I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 179 - 179: Ninja... No, Shinobi

This time, however, his choice of training room was different.

"Impact Absorption Room. Three hours."

The words were spoken with certainty as he approached the receptionist's desk.

The receptionist, a woman who had been casually reading a book, raised her gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him.

"You're a Mage, aren't you?" she questioned, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism.

Ashok did not bother with explanations.

Instead, he responded with a roundabout dismissal, his voice calm yet firm.

"My identity is that of a student with credits."

A clear, indirect way of saying: Do your job and don't ask unnecessary questions.

The receptionist's expression darkened slightly, her silent glare lingering on him for a moment.

But she did not argue.

Without another word, she deducted the balance, assigned him a room number, and handed back his ID card before returning to her book.

'If you're reading a book, just read the book. Why waste energy caring about what others are doing?' thought Ashok.

Ashok dismissing the receptionist's unnecessary curiosity without a second thought. He simply took his ID card, turned on his heel, and made his way toward the designated room.

This time, he encountered no one along the way—no lingering gazes, no interruptions. It was a quiet, solitary walk, just as he preferred.

Upon reaching his destination, he stepped inside, immediately noting the stark contrast between this space and the Spell Training Room.

This was something entirely different.

The moment his foot touched the ground, he noticed—no sound.

Not a single step echoed, not even the faintest shuffle of movement.

The entire room was constructed not from metal, but from a specialized rubber, designed to absorb impact and sound alike.

Thick black rubber coated every surface—the walls, the ceiling, even the floor—creating an environment that felt both suffocating and strangely isolating.

The only source of light came from thin gaps along the edges, where faint beams slipped through, casting fragmented illumination across the space.

It was vast—at least three times larger than the Spell Training Room.

Ashok took a slow breath, his gaze sweeping across the space.

"Well…" he mused internally. "Even the price was also three times higher—thirty credits per hour."

Not that it mattered.

Credits were meaningless to him can be earned anytime he wanted.

Ashok lowered his gaze, focusing intently on the ground beneath him. Slowly, he raised his leg to about knee height—then stomped down with controlled force.

The moment his foot made contact with the floor, ripples spread outward, the impact dispersing evenly across the surface rather than concentrating in one spot.

This was the essence of the Impact Absorption Room—a space specifically designed for training Movement-Type Arts and Skills.

Many students, when attempting a new movement technique, often miscalculated their mana usage, leading to disastrous results.

Some ended up slamming into trees, others colliding with fellow students, and the truly unfortunate ones found themselves face-first against a wall.

This room existed precisely to prevent such humiliating accidents.

But Ashok wasn't here to refine a Movement Art—he didn't have one in the first place and this was also the very reason why the Receptionist was curious as to why would a Mage would pick this place.

He was here to train the 'Negative' Aspect of Gravity.

After spending so much time concentrating in class, he had begun to grasp the concept—though it was still far from mastery.

In simple terms, it was akin to Anti-Gravity, Reverse Gravity, or Negative Gravity—a force that defied the natural pull of the world.

As he stood there, contemplating the mechanics of it, a thought surfaced in his mind.

"Maybe I should have taken science more seriously in school."

A wry smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Too late for regrets now.

Ashok didn't dwell on the name of his ability—what mattered was the effect.

If he activated it, he could fly.

And the power wasn't limited to the unconscious display he had shown in class earlier; that had merely been the first multiplier.

He had a feeling he could push the effect up to five times its strength. That was his limit.

'Let's go all out then', Ashok thought.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself in the vast training hall.

Ashok focused.

Gravity. Negative.

He didn't just activate his power—he imagined it at its fullest potential.

And then—

SWOOSH! BOOM!

A violent burst of force propelled him upward at a speed beyond his control.

His body became a blur, a streak of motion cutting through the air.

Before he could react, his head slammed into the ceiling with a resounding impact.

The specialized material absorbed the entire force, bending inward to its limit, but even so, the collision rattled his skull like he had crashed into solid concrete.

Pain flared through his forehead, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

Worse still, his momentum hadn't fully stopped—his body kept pressing against the ceiling, his head stubbornly trying to push through the ceiling as if he could puncture a hole through it.

'DEACTIVATE. SHUT DOWN.'

Ashok kept shouting commands in his mind, desperate to halt the overwhelming force as pain throbbed through his skull. His Soul Trait responded instantly—

And then—

SLAM!

THUD!

THUD!

Gravity did not negotiate.

Ashok plummeted from the ceiling like a poorly thrown sack of potatoes, crashing onto the floor with a force and even thought the force was absorbed.

He bounced once, rolled twice, and finally lay flat, sprawled out like a discarded action figure.

For several seconds, he just… existed.

Face-up, staring at the ceiling he had so violently headbutted moments ago, his brain still rebooting from the impact.

Slowly, he sat up, one hand pressing against his throbbing forehead. His breath was uneven, his head tingling from the reckless experiment.

'I should not have gone all out', he thought, wincing at his own lack of foresight.

Then, with a sigh, he glanced around the training hall, as if expecting someone to have witnessed his spectacular failure.

Thankfully, the room remained empty—no audience, no judgment. Just him, his bruised dignity, and the valuable insight he had gained.

Next time, he would test his ability in a more open space. Preferably one without ceilings. Though that didn't mean he was without useful insights.

The first insight or something like Experimental Log #1 Ashok gained—aside from the throbbing pain in his skull—was the mental consumption.

It wasn't just the crash that left him feeling drained. No, this was different. His mind felt slightly sluggish, like he had just spent an hour staring at a video game screen without blinking.

That dull, hazy exhaustion—not physical, but mental.

He hadn't recorded the exact time when he activated or deactivated his ability, but he estimated the entire ordeal lasted around five seconds.

From the exhilarating flight to the unfortunate attempt at screwdriving his head into the ceiling, it had been brief—but intense.

'Four seconds at the very least', he thought. 'But definitely not less than that.'

The conclusion was an obvious one but still tested one 'The speed at which my mental strength fades depends on the level of output.'

Back in class, when he had flown briefly, he hadn't felt even the slightest bit of fatigue. But now? Now, after pushing his ability to its limit of his ability even for few seconds, he felt slightly mentally tired.

The second insight Ashok gained was about his flying speed.

He scanned the room, his gaze tracing the walls before settling on the ceiling—the very same ceiling that had so unceremoniously halted his ascent.

The training hall stretched wide, its vastness giving the illusion of openness, but in truth, it was not built for height.

The ceiling loomed at the standard floor level, a silent reminder of his earlier miscalculation.

'At maximum output, I can cover the height of one floor in about one second', the second conclusion Ashok came up to.

That was fast. Too fast similar to Mana Propulsion which is used by S Rankers.

Had the ceiling not been there, he would have shot straight into the sky, carried by the sheer force of his ability.

The thought sent a thrill through him—an exhilarating mix of possibility and danger.

But this time, he would control it.

Ashok exhaled slowly, centering himself. The ache in his skull had dulled, but the lesson remained sharp in his mind.

Recklessness had its price. Precision was key.

He would try again—but this time, he would dial it down.

Two Times.

His breath steadied. His pulse quickened.

No hesitation. No doubt.

The power surged through him, responding to his intent like an extension of his very will.

Gravity. Negative.

Ashok's legs lifted off the floor, the sensation far smoother this time. The speed was noticeably lower—controlled, deliberate.

He ascended steadily, counting the seconds in his mind.

One… Two… Three.

His head touched the ceiling. Unlike before, there was no violent crash, no skull-rattling impact.

Instead, his momentum slowed, and for a brief moment, it looked as though his head had simply stuck to the surface—his body pressing against it, unable to push further due to the reduced force.

But this time, he did something different.

With careful precision, Ashok tilted his legs backward, shifting his center of gravity. His body rotated, turning entirely until—

Now, he was sticking to the ceiling with his back, facing the floor below.

A grin spread across his face.

'I AM A NINJA BABY. WHOOOOOO!'

Excitement surged through him.

Flying was already exhilarating, but sticking to the ceiling? That was something he had never even imagined in his previous life.

Then, a thought struck him.

'No, wait—more than a Ninja… How about a Shinobi? Doesn't that sound cooler?'

He nodded to himself, fully convinced.

'Yep. Now I am a Shinobi.'

Lying upside down, defying gravity, Ashok basked in the sheer thrill of his newfound ability.