I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 185 - 185: Welcome Party (3)

"She is the daughter of the Sword Emperor."

"It's no surprise she holds the First Rank of our year."

"True talent really lies in the bloodline."

The whispers spread like wildfire, weaving through the crowd as students exchanged glances, their voices hushed yet brimming with fascination.

The name of the Sword Emperor was not one uttered lightly—it carried weight, reverence, and an undeniable sense of history.

His legend had long since transcended the boundaries of nobility and common birth; whether one hailed from a grand estate or a humble village, all knew of the man who stood at the pinnacle of strength.

The Strongest Ascended.

One of the Five Heroes who had vanquished the Demon King.

Valencia stood at the front of the everyone stood on the chair, poised yet inwardly bracing herself against the inevitable tide of speculation.

Though her expression remained composed, the subtle tightening of her jaw betrayed her thoughts. She had expected this reaction the moment she accepted the role of Host for the Welcome Party.

The weight of her father's name was not one she could easily escape, and though she had long since grown accustomed to the murmurs, the way they clung to her like an unshakable shadow still left a bitter taste.

Valencia had spent her entire life in the shadow of her father's legacy.

From the moment she first grasped a sword, she had been measured against him—his strength, his mastery, his legend.

As a child, she had watched him practice his Sword Art, mesmerized by the way his blade moved, fluid and precise, no different from a beautiful dance.

The first time she saw it, something stirred deep within her—a longing, a quiet yearning. She wanted to wield the sword just as he did.

She wanted to move with the same grace, the same effortless power. His movements had reminded her of a bird soaring through the vast sky, unbound and free.

But the moment she picked up the sword, reality struck.

The freedom she had seen in that dance—the boundless sky, the weightless flight—was nowhere to be found.

Her blade felt heavy, her movements rigid. No matter how hard she trained, she could not replicate the effortless grace she had admired.

And soon, she realized that the only thing surrounding her was not the open sky, but the relentless gazes of scrutiny.

Eyes that expected. Eyes that judged.

Eyes that demanded she move forward, whether she wished to or not.

Valencia exhaled, pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind. She had long since accepted that those eyes—the weight of expectation—were a part of her destiny, something she could never break free from.

"Everyone, please pay attention!"

The murmurs gradually faded with Valencia's words, her presence commanding quiet attention. With practiced composure, she began to speak.

"I would first like to mention that the organizer of this Welcome Party, the First Rank among the Third Years, along with several others from his year, will not be attending due to unforeseen circumstances. In his absence, I will be serving as the host for tonight's gathering."

"I wholeheartedly welcome all of the freshers of the Aether Class to the dormitory. I hope each of you finds joy in your Academy life, makes lasting memories, and cherishes the friendships you forge here."

"Now, I won't take up much of your time tonight, as I'm sure everyone has classes to attend in the morning. Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy the food."

With that, Valencia concluded her speech, stepping down from the chair with quiet precision.

Though her words had been brief, there was an abruptness to her ending—an unspoken thought that she wanted to speak out but left hanging in the air.

Yet no one questioned it.

As she moved away, the music resumed, filling the compound with lively melodies.

Conversations sparked once more, laughter rippling through the crowd as the festive atmosphere returned.

Valencia drifted toward the food counter, her expression composed, a practiced smile resting on her lips.

Yet beneath the surface, she felt the weight of exhaustion pressing against her thoughts.

She had played her part, spoken the words expected of her, but the moment the speech had ended, the desire to leave had settled deep within her.

She had no interest in lingering within this façade any longer.

Just as she reached the counter, two Third-Year students stepped into her path, blocking her way with casual confidence.

"At the end, Valencia, you weren't able to introduce our new rookies to the rules," one of them remarked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Even after the Prince personally asked you to," the other added, his tone laced with amusement.

Valencia's gaze remained steady, her posture unwavering. She had expected this.

"I was asked to be the host for the Welcome Party by the President," she replied, her voice calm yet firm. "Secondly, maintain the decorum inside the Academy—titles such as Prince or Princess hold no value here. And as for the rules…" She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

"I don't recall the President ever informing me that I was required to speak about those so-called rules."

The Third-Year student snickered, his amusement barely concealed.

"Isn't it the job of the host to introduce the guests to the rules? Or do you personally want the Prince to explain everything in writing?"

His words dripped with mockery, but the moment they left his lips, the atmosphere shifted.

Valencia's expression, which had remained politely composed throughout the evening, suddenly sharpened.

The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, piercing gaze that made the two Third-Years instinctively flinch.

"Don't forget," she said, her voice steady, carrying an unmistakable edge, "just because I am currently acting as the host doesn't mean I have forgotten my usual duties. Now, I would like some space."

The student who had spoken opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, his companion placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

With an easy, almost exaggerated smile, he said, "Sure. Enjoy the night and don't forget the meal."

With that, he stepped aside, giving Valencia the space she had demanded.

As she walked past them, the first student turned to his friend, irritation flickering across his face. "Why did you let her leave after she threatened us?"

The Third-Year student scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation.

"You fool. Even the Prince keeps an eye on her. Don't forget—she's the only one in the entire Second Year whom the Prince has exempted from the rules. What do you think he'll do if he finds out we ended up picking a fight with her?"

His friend fell silent, the weight of those words settling in.

The lively hum of the party continued around them—music playing, laughter echoing—but between the two, the atmosphere had shifted.

Then, after a brief pause, he asked, "Then what about the rules?"

The smirking student leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, though his confidence remained unwavering.

"The Prince already expected this outcome. He told me that if Valencia refused to introduce the rules, then we would have full authority to do so ourselves—however we see fit."

A slow grin spread across his friend's face, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "So, what are we waiting for?"

"What's the rush?" The Third-Year drawled, his smirk deepening with idle confidence. His voice carried a glint of mischief, curling at the edges with amusement that didn't quite reach his cold, calculating eyes.

"Round up the Third Years. Quietly. Tell the Seconds to start corralling the First Years into one place—but make it look natural. Casual. No one should suspect a thing."

He paused then, the corners of his mouth lifting further into something far too precise to be a smile.

"After all," he said, voice low and full of dangerous delight, "big surprises should always arrive with a bang."

His companion gave a single nod—nothing more was needed.

Without a word, he slipped away, moving through the crowd with the ease of someone who had learned long ago how to disappear in plain sight.

Third Years answered the quiet summons.

The Second Years, practiced in subtle obedience, gently redirected First Years with casual remarks and friendly gestures—herding them with the precision of a well-rehearsed maneuver.

It was so seamless, so natural, that no one even noticed the shift in the crowd's rhythm.

All according to plan.

Valencia stood at the far end of the hall near the long banquet table. Her gaze was distant, fixed not on the party but on something far heavier.

She had tried to speak out—tried to voice her concerns about the Academy's twisted hierarchy, where rank mattered more than reason, and cruelty was cloaked in tradition.

She still remembered the frigid voice of her instructor, the way those sterile words had gutted all hope of justice:

"The Academy does not intervene in matters between students. If you have grievances, request an official duel."

Valencia knew all too well the Academy's stance on intervention.

They only enforced rules when it came to classroom discipline or the preservation of Academy facilities.

Beyond that, students were left to their own devices—free to do as they pleased, so long as they didn't engage in open combat using Energy.

She was no stranger to the fractured state of the Wyrd Class.

It was a chaos barely concealed beneath polished uniforms and forced smiles.

She had done her best to hold things together, to maintain some semblance of order amidst the brewing tensions. But she was only one person—and even her strength had limits.

And then there was the Prince.