoner's world, he was no stranger to such language.

The streets, the struggles, the survival—he had once lived a life where words were sharp weapons, where curses were as natural as breathing.

But that existence had faded long ago, vanishing the moment he ascended into the ranks of power.

And yet, after years in the realm of rankers, here he was—being greeted by such a spectacular display from a mere student.

Flakey sighed, shaking his head as he withdrew his hands from Ashok's shoulders.

His lips curled slightly, amusement flickering beneath the surface. "Why don't you go on, Mr. Adlet? You were about to say something rather… colorful."

Ashok didn't even blink.

"It was your fault for disturbing my concentration after starting the test, Teacher Flakey," he stated flatly, his tone devoid of apology.

Flakey exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple to suppress the rising urge to smack that infuriatingly unapologetic face before him.

Not a single word of regret—no acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation—and worse yet, Ashok had the audacity to pin the blame on him.

Flakey inhaled deeply, forcing patience into his veins. Finally, he spoke, his tone laced with restrained exasperation.

"I wouldn't have disturbed you, Mr. Adlet, if not for the fact that you were about two seconds away from ascending to the Heavens. Why don't you do yourself a favor and look down for a moment?"

There was a flicker of confusion in Ashok's expression at the mention of ascending to Heaven, but when he finally tilted his gaze downward—

Below him, the students were little more than distant figures, their heads tiny specks beneath the backdrop of sprawling earth.

He was high.

Way higher than he should have been.

The clearing was far beneath him, the treetops swaying gently in the wind, as if mocking him for his lack of awareness.

He was at least five floors above the ground. And he was still rising.

Ashok's thoughts clicked into place, a quiet realization settling over him.

'Did I use my Soul Trait while thinking about it?'

As for being high in the sky he wasn't surprised. Not truly.

Ever since he had started grasping the essence of his abilities, he had begun understanding the 'Negative' Aspect of his Gravity Soul Trait—the unnatural pull, the way it could defy logic when unrestrained.

He didn't know the limits, not yet, but this moment only confirmed what he had suspected.

Flakey sighed, shaking his head as he reached into his Storage Ring, fingers curling around the smooth fibers of a tightly wound rope.

His expression carried a flicker of exasperation, though amusement lingered beneath it. "Mr. Adlet, can you come down on your own, or am I going to have to tie a rope around you and drag you back to solid ground?"

Adlet barely spared him a glance, his posture casual despite the absurdity of the situation.

"No need to trouble yourself," he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets with practiced ease.

His legs straightened, his movements measured, and in the next moment—he halted.

Suspended in midair, Adlet's ascent came to a gradual stop, as if he had finally acknowledged gravity's existence.

Then, effortlessly, his body began its descent, moving with an unnatural smoothness.

Flakey followed alongside him, arms crossed, his mind quietly dissecting what he was witnessing.

'It's not quite flying… more like floating.'

The movement lacked the raw force of propulsion, the weightlessness resembling something closer to a Levitate Spell rather than genuine flight.

'Is his Supernatural power solely tied to this?'

He frowned slightly, the thought resting uneasily in his mind.

Flakey had seen many Supernatural abilities over the years—each unique, each defying logic in their own way.

But flight? Flight alone felt strangely… underwhelming.

To those who had honed their abilities, flight was hardly a spectacle.

By the time a mage or warrior reached A Rank, soaring through the skies via mana or aura propulsion became second nature.

Those of S Rank and beyond could glide effortlessly, expending only a fraction of their energy, their movements as fluid as a bird riding the wind.

And for those gifted with a Wind Affinity, even B Rank was enough to grant them the skies.

In Flakey's eyes, flight was nothing extraordinary.

His gaze lingered on Adlet for a moment longer, studying the controlled descent, the unnatural steadiness in his movements.

This couldn't be simple explained by mana-based levitation, nor did it resemble conventional aerial techniques.

There had to be something more.

Flakey exhaled softly, releasing the thought before it could entangle him further.

The reason being The Academy didn't offer special courses for Supernaturals.

And why would it?

No outsider could truly teach them—their abilities were theirs alone to understand, to harness, to master.

Whatever mystery lurked beneath Adlet's skill, it was his burden to uncover.

The moment Ashok's feet pressed against the tree stump, Flakey's own landed firmly on the earth below.