Transmigrated as the Villain: I Will Destroy Fate

"Rank 2?"

Ronan met Selene’s gaze without hesitation and nodded. "Yes, instructor."

The murmurs started immediately behind him.

The students of class S were shocked to hear what he had just said. Sure, most of them were rank 2 themselves, but before this Ronan had been the butt of many "weakest in the class" jokes. Him suddenly announcing he had reached rank 2 was a big deal.

Ronan ignored them, keeping his expression neutral while his mind worked through the implications.

He had been recorded as Rank 1 initial stage right before the Inter-Class War. Reaching Rank 2 in a few weeks was not impossible, but it was rare enough to draw attention.

Of course if they knew the truth, and that it had only really been in a matter of days, I’d be put under heavy suspicion.

Selene studied him for a long moment, her sharp gray eyes searching for deception or hesitation.

Ronan smiled and spread his hands slightly.

"I attribute it all to the Ashbourne family. My father was generous enough to provide me with a very powerful Rank 1 mana refinement skill. It boosted my progress tremendously."

The murmurs shifted. There was jealousy now, mixed with resentment. Ronan felt the weight of it press against his back, but he kept his focus on Selene.

She sighed, crossing her arms. "You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Ronan. I’m surprised you achieved this so quickly, but I’m proud of your progress."

"Thank you, Instructor."

Ronan inclined his head politely, then turned and walked back to his seat. The stares followed him the entire way.

All major rank advancements had to be reported to the Academy. Ronan had no intention of being caught lying later, so he had told Selene as soon as class began.

She likely was not suspicious about the speed itself – there were legitimate methods of accelerating growth at Rank 1, especially with family resources – but she was probably wondering why he had announced it publicly in front of the entire S-Class.

Ronan sat down and leaned back in his chair, already counting in his head.

How many duels will I be challenged to now, I wonder?

In all honesty, there was no reason to act like a background character anymore. Sure, that had been his original plan, but things changed. If the Demon Leech had not interfered – if he had obtained the Refinement Leech that day instead – he would still be following through with quiet advancement and strategic patience while not drawing attention.

But now he was on a countdown. Three hundred and ninety-three days until full assimilation.

There was no room for idly sitting.

Elara leaned over from the seat beside him, her expression caught somewhere between impressed and skeptical. "Congratulations on Rank 2."

"Thank you."

"Is it that pain-whatever skill you talked about before?"

Ronan confirmed it casually. "Pain-Tempered Circulation Technique."

Elara shook her head slowly.

"I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it." She paused for a second. "You’re tougher than you look."

"Why was that ever in question?"

Elara snorted. "You don’t want me to answer that."

––

The spar with Seraphina felt different today.

Ronan moved carefully, testing her rhythm as they circled each other in the training ring. She was distracted – her footwork was slightly off, her reactions a fraction slower than usual. It gave him openings he normally would not have.

He took them.

A low sweep forced her to step back. A quick jab slipped past her guard and tapped her shoulder. Another feint drew her attention left while he struck right, landing a solid hit against her ribs.

Seraphina blocked the next strike and pushed him back, breathing steadily but clearly more focused now. She paused, lowering her stance slightly.

"You’ve gotten better."

Ronan shrugged. "I ranked up."

"You’ve grown more resilient too."

"Same reason."

Seraphina shook her head, a faint smile pulling at her lips. "You shouldn’t be humble. These spars take place without mana. Only physical prowess."

Ronan did not respond immediately. Instead, he shifted the conversation before she could press further.

"The Runic Arts Club will be starting at the end of the week."

Seraphina raised an eyebrow, clearly interested by the sudden topic change. "Yes?"

"I wanted to confirm if you’ll still be attending."

Her smile widened slightly, though it did not quite reach her eyes.

"You want to see me that badly?" Seraphina teased, a rare moment of banter from her.

Most people would have stuttered, backtracked, or tried to deflect.

Ronan simply met her gaze and said, "I do."

Seraphina blinked, her expression flickering with something that might have been surprise. She recovered quickly, but the momentary crack in her composure was enough.

"Most people wouldn’t talk to a princess like that."

Ronan tilted his head slightly. "You also don’t joke around with most people."

Seraphina sighed, though the sound was more resigned than frustrated. She stepped back and adjusted her stance, signaling the spar was over.

"You’re right," she admitted quietly. "I suppose that makes us both strange."

Ronan did not disagree.

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of other students sparring filling the space between them. Seraphina’s gaze drifted toward the training hall’s far wall, her expression distant again.

"I’ll be there," she said finally. "At the club."

"Good."

Seraphina glanced at him, her lips curving into something softer than her usual polite smile. "You’re persistent. I don’t think I ever implied I was going to suddenly change my mind." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"You never know with the royal family and that they’ll make you do."

He was referring to the inter-class war, and she caught that, wincing slightly.

Then the smiled suddenly, laughing to herself. Waving him goodbye, she walked back toward the rest of the class, leaving Ronan standing alone.

He watched her go, cataloging the interaction in the same way he cataloged everything else. Seraphina Valon was politically important, emotionally isolated, and capable of becoming a powerful ally if handled correctly.

And she had just confirmed she would keep attending the Runic Arts Club.

Ronan allowed himself a faint smile before returning to his seat.

The rest of the class passed without incident. Selene drilled them through conditioning exercises, weapon drills, and another round of sparring matches. Ronan participated without complaint, though he noticed several students watching him more closely now.

Rank 2 had made him visible.

By the time Selene dismissed them, Ronan’s body ached in the familiar way that Steel Bone Armament demanded. The technique was working – his bones felt denser, stronger, more capable of handling the strain he put them through – but the process was not comfortable.

He left the training hall and headed toward the library, ignoring the whispers that followed him through the corridors.

The second heart beat steadily in his chest, hidden beneath skin and reinforced bone.

Three hundred and ninety-three days.

Ronan kept walking.

"Ronan, wait!"

He turned.

Grace Light stood there.

"Can we talk?"