I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 145: Lilia’s Plan (2)

The weight of Ashok’s words rippled through the classroom, leaving many students stunned by his sheer bluntness.

In a single sentence, he had not only insulted Daniel, but had also grouped Lilia alongside him, referring to them as the same kind—a comparison that carried an unspoken but undeniable sting.

While some students were taken aback, the nobles observed with keen interest rather than shock.

Within the Empire, power was a delicate construct, carefully layered. At its pinnacle sat the Imperial Family, but beneath them, the Four Ducal Houses reigned as the greatest ruling forces, each controlling vast territories.

However, that did not mean the nobility below them were insignificant.

Every Ducal House maintained a network of vassals, a necessary hierarchy for governing an entire Duchy—lesser nobles who managed the smaller territories yet still held influence within political spheres.

Daniel belonged to one of these noble families—a County under the Northern Duchy.

Born into privilege, he had never faced opposition, his world shaped by status and inherited prestige. His high-standing birth ensured an upbringing bathed in luxury, his name alone opening doors without resistance.

He had always wielded his House’s reputation like a shield, accustomed to getting his way without question.

Yet now—he hadn’t even been granted the chance to announce his family name.

His entire identity, his authority, had been dismissed outright—reduced to nothing more than ’a dog drowning in lust’ before the entire class.

The insult rattled him.

His pride—so deeply ingrained in his upbringing—had taken a direct blow.

His fists clenched tightly, veins bulging along his forearm as the classroom echoed with laughter, the humiliation sinking in.

Daniel was not the type to play the gallant knight without reason.

His admiration for Lilia wasn’t mere infatuation—it was instinctive, undeniable.

Even without her charm, she was striking, possessing a beauty that rivaled the elegance of elves and the grace of the daughters of the Four Ducal Houses.

She commanded attention effortlessly, her presence woven into the very air around her.

Daniel had developed a crush on her immediately, falling for her at first sight during the Orientation Ceremony.

Yet, despite his intrigue, he hadn’t been able to speak to her yesterday.

Lyssa had been there—a silent force standing beside Lilia, and Daniel’s instincts screamed danger whenever he looked at that girl.

But he had not given up.

His plan was simple—wait until today’s class ended and finally introduce himself.

Except—Adlet had disrupted everything.

At every turn, Adlet had effortlessly drawn the attention of their teachers, shifting focus onto himself with infuriating ease.

It made Daniel’s hatred for him fester, growing with each passing moment.

Then came the moment that pushed him over the edge.

Daniel had watched Lilia initiate a conversation with Adlet, something he had desperately wanted for himself.

And when Lilia’s hand rested on Adlet’s shoulder, something inside Daniel snapped.

In silence, he took an oath.

’I will kill this guy the moment I get the chance.

He was ready—prepared to act the moment opportunity presented itself.

But then— Adlet did something that stunned him.

His sudden outburst toward Lilia caught Daniel off guard.

The instant Daniel saw Lilia’s eyes quivering, he knew this was his moment—his chance to step in, to confront Adlet.

And yet, to his utter disbelief, mere words from Adlet unraveled everything.

Daniel had expected a confrontation.

Not this.

Daniel’s fury burned within him, but as the words rose in his throat, he found himself unable to speak.

The reason was clear.

Those red, piercing eyes.

The glare bore down on him with a natural sense of oppression, something he found difficult to counter—a force not of sheer power, but of unrelenting presence.

His mind raced for a response, for a way to reclaim control of the situation, but before he could muster anything—

Another voice cut through the charged silence.

"Do you think you can walk away after saying that?"

The words carried a sharp edge, laced with unspoken danger.

Lyssa stepped forward.

The moment she did, an intense wave of killing intent flooded the classroom, cold and unforgiving.

The effect was instantaneous—the students nearest to her flinched, their bodies reacting before their minds could process the weight of the threat.

Lyssa had become the center of attention but in a different way.

Every gaze, except for a few, locked onto her, drawn in by the gravity of her aura.

Killing Intent was a Force Beyond Mana.

Killing intent was not magic. It did not stem from mana, nor was it something learned through theory or training alone.

It was an instinct, developed only by those who had surpassed their sense of guilt, who had embraced the act of killing as a natural part of existence.

And Lyssa’s killing intent was unlike any other.

Her history had long been etched in blood.

Trained as an assassin from childhood, she had taken her first life at seven.

By twelve, she had already executed over fifty targets—beyond that, she had stopped counting the lives that fell from her hands altogether.

She had become desensitized to the act, her acceptance of it growing sharper over time, until it was no longer a question of morality, but of efficiency.

Having trained under the greatest assassin in the world, Lyssa had refined her control to an extreme degree.

What she was revealing now—was merely the surface.

Lyssa’s emotion suppression unlike her mastery over the killing intent was still not somewhat lacking. Which was why she was angered that Adlet insulted her friend.

But despite her anger over Adlet’s insult, despite the sting of seeing her first friend treated this way, she had not lost herself to impulse.

She understood the lesson every assassin lived by—

The moment they lost control of their emotions, they had already lost the battle.

Leon’s brows furrowed as he sensed the icy wave of killing intent. Instinctively, his body tensed, his sense of duty urging him forward—he had to intervene.

But before he could make a move, a soft yet firm hand grasped his wrist.

Althea.

Her grip was steady, her expression unreadable as she whispered, "Wait. Don’t interfere right now."

Leon turned to her, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Why are you stopping me? She’s dangerous."

Raised in the Holy Church, Leon had been taught to protect others—to safeguard his people from threats, to never allow something as vile as unchecked killing intent to run rampant.

This was his Duty—as a Hero of Light.

Yet Althea simply stared at him, her gaze holding something that unsettled him.

’Is there something wrong with him? How can someone be so naïve’ she wondered, her thoughts colliding with the unwavering resolution in his face.

Instead of answering, she simply gestured toward Adlet.

"Just watch."

Leon, still uncertain, was on the verge of freeing his hand when a sharp voice cut through the space.

"As expected. Creatures of the same breed flock together—one barks for another."

Adlet’s tone was calm, yet the sharpness in his words left no room for misinterpretation.

His gaze was locked onto Lyssa, cold, unwavering—not once shaken by her killing intent.

Because he didn’t feel it.

Killing intent was a mental domination technique, its force meant to invade, overwhelm, and cripple.

While it did nothing physically, its psychological effect was undeniable, inducing terror, shaking resolve, crushing weaker minds under its sheer weight.

Yet Ashok stood unmoved.

Because he was untouched by all forms of domination.

The Blessing made sure of that.

Lyssa was not surprised that someone within the Aether Class could endure this level of killing intent.

But endurance was one thing—resistance was another.

Her mastery was impeccable.

With surgical precision, she redirected her once scattered killing intent, concentrating it into a single, razor-sharp point, aimed directly at Adlet’s neck.

She amplified the intensity, yet concealed it so flawlessly that no one else in the room felt a shift.

There were no ripples, no residual traces—nothing to suggest that the threat had drastically increased.

It was the mark of a true assassin.

Yet Adlet remained unchanged.

Ashok saw nothing different—no illusions, no oppression, no terror.

The only thing that caught his attention was Lyssa’s darkening gaze, the predatory gleam fixating itself at his neck.

But aside from her glaring intensity, he felt nothing.

No pressure. No fear. No weight.

And then—his voice cut through the air, sharp and mocking.

"Hey, Mutt."

His words were directed at Daniel, but carried a deliberate sting.

"Looks like you found another one in heat."

The insult landed effortlessly.

Daniel’s anger surged further, his fury boiling over as the laughter in the class increased, but it was Lyssa who suffered the greater shock.

She felt a rare sensation creeping into her thoughts—doubt.

’Is he not seeing illusions?’

Lyssa’s mind raced. Her skill was flawless.

She had tested it countless times, perfected it through years of assassin training.

She was certain she could kill a C Ranker if she went all out—an E Ranker defeating a C Ranker was something unheard of, an extraordinary feat.

Her killing intent was not just an intimidation tool—it was a weapon.

In direct confrontations, it allowed her to force illusions onto her opponents, making them see her slaughtering them, overwhelming their senses, crushing their ability to react—while she slipped behind them for the real kill.

Yet now—it wasn’t working.

Her greatest strength—her perfected ability—was failing.

And the target was Adlet, someone she could clearly see was weak.

His body was full of openings, an prey so easy that she could kill with her eyes closed.

’But then how’ Lyssa couldn’t understand it.

How could someone this weak simply ignore her killing intent—as if it didn’t exist?