Secret Route: Villain Unlocked

Julien stood still for a few seconds, letting the morning breeze cool his nerves. The field was quiet, except for the wind brushing past overgrown grass. A few birds chirped in the trees beyond the boundary lines. He rolled his shoulders, planted his feet shoulder-width apart, and raised his right hand again.

Alright. One simple spell.

He focused on one of the most basic skills on Ian's list--[Ignition]. Low mana cost, a non-violent spell used for starting small fires. Just enough to spark a flame at the fingertips.

Mana gathered instantly. Surprisigly smooth for his first time.

The spell activated before he even finished forming the thought. A bright orange flame burst to life in his palm.

Julien stared at it. He hadn't even used the proper command phrase.

The fire hovered steadily, shaped perfectly round and flickering softly. It was stable. Controlled.

…Huh.

He tried extinguishing it. The flame vanished the moment he willed it.

Is this how Ian did it?

He repeated the motion. [Ignition]. Again, the spell launched faster than he could track. It was more like flipping a switch than charging up a skill. No slow channeling or waiting. The mana moved exactly where it was supposed to, like it already knew the path.

He frowned.

So the body remembers.

Julien decided to switch to something more advanced--[Flame Arc], a medium-level, short-range curve of fire meant for sweeping through enemies. Normally, a mage would need at least five seconds to channel it. But as soon as he aligned his stance and mentally reached for the pattern, the body adjusted on its own.

His hand moved before he told it to. Fingers spread, weight shifted slightly back, then forward.

A perfect curve of blazing fire cut through the air ahead of him, tracing the exact angle from Ian's memory.

No wonder he was the next big thing of the Marked world. I bet even the instructors aren't as quick as this.

Julien exhaled, eyes narrowing.

This wasn't raw instinct. It was closer to well-worn routine. The body, shaped by years of specific training, was filling in the gaps. Even without knowing the exact method, Julien's movements were being carried by the muscle memory Ian had built.

And it wasn't just the body--it was the mana too.

The flame bent cleanly, wrapped with refined compression. He didn't have to force it.

Julien looked down at his hand again.

Maybe I don't need to start from zero after all.

He moved onto [Burst Pillar], a vertical fire-spike used to hit larger enemies. It had a higher mana cost, but he wasn't concerned. Ian's reserves were massive--he could cast dozens of high-level spells before even dipping below half.

Julien picked out a patch of grass near a cracked rock and raised his hand.

This one required a bit more focus. The shape, the timing, the point of impact.

In an instant, his body stepped into position. Fingers curled, wrist angled slightly in, and mana surged.

A loud boom echoed as a pillar of flame erupted from the ground, rising six feet in a perfect line.

There was no wobble--no wasted energy. Just a clean, brutal upward strike.

Julien blinked.

That should've taken effort. At least some strain. But his hand didn't even tremble.

"...You're kidding me."

It was like the body wanted to perform. Like every motion, every movement had been drilled so deeply into Ian's being that it had become second nature--even if Julien was the one driving it now.

It was strange.

He'd never trained for this kind of fighting, barely even thought of the few spell skills he'd had. But the moment he even considered the spell, the body seemed to say I've got it.

Julien lowered his arm and stared down at the burned patch of earth.

So this is what a natural-born S-tier mage felt like. It's a lot different than being a melee one.

It was incredibly easy for him. But unfairly so.

He flexed his fingers once. The heat had already vanished.

"I don't even feel tired," he muttered. "How is that possible?"

His own style had always been about control. Force directed through the body, burst enhancements, tempo, footwork. He'd put endless practice into every kill. Now, all he had to do was think.

He took a few steps back and held out both hands this time. One spell in each.

Left hand: [Flame Thread], a shaping technique to control a lingering trail of fire.

Right hand: [Ignition], again.

The spells formed together without delay. The thread slithered outward, bending easily to his intent. The flame hovered with quiet readiness, waiting for command.

Julien swept his left hand gently across the air.

The thread followed, arching in immaculate spirals, completely under control. Not a flicker out of place. It wrapped once around a tree trunk, then around a loose boulder, before extinguishing in a smooth motion.

His right hand heated up again. Another [Ignition] formed.

He cancelled both spells with a thought.

This much control--was this really what Ian was capable of as a student?

Just thought, direction, and fire. He wasn't even using any enchanted gear--let alone a magic staff to help.

Julien was half-impressed, half-unsettled.

He could easily see how someone might get drunk on this.

When you don't need to fight for every inch… when your body handles everything for you… nothing's been even a small challenge so far. I'm not complaining, but what if I forget how to work hard, if everything is given to me?

This kind of magic didn't feel like effort. It felt like a special privilege.

Julien turned away from the burn marks on the ground, pushing the thoughts aside.

He needed to test something else. Range.

He raised one hand and focused again--this time on [Fire Lance], one of Ian's long-distance burst spells. High velocity, hard to dodge, good for starting engagements.

The moment he locked onto a far target, a stone pillar near the boundary line--the mana surged.

A bright streak of flame burst outward and slammed into the stone. The impact shattered part of the pillar clean through.

Julien flinched, just slightly.

That was stronger than expected. He hadn't even charged it properly.

"I've really got to stop being so surprised," he murmured. "No wonder we could never beat Inferno."

Everything was fast and sharp. He was barely scratching the surface and the damage was already too much for basic targets.

He looked down at his hand once more.

If this is what Ian had before he even hit his prime… no wonder Inferno wanted it so badly.

He lowered his hand slowly, the last echoes of the impact ringing out across the empty field.

The pillar smoked faintly. Chunks of stone littered the grass below it.

Julien stepped back. That was enough for now.

He'd confirmed it--this body wasn't just powerful, it was ready. Like a sword sharpened to perfection and placed gently in his hand. All he had to do was swing it.

The idea didn't comfort him.

He looked up. Tiny clouds drifted overhead, and sunlight was shining softly. The warmth on his skin didn't feel real.

Why me?

He wasn't even sure what he was asking. Why had the system brought him back? Why Ian's body? Why tell him Ian was a villain, when nothing in his memories hinted at that?

He could still feel them--flashes of late-night reading, happy laughter in study halls, peaceful mornings just like this one. Ian hadn't been a tyrant. Ambitious, sure. But as far as anyone--Julien included--knew, he was just someone who wanted to make the world a better place. 

He'd been killed before he could even begin to do that.

What could possibly push a kind soul like him to become evil?

The system message still echoed faintly in his thoughts. Villain Path – Ian Mooring.

It had to be wrong. But what if it was right, and the path started now?

Julien ran a hand through his hair, fingers dragging through strands that weren't his. His reflection in the academy mirror came back to him. Brown eyes. That polite, serene expression.

It really did feel like a disguise.

Eventually, he'd have to stop hiding in the woods like this. There were classes, instructors, students who expected Ian to act a certain way. And sooner or later, he'd slip. Miss a name. Use the wrong phrasing. Cast a spell with the wrong hand.

I'll have to learn everything he was, fast.

He turned back toward the dorm path, already planning out the rest of his day.

More spell practice in the early mornings. Observation during class. Maybe dig through some of Ian's old journals for anything useful.

He walked slowly, keeping to the shaded edge of the path.

Every step back toward the dorms felt heavier. Like he was walking deeper into someone else's shadow.

The system had called Ian a villain without hesitation.

But none of the memories Julien had seen supported that. Ian hadn't hurt anyone. He'd gone to classes, helped people. There was nothing evil in the way he lived. Not a single seed of darkness.

And then there was the obvious part.

Inferno killed Ian.

That much was public knowledge. Everyone knew it. The top student, a rising prodigy, stolen from the world just like that. It was the story that shaped everything that followed. Ian was the tragic beginning. Inferno was the disaster that followed.

So what was the system talking about? 

Or… had Ian almost become something worse, before his life was cut short?

That makes a little more sense. If someone like Ian, with all that power and potential, had been left unchecked… maybe things would've gone differently. Maybe the system had seen the path, even if Ian had never walked it.

It was still hard to believe. Ian had been his role model. Distant, but solid. One of those rare figures who seemed to walk through life without losing his footing. The kind of person you thought the world needed more of.

He didn't seem like someone who burned cities for fun.

Julien frowned as the spires of the academy came into view.

Either way, it didn't matter anymore. He had his body. His mana. His name.

If there had been a mistake, he'd fix it. If there had been a danger, he'd steer away from it. If Ian really had the potential to fall… then Julien would keep it from ever happening.

That was all there was to it.

Two students passed him on the trail. One gave a casual wave. "Morning, Ian."

Julien returned it automatically, the system nudging his response into place.

"Morning. Off to sparring class?"

A grin, a nod, and they jogged away.

He watched them for a second.

So far, it all looked peaceful.

But if the system had sent him here… there had to be a reason.