Secret Route: Villain Unlocked

"So," Amara said through a mouthful of bar, "did you hear about the gate expedition on Wednesday? They're taking the first years to explore their very first one. Apparently it's a big group, so they're recruiting people from our year to come help."

Julien looked up. "Gate expedition?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah, got mentioned at breakfast this morning. Some D-tier gate popped up east of the cliffs. The scouts took a look inside. They said there were plenty of monsters, but all weak ones. Instructors decided it's the perfect opportunity for the kids to 'get acclimatized.'"

"And that year group is too big for just instructors," Amara added. "So they want us to act as guides for them. You know, take a handful of kids and make sure they don't walk into a poison trap or get eaten by a bush."

Haley leaned forward, interested. "How many are going?"

"Almost all of them, from what I heard," Ray said. "Which makes sense, right? First gate's a big deal. They'll want everyone to go through the motions."

Oh, I remember this. There were some older students helping. Me and my friends got assigned to an instructor though, but still, it was pretty exciting. 

 A D-tier gate. Easy enough. But Ian had never been there. Not in his memories. It had been one of those unremarkable training exercises--the kind no one even thought about a few weeks later.

This didn't happen for Ian. If I choose to go now, something has to change. Who knows, this might set off a whole different chain of events, hopefully avoiding his "villain" or "dead" fates.

"I think I'll join," Julien said.

Amara looked surprised. "Didn't expect that from you. Aren't you usually too busy to concern yourself with little kids?"

"I just think it might be interesting," he replied evenly. "Besides, I think I've got some free time then anyway. Might be fun."

Ray squinted. "You really think a field trip with fifteen-year-olds'll be fun?"

Julien smiled. "You never know."

Haley tilted her head. "It's not a bad idea. I'll go too. Better than another double-length strategy lecture."

Ray made a dramatic groan. "Guess I'm in. If I get stuck with some crybaby toddlers, I'm blaming all of you."

"They're not ordinary students," Amara reminded him. "Asanel's the top Marked academy in Rainian, remember? They don't let in just anyone."

"Yeah, yeah," Ray muttered. "Still wouldn't mind a gate that doesn't involve babysitting."

Julien leaned back in his chair. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd spoken up so quickly. It wasn't [Character Guidance], since Ian probably wouldn't have thoughtlessly jumped in. Maybe something about the idea of doing what Ian never did made him feel... in control. Like he could rewrite things before they even began.

What if I was brought back as him not just to find out what really happened, but to keep Inferno from ever becoming a threat? 

"Sign-ups are tomorrow, I think," Haley said. "Instructor Wells said they'll assign groups to fifth-years based on ability and general temperament. Makes it easier to handle emergencies, if anyone panics."

Ray rolled his eyes. "What's the betting pool on how many kids try to 'accidentally' awaken something higher mid-gate?"

Amara smirked. "You mean like you tried to do in our first year?"

"That was research," he said firmly. "And it almost worked. But of course the instructor just had to see me at the worst moment."

Haley reached for another bar from the shelf, tossing it toward Julien. He caught it without thinking.

"You'll probably end up with one of the top groups," she said. "Maybe even the S-tier kid."

Julien paused. "That'd be interesting."

It makes sense. Put the strongest with the strongest. 

He remembered being with his friends that day, confidently powering through every enemy that came his way. They'd treated it like a game, back then. An easy sweep with a few good kills and a pat on the back from the instructor. They'd even made jokes on the way out, comparing their loot drops and arguing over who had the best score.

"Anyway," Amara said, brushing crumbs from her lap, "the weaponry's got a new shipment in. I was gonna head over, check if they've got any new mage staffs. Mine is pretty worn."

"Ooh, good idea," Haley said, already standing. "I need new arrowheads. Ray broke two of mine last week."

"They were in the way," Ray said, unapologetic.

"You threw your spear behind you."

"And it was still in the way."

Amara waved a hand. "Come on. Let's go before they get picked clean."

Julien followed as the group made their way down the corridors and outside to the path to the weaponry. A few other students passed them going the other way.

"They really are letting everyone sign up for the expedition, huh?" Ray muttered as they walked. "Even the ones who nearly failed battle tactics in the entrance exam."

"They'll be grouped carefully," Haley said. "And watched closely. Instructors aren't idiots."

"Still feels risky."

Julien stayed quiet, watching a younger student run past them, clutching a slip of paper and a wrapped pair of gloves. He looked maybe sixteen, excited.

That used to be me, Julien thought. S-tier, head full of theories, chasing assignments like they mattered more than anything else.

They stepped into the weaponry building. It was filled with noise--students calling out gear requests, instructors and professors inspecting enchantment marks, sparks flying in controlled bursts from behind reinforced glass.

Haley peeled away toward the archery racks, and Amara started asking a junior assistant about specialized staffs. Ray leaned on the counter beside Julien, drumming his fingers idly.

"So," he began. "You really gonna play mentor for a bunch of kids?"

Julien glanced at him. "Why not?"

Ray shrugged. "Just didn't expect it, that's all. You're already at the top. Feels like something the rest of us would do to look good on a report."

Julien gave a noncommittal hum and reached for a sheath of reinforced gloves from the nearby shelf. They were tagged for mid-tier swords and skills, standard-issue. Nothing special, but they looked usable. He turned them over in his hands.

"I'm not doing it for the report," he said. "Just want to help."

"Of course you do, Mr Saint," Ray repeated, laughing.

Before Julien could say anything else, Haley reappeared with a narrow box tucked under one arm. "Archery rack was almost empty, but I got the last of the good steelheads."

"Unfair," Ray said immediately. "I get blamed, but you hoard them like a dragon."

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if someone didn't treat my quiver like it's public property."

Julien set the gloves down and turned toward the back of the hall. A couple of instructors stood near a rack of prototype weapons, going over a clipboard and marking off test results. One of them--Instructor Ryllis, he realized--was the same one who'd taught him during that short archery elective years ago.

She was still the same. Sharp voice, sharper eyes. The kind of instructor who didn't tolerate half-effort.

Julien started to step toward her, then paused. She wouldn't recognize him as anyone but Ian. No shared memory, no connection. That was a strange thing to get used to.

Haley looked over, catching his change in attention. "Are you thinking of grabbing something new?"

"Maybe," Julien said. "I might as well check out what they have, while we're here."

"You're worse than Ray," Amara called from the staff counter. "At least he pretends it's for performance."

Ray grinned. "It is for performance."

Julien wandered toward the front racks, where rows of standard-issue swords were laid out in neat rows. Most were steel-forged, practical and well-maintained, without enchantments or mana circuits--just clean, sharp weapons for students who needed reliability over flash. Nothing fancy. In fact, his own first proper sword was just like them.

He stopped in front of a display of longswords, studying them silently. His fingers brushed the hilt of one, testing the weight without lifting it.

It felt familiar. But not in this body.

From behind him, Ray made a confused noise. "Wait, are you actually looking at swords?"

"Since when are you interested in those?" Haley asked. "You've never even taken any melee combat electives."

Amara joined them a second later. "Not that he could," she said, shrugging. "His arms are as thin as a pencil. They'd snap if he ever tried to seriously swing one."

Julien stepped back from the rack.

"I was only looking!" he protested. "Is that such a big deal? You guys are sooo judgmental."

"No, we aren't," Ray scoffed. "Just wondering why the guy who doesn't even need a mage staff is suddenly checking out a sword."

He walked away before they could press further. He could still feel the familiar shape of the hilt under his palm, though it hadn't even left the rack. That muscle memory didn't belong to Ian. But it hadn't vanished either.

Guess it takes more than a new body to unlearn a whole life.

At the counter, Amara had already started questioning the assistant about staff types, and Haley returned to comparing arrowheads. Ray muttered something about "sword phase crisis," but didn't bring it up again.

Julien just watched. He leaned against the far wall, hands in his pockets, observing the quiet flicker of mana through the display cases.

He could cast circles around most of the instructors now. But none of it was his.

It worked. The mana flow, the ambient sense of pressure, casting skills and spells--everything functioned exactly as it should. Ian's body was used to it all, down to the smallest twitch of a finger. Julien didn't have to force anything.

It's still wrong. What if I can't adapt fighting styles? I can fool them with words, but actions are something else entirely.

[Character Guidance] stayed active, smoothing every sentence. Nothing slipped. He smiled when they joked, nodded when expected, followed along without hesitation. 

So far, he was playing Ian without missing a beat.

The system had basically given him everything he needed. It acted for him, gave power for free. 

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

Julien hadn't earned any of it. The spells, the reflexes, the memory of how much mana each cast would take--they came automatically.

Though he'd been born with monumental skill, Julien had learned early on that talent meant nothing without effort. He'd seen others train every day, pouring their lives into growth, only to plateau at B-tier or below. That was why he'd always pushed himself--to prove he deserved to be strong.

But this strength wasn't his. It was Ian's. Years of control, calculation, refinement--earned through a different life. And now Julien had it all without lifting a finger.

I didn't build any of this, he thought. I just woke up and took it.

He clenched his hand. The mana still answered, sharp and obedient. It felt wrong.

He couldn't erase the unease. Like he was cheating someone out of what they'd fought to achieve. Even if Ian was dead, even if Julien had to take his place… that didn't make it right.

I have a feeling I'll be struggling with this for a while.