A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

"Report."

Valeria’s voice was calm, but her eyes were not. They moved over Andras from head to toe, taking in the blood staining his clothes, the cuts across his body, and the sword hanging at his side.

Andras glanced at the students surrounding the training hall. Dozens of eyes were fixed on him. Some were frightened. Others were curious. Seraphina stood among them, her sapphire eyes locked onto him with an intensity he rarely saw from her.

Andras turned his attention back to Valeria.

"The transition happened without warning," he said evenly. "One moment Romeo and I were inside the training hall. The next, we were somewhere else."

"Describe the location."

"A stone corridor. Blue crystals were embedded in the walls. They provided the only source of light."

"Creatures?"

"There were many."

"What kind?"

"I don’t know their names. They had gray bodies, claws, and stone-like hides."

"How strong?"

"The first ones were weak. They became stronger as we moved deeper."

Valeria’s expression remained unchanged. "And then?"

"We reached a large chamber with a sealed stone door. Behind it was a creature far stronger than the rest. We fought it. Romeo was already badly injured by the end. He didn’t survive. After the creature fell, an exit formed, and I returned."

A murmur spread through the students. Valeria ignored it.

She studied him for a moment longer. "You were lucky."

"Perhaps."

Andras offered nothing more. The explanation was simple and believable. Romeo had entered an unknown space with him, fought a powerful monster, and died. There was no reason to invite deeper questions.

Valeria glanced toward the unstable portal behind them. "Anything else worth noting?"

"The corridors were nearly identical throughout. The creatures appeared in groups, and their strength increased the deeper we went. Nothing else stood out beyond the final creature."

Valeria nodded, then turned toward the students. "Everyone move away from the portal. Do not approach it or touch it. Until we understand what caused these anomalies, no student is to go near it."

The students obeyed at once.

Valeria looked back at Andras. "You’re coming with me to the Headmistress."

Andras nodded and followed her out of the training hall.

---

The corridor outside was quiet. Their footsteps echoed against the stone floor.

As they walked, Andras turned his attention inward.

*System.*

[Yes, Host.]

Why couldn’t I devour the ordinary monsters?

[Ordinary dungeon constructs do not possess a valid living soul. Talent signatures present in such entities are artificial projections without a true origin. Devouring requires a transferable essence.]

Andras considered the Grayclaws. Their bodies had been real enough. They bled. They died. Yet the System had found nothing it could take.

What about the boss?

[Boss-class entities may contain a stabilized core sufficient for partial transfer. Conditions for successful devouring appear linked to that distinction.]

Then what determines whether a core is valid?

A brief silence followed.

[Insufficient data.]

His eyes narrowed. *You don’t know.*

[Correct. Current authorization and recorded parameters are incomplete.]

Interesting. Even the System had limits. The dungeon’s ordinary monsters possessed artificial talents, while the boss had contained something stable enough for the System to recognize and extract. Perhaps the dungeon wasn’t simply creating bodies. Perhaps it was constructing something closer to life—something that could imitate a living being without actually possessing a living soul.

Andras filed the thought away. Speculation without evidence was useless. But one thing was certain: the dungeon was an anomaly, and even the System didn’t fully understand it. That made it worth remembering.

---

They reached the Headmistress’s office. Valeria knocked twice.

"Enter."

A calm female voice answered. Valeria opened the door, and Andras followed her inside.

The office was spacious without being extravagant. Bookshelves lined one wall. A large window overlooked the academy grounds. Several magical instruments rested neatly across a long wooden table.

Behind the desk sat a woman who appeared to be in her late thirties. Andras immediately suspected the appearance was misleading. She was tall even while seated, black hair gathered into a precise coil with several strands of silver running through it. Her eyes were the color of tempered steel. There was nothing excessive about her—no jewelry, no elaborate decorations—only the academy crest against her clothing.

Then Andras noticed her hand. A faint scar crossed the back of it. Not a training injury. A battlefield scar. This woman had fought, and she had survived.

Valeria stepped forward. "Headmistress."

"I’ll leave you two to speak."

Valeria glanced at Andras once, then left. The door closed behind her.

"Calista Veyne," the woman said. "Headmistress of Ambrose Academy." She gestured to the chair opposite her. "Sit."

Andras sat. "Andras Darkmoor."

A faint smile touched her lips. "I know. Tell me what happened."

Andras gave a condensed version of the same account—precise, controlled, and free of anything that would invite unnecessary scrutiny. Calista listened without interruption. When he finished, she leaned back slightly.

"Count Ravenhart will need to be informed."

"Understood."

Her expression softened by the slightest degree. "I am glad you returned safely."

Andras raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected.

"Are you surprised?"

"Somewhat."

Calista studied him. "Hasn’t your mother told you?"

"Told me what?"

Genuine amusement appeared in her eyes. "I taught Evelyne for a short period."

Andras’s expression barely changed. Internally, his thoughts sharpened. Evelyne had never mentioned this. Not once. The original Andras’s memories contained nothing about Calista either. That made the revelation more significant than it first appeared.

"She was younger then," Calista continued. "Ambitious, stubborn, and far more reckless than she is now. But she was talented. More importantly, she was obsessed with understanding her own limits. Our talents had certain similarities. That was what brought us together. I helped her refine her abilities for a few months. Nothing more."

"And no one knew?"

"Only Evelyne and me." Her gaze rested on him. "She never told you?"

"No."

"Interesting. Then she must have had her reasons. Evelyne has always been selective about what she shares."

Andras said nothing. His mind was already working through the implications. A powerful figure like Calista Veyne had personally instructed Evelyne, yet neither the original novel nor the memories he inherited had contained any trace of it. That meant other hidden relationships and events could exist entirely outside both sources.

A useful reminder.

Calista noticed his expression. "You really didn’t know."

"No."

She smiled faintly, then reached into a drawer and placed a small glass vial of pale green liquid on the desk. "Drink this. Your injuries aren’t severe, but there’s no reason to leave them untreated."

Andras accepted the vial, removed the stopper, and drank. Warmth spread through his body as the dull pain from his wounds faded. He set the empty vial down.

"Thank you."

"You should rest."

"I will."

He stood and had almost reached the door when she spoke again.

"Andras."

He turned.

"Whatever happened inside that place... be careful."

Andras looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "I always am."

He left.

---

By the time Andras exited the academy building, evening had settled over the grounds. The sky was painted in orange and violet. Most students had already returned to their dormitories, leaving the paths unusually quiet.

He walked toward his room.

Then his stomach growled.

He stopped. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Apparently, even surviving a dungeon and killing a Class B monster couldn’t suppress something as primitive as hunger.

He continued walking.

"Andras."

A familiar voice came from behind. Silver-blonde hair caught the fading light as Seraphina approached. Her usual composed expression remained, but her eyes were softer than usual. Concerned.

She stopped in front of him. "You really are unharmed."

"Yes."

Silence settled between them. Andras studied her. She seemed more unsettled than she was willing to show.

"You wanted to say something?"

Seraphina looked at him. "When you disappeared... I wanted to go after you."

Andras raised an eyebrow. "You did?"

"I didn’t know what was on the other side." Her voice remained calm, but a faint strain ran beneath it. "I still wanted to."

"That would have been reckless."

"I know."

"Then why?"

She fell silent for several seconds before answering.

"Because you were there."

Andras’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She looked away. "I didn’t know whether you were alive. And I didn’t want to find out that I had stood there and done nothing."

Andras said nothing at first. He understood the reasoning. She had been worried. That much was clear. Still, the directness of the admission was more than he had expected from her.

"You made the correct decision by staying behind," he said.

Seraphina looked back at him. "Perhaps. But I still hated waiting."

"Waiting is sometimes more useful than acting."

"You’re surprisingly good at saying things that make people feel worse."

"Was that my intention?"

"No."

"Then it wasn’t successful."

A faint smile appeared on her lips. "Perhaps not."

The tension between them eased. She looked at him again. "You should rest tonight."

"I was planning to eat first."

Seraphina blinked. "Eat?"

"I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

For the first time that evening, genuine surprise crossed her face. "You went into an unknown place, fought monsters, nearly died, returned covered in blood... and your first concern is food?"

Andras considered the question. "Currently, yes."

She shook her head. "I don’t know whether to admire that or worry about you."

"You can do neither."

"Too late."

Andras looked at her for a moment, then turned toward his room. "You should rest as well."

Seraphina nodded. "Andras."

He stopped.

"Don’t die."

The words were simple. Andras glanced back at her. Her sapphire eyes met his violet ones. For a moment, neither spoke.

Something about the request lingered longer than it should have. It was unnecessary. He had no intention of dying in a place like that, or anywhere else, if he could avoid it. Yet the way she said it—quiet, direct, without ornament—made it harder to dismiss immediately.

He gave a faint smile. "I have no intention of doing so."

He turned and continued walking. Behind him, Seraphina remained still.

Andras did not look back.

The dungeon had given him a new talent, a new mystery, and removed one of his problems. Yet as he walked away, one thing remained strangely persistent in his mind.

Don’t die.

He still could not determine why those words stayed with him.

So he did what he always did with things he did not yet understand.

He filed them away.

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