"Gaaah!"
Opening his eyes, Chase was greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling.
He jolted upright in bed, his hand pressed tightly to his bruised throat as if hoping to muffle the gasp that had already escaped his lips.
His thumb felt the erratic pulsing of nerves in the side of his neck.
He kept his hands in place until his heart finally calmed down a little, or at least that's what he told himself.
Disgusted by the way the damp fabric clung to his sweat-soaked skin, Chase peeled the sheet from his chest. As soon as his feet touched the cold, hard, marble ground, an image popped up in his mind.
The infirmary bed crackled under his shifting weight as he stood up.
"Th-That bastard…."
Recalling the events of the Triple Threat match, a shiver ran across Chase's spine. Until today, he had no idea he was this powerless.
He knew he wasn't the strongest... But to experience such embarrassment at the hands of the person he so much wanted to put in place?
"True Martial Aura! That bastard used the True Martial Aura! He won only because of his master, Leo Kurogami! Yeah, if I had a master like him, I would've won easily…"
Chase realized how stupid he sounded in the middle of uttering that sentence. His words turned to a whisper as he dropped his head in shame.
Sure, Leo Kurogami might have taught him how to use Martial Aura, but the True Martial Aura could only be achieved after deepening one's understanding of their own body and mana.
Some people took half their lifetime to achieve that level of understanding, not because it was overly difficult, but because they didn't practice enough.
For those who practiced daily and strived to reach that understanding, using True Martial Aura would only take a few years at most.
However, if Lucas was truly a "trash" and hadn't practiced Martial Aura before coming to the academy, then he was simply a genius to achieve it in such a short time.
Normally, Chase would've tried to refute that fact. He would've said that Lucas was only acting to seem like trash when, in reality, he never abandoned his training.
Then he might've added, "He could've done something like that too if he had a big family like the Morningstars backing him up."
But this time, Chase didn't say such things. For some reason, he just knew that the person he faced in the Triple Threat, if he could even be called a person, was on a completely different level than him.
They were of the same height, Lucas and Chase. However, as Chase remembered how he had tried with all his might to thrash at the Morningstar's face, only to be met with cold indifference in Lucas's eyes, he felt small.
It was almost as if Lucas was looking down on a creature too puny for him to be of any real concern.
Was he… Was Chase really not a threat to him? Well, turns out he was not.
It was as if he, an ant, was trying to go up against… a god. The way Lucas stared at him made him feel utterly insignificant, sending shivers down his spine.
"Damn it!" Chase cursed out loud, clenching his fists in frustration. This was humiliating and not to mention utterly frustrating.
As he was lost in his thoughts, the door to the infirmary swung open, and medics rushed up to him, gently pushing him back onto the bed, resuming their check-ups despite his protests that he was fine.
The infirmary room was divided into compartments, each containing a bed and curtains for privacy.
A few beds away from Chase, in one such compartment, lay a lithe young woman with a fractured nose.
Her nose was wrapped in bandages, and minor injuries were already healed after she drank a few healing potions.
Her long hair, each strand resembling the shine of melted silver, was tied in a graceful braid.
Her porcelain skin, smooth as the finest of jade, peeked through some areas of her ragged combat attire.
"Haaa," Trish let out a soft, tired sigh.
Chase wasn't the only one reflecting on the Triple Threat match. Trish was also doing the same.
She hadn't been beaten like that in a long time, especially by someone around her age.
It must have been the first time since she mastered the [22-Movement Plum Blossom Petal Sword]—one of the strongest and most versatile weapon arts her Sect had to offer.
She rigorously trained every single day, striving to become better and stronger to catch up to her brother.
Yet, despite her efforts, she couldn't achieve that goal. To add insult to injury, a boy a year younger than her defeated her in a head-on confrontation.
However, instead of feeling sad or angry, Trish couldn't help but be impressed by the technique displayed by the silver-haired Morningstar during the match.
Not only that, but he had subtly led her into a deliberate trap, not once but twice. Amidst the intense battle, he executed all his plans with sheer perfection.
It was almost to the point of being terrifying.
He was... He was...
"So cool."
Indeed, he was cool, but that's not the sole reason why Trish's mind was preoccupied with the charming young wolf.
His fighting style clearly revealed the vast battle experience he had accumulated, whether he did so by fighting for his life or fighting against his own master.
After all, it is as the elders of her clan say— "One real battle experience is better than a thousand days of safe training."
Or something along that line. She never paid attention to those old fools really.
Anyway, her loss wasn't due to her technique being weaker than his; on the contrary, it was stronger. The difference lay in her lack of battle experience.
No one in her clan or her brother showed enough interest to train with her. Her peers, for the most part, weren't strong enough to provide her with meaningful experience.
She needed to face opponents stronger than her, not weaker. She needed to fight up to get stronger, not fight down.
As for the Disciplinary Committee, it was led by her brother, making her an outcast there too. To top it all off, she had no friends, so she couldn't even find suitable sparring partners.
Her technique and battle arts had carried her this far, but now she found herself standing in front of an insurmountable wall.
"Haaa," she sighed, covering her eyes, and decided to try falling back to sleep, knowing full well that it would be futile.
†
While his opponents were lost in their thoughts, Lucas reclined on the sofa, watching a video on the holographic screen in front of him.
Sera, still sound asleep, was resting in his lap. Turns out, this little one was as lazy as him. After all, if given a chance, he would also spend all day sleeping like a sloth.
Ahh, surely that was a coincidence and not at all his fault, right? …Right?!
Suddenly, he closed the holographic screen and covered his face with his hands. His body convulsed in visible agony, not from physical pain, but from cringing at his own clip.
The video he had been watching was of his Triple Threat match, where people in the comments referred to him as the "Fallen Angel" due to his charm and aura.
However, that wasn't what made him cringe.
"You must be itching to court death?! Why the fuck did I say something like that?! Am I an idiot?! Or have I actually become a third-rate villain?!"
Well, to be honest…
After some reflection, he realized that he possessed all the qualities of a third-rate villain:
Seeing ordinary people as far beneath him as he was some sort of a self-proclaimed holy being.
His unrelenting narcissistic behavior.
Referring to others as mere side characters.
Maniacally laughing at others' suffering.
Being the cause of others' misery.
And now, he was even collaborating with other villains like Kai and Quinn while also planning to create trouble for the protagonist.
"Wait... What the heck?! Am I actually a third-rate villain?!"
Well, it took him a long time to realize that.
