I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 177 - 177: Reason

Ashok had orchestrated this bet from the very beginning, every move calculated, every word chosen with precision.

Nothing he did was without careful thought.

The only unexpected element had been the sudden introduction of the Double Reward and Punishment—but even that was within the realm of acceptable flexibility.

He had allowed it because he knew, without a shred of doubt, that he would win.

Despite his confidence, Ashok had not sensed even the faintest trace of Flakey's supernatural power during the test.

His knowledge came from the game, not from direct observation.

But that didn't mean he was some reckless fool incapable of constructing a solid reasoning—especially after years of experience as a veteran player.

He met Flakey's gaze, his voice calm and deliberate as he began his explanation.

"First, your ability must be something that influences the mind or the will of others. If we're talking purely about the mental aspect, it can fall into one of three categories—Attack, Defense, or Control." Adlet stated, his tone measured.

Flakey remained silent, but his slight nod signaled that he acknowledged the logic behind that reasoning.

"Defense is immediately ruled out," Adlet continued, his eyes sharp with certainty.

"That leaves either Attack or Control. But if your ability was purely offensive—something designed to directly harm the mind—the Academy wouldn't have hired you."

Flakey's gaze remained fixed on Adlet, his expression unreadable. But there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he asked, "Why?"

Adlet didn't hesitate, his voice steady and precise as he laid out his reasoning.

"Training the mind through exposure to mental attacks is theoretically possible—it could allow students to develop resistance over time.

However, it is an incredibly dangerous method.

The Academy does not hire low-rank incompetents, which means you must be a Ranker.

And as a Ranker, if your ability were a Mind Attack, you would need an extraordinary level of control to weaken its effects enough for students to train safely."

"But even with perfect control, there are too many unpredictable variables.

A bad mood, a moment of frustration, or even a student who is mentally exhausted—any of these could lead to disaster.

If, in such a moment, the degree of attack were even slightly too strong, or if the student's defenses were too weak, the result would be instant death.

No chance of showing resistance, no opportunity to recover—just immediate, irreversible destruction of the mind."

The room fell into a tense silence.

Some students instinctively took deep breaths, as if the mere thought of such death was suffocating.

Others exchanged uncertain glances, unsure whether to be more shocked by Adlet's ability to construct such a reasoning or by the sheer severity of the implications.

For a few, the realization struck deeper—that Adlet's argument wasn't just about Flakey's ability. It was about the Academy itself.

His reasoning was built upon the institution's reputation, its strict standards, and its unwillingness to take risks that could tarnish its name.

Flakey's curiosity had long since shifted from the bet itself—his mind now fixated on the boy before him.

He was no longer testing Ashok's reasoning; he was reassessing his potential.

"Why not Mind Control?" Flakey asked, his voice measured, though his thoughts were already racing ahead.

"If your ability were tied to Mind Control, then the course would not be named 'Mind and Will Training.'

Mind Control does not cultivate strength—it strips it away.

It does not teach resilience—it enforces submission.

The very nature of Mind Control is domination, the erasure of free thought, the bending of will to another's command.

Teacher Flakey—how does one train willpower when their mind is no longer their own?"

His voice was calm, yet it carried the weight of finality, as though the very notion of Mind Control had been dismissed from existence.

Flakey's lips parted slightly, but he did not respond. Instead, he asked, "Why not Illusions?"

Ashok's smirk was subtle, yet unmistakable—a monarch indulging a question he had already deemed irrelevant.

"Weren't you the one who said illusions are not your style?" he countered, his tone laced with amusement. "Or do you now wish to question whether the Academy's teachers are liars?"

The words were sharp, yet not cruel. They carried the confidence of someone who knew he had already won this exchange.

Flakey exhaled slowly, his gaze narrowing. "Then why dreams?" he asked at last.

"Because it is the most fitting," Ashok declared.

"You yourself admitted that you are a Mage, one who avoids physical exertion. That alone eliminates any possibility of your ability being tied to the physical realm."

He took a measured step forward, his presence commanding the attention of every student.

"Second, you are the instructor responsible for Mind and Will Training.

It is well known that these qualities cannot be cultivated through mere theory or passive study—they are forged through experience and accumulated wisdom through life. The Magic Tower refines the mind through illusions, a method superior to traditional means. And yet, illusions are not your style."

Ashok's smirk was subtle, yet it carried the confidence of someone who had already unraveled the truth.

"That leaves only one possibility. You must possess an ability that allows students to undergo profound experiences—ones that shape their minds and strengthen their will—without inflicting real harm upon them. And what fits that purpose better than dreams?"

His words hung in the air, undeniable in their logic.

"Within dreams, nothing is real, yet everything is real to the mind. It is a realm where students can train without the risk of permanent damage, even if some mishap happen. And most importantly—there is no threat of instant death."

With that final declaration, Adlet's reasoning came to an end, and an eerie silence settled over the classroom.

It didn't matter whether they were the Main Characters or the Nobility—every single student of the Aether Class sat frozen, their gazes locked onto Ashok with stunned disbelief.

His words had not merely been an argument; they had been a demonstration of intellect so sharp, so precise, that it left no room for doubt.

Then—

CLAP!

CLAP!

The sound of slow, deliberate applause echoed through the room, breaking the silence like a blade slicing through still air.

Flakey leaned back slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Impressive. Truly impressive."

"It's a pity that I won't be able to have you as my Teaching Assistant for two months. You win, Mr. Adlet." His voice carried genuine admiration, though there was a trace of regret beneath it.

Yet, even as he spoke, his thoughts ran deeper.

'What remarkable observation, analytical precision—paired with sharp intellect. If I set aside his arrogance, speaking to him feels less like conversing with a student and more like engaging with someone of my own age.'

His gaze lingered on Ashok for a moment longer.

'I only hope he does not fall victim to time because of his Supernatural Power. A mind like his—such talent, such potential—should not be wasted by an untimely death.'

Meanwhile, Althea sat rigid, her expression carefully composed, though her thoughts churned beneath the surface.

She knew—she knew—that she could have arrived at the same conclusion given time. The reasoning was not beyond her grasp. And yet, the undeniable truth remained: she had not been the first.

And that fact alone stung her pride.

Roan observed Ashok in silence, his thoughts swirling as he tried to make sense of the boy before him. 'So, either he is a crazy genius or a genius who enjoys acting crazy.'

There was no denying his intellect after what he did today, but the way he carried himself-made it difficult to categorize him neatly.

Leon, on the other hand, was struck by something entirely different.

'A Supernatural Power can be deduced like that?' He had never considered such a possibility.

The depth of reasoning, the ability to unravel abilities through logic alone—it was something beyond his expectations. 'The Saintess was right. I truly have much to learn in the Academy.'

Meanwhile, Alina scoffed internally, her expression neutral but her thoughts sharp. 'What's so great about that? Even I could have deduced something like that.'

Yet, as she glanced around, she saw the way the other students stared at Ashok—as if he were someone extraordinary.

And that irritated her more than she cared to admit.

Then, cutting through the lingering admiration, Ashok spoke—his tone carrying the same commanding presence as before.

"Rather than meaningless compliments, just give me the merit points."

He held out his ID card to Flakey, his posture unwavering, his words devoid of any humility.

The moment those words left his lips, the atmosphere shifted.

The impressed gazes of the students vanished in an instant, replaced by a familiar realization—he was, once again, moving ahead of them.

Flakey sighed internally. More than arrogance, his way of speaking needs to change. He took the ID card from Ashok, preparing to transfer the merit points.

But then—he noticed something.

Three things stood out immediately.

First, Ashok already had two merit points.

Second, there was the symbol of the Golden Hammer.

Third, there was the symbol of the Silver Book.

Flakey blinked, his mind refusing to accept what he was seeing. 'I must be seeing an illusion', he thought as he rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

But the three things remained on Adlet's ID card.

Frowning, he rubbed his eyes once more—this time casting a Clean Spell on them, ensuring there was no trickery, no distortion.

Yet, nothing changed.

"Even if you take your eyes out, my ID card won't change. There's no point wasting time—just hurry up."

Adlet's words were sharp, impatient, carrying the same commanding tone that had already unsettled the students.

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