Villain's Refund System: The Protagonist's Harem Is Mine

Halcrest’s assessment hall had six crystal pillars, four hundred occupied seats, and one enormous screen prepared to call Damien Trash again.

He waited beneath the central platform wearing fresh bandages around his ribs, ’nothing heals before the next public event, damn, this academy schedules humiliation faster than medical care.’

The Flood Line relic shard floated inside a glass case near three assessors, pulsing whenever Damien’s mana moved across the room.

Students filled every gallery after hearing the shard forced a public re-measure, while camera drones hovered above the first row.

Mina sat beside the platform with her jaw cut covered by a small amber patch, tapping one boot against the professor’s preserved rune plate.

’She brought the evidence here too, good, though Hallow skipped the ceremony, which feels cowardly even for a murderous thief.’

The lead assessor approached Damien carrying a white staff, with thin blond hair combed across a spotted scalp.

Garrick Vane had a long face above narrow shoulders, plus pale robes hanging loosely from a body built for chairs rather than combat.

His blue eyes avoided Damien’s bandages while the old Blood Ledger assessment glowed across the screen behind him.

[Damien Sterling]

[Registered Level: 38]

[Aspect: Blood Ledger]

[Tier: Trash]

"Lord Sterling, relic exposure may produce temporary inflation, so today establishes no permanent change in Aspect tier," Garrick said, lifting his staff.

"You wrote Trash in letters taller than yourself," Damien replied, glancing at the screen, "nervousness seems reasonable now."

Laughter moved through the upper seats before Garrick struck his staff against the platform, sending white rings across every crystal.

"Place both hands on the measure and release your current mana without using external amplification," he instructed, stepping aside.

Damien approached the central pillar while his public record remained frozen at thirty-eight above its clear surface.

’Level 151, I know the number, Mina sees something changed, yet watching their faces still feels completely necessary.’

He placed both palms against cold crystal and released one controlled pulse from his core.

The pillar flashed white, then every smaller crystal answered with a rising note that forced people to cover their ears.

[Measurement in progress]

[Level 62]

[Level 89]

[Level 118]

[Level 151]

The final number filled the enormous screen and burned bright enough to wash Garrick’s pale face blue.

Damien watched the assessor’s staff dip several centimeters, ’he wants that crystal wrong so badly, damn, public numbers really do improve honesty.’

Nobody laughed this time, though hundreds of phones lifted together while the camera drones rushed closer.

’Come on, old man, explain how Trash gained one hundred thirteen levels before your hair found a better hiding place.’

"The relic contaminated this reading, so another measure must happen without it nearby," Garrick said, reaching toward the emergency reset rune beside Damien’s hand.

Mina stood before he touched it, amber goggles lowered while her compact frame blocked the control plate.

"Contamination raised every stat proportionally and matched three independent helmet sensors," she said, displaying Flood Line telemetry above one palm.

"Student Park, unauthorized interference may suspend workshop access for the entire term," Garrick replied, keeping his staff between them.

"Nah, threaten something less useful," Mina said, sending the telemetry toward every public screen, "your first assessment missed an active combat Aspect."

Damien watched Garrick read the numbers beside his old signature, ’she is enjoying this far too much, good, somebody should.’

The second assessor cleared her throat and forced the central pillar through another scan without Garrick’s reset.

[Level Confirmed: 151]

[Aspect Tier Review: Mandatory]

[Public Record Updated]

Silver threading ignited around Damien’s left cuff, replacing [#388] while the live Board recalculated above the gallery.

[Ascension Board]

[#388 → #340]

Students near the front began replaying Bram’s defeat beside the Flood Line rescue, matching his new number against both impossible jumps.

"The rich idiot actually became dangerous enough to frighten old Vane," somebody whispered loudly from the western seats, earning nervous laughter around him.

Damien looked toward the voice and released the smallest touch of Dread Presence, making three nearby phones dip at once.

’That skill feels amazing, dangerous, probably unhealthy for friendships, but absolutely ridiculous.’

Garrick stepped backward before remembering the cameras, then tightened both hands around his staff.

"Your growth requires investigation before Halcrest recognizes any revised assessment," he said, forcing authority into each word.

"Investigate after changing the screen," Damien replied, nodding toward the giant [151], "it seems happier with accurate numbers."

The third assessor confirmed the update through his own crystal, removing Trash from the public display until formal review finished.

A system panel appeared beside Damien’s reflection across the central pillar’s polished surface.

[Public Re-measure Completed]

[Divergence: 4% → 9%]

[Correction Threshold Approaching]

The new percentage made Damien’s satisfaction disappear, ’five percent from one measurement, shit, apparently public face-slaps are expensive in reality damage.’

A support cable snapped above the eastern gallery before any warning reached the nearest students.

One camera rig dropped from the ceiling, its metal arm swinging toward a thin first-year standing beneath the Board screen.

The boy looked up too late, frozen beside his seat while three hundred kilograms of equipment fell toward his skull.

’Tovin, he never gets hurt here, I remember him dying years later inside Lucas’s border campaign.’

Damien triggered Flicker from the platform and crossed twenty meters through a broken double pulse, arriving beneath the falling rig.

He shoved Tovin across the seats and raised his saber while the metal arm crashed against its flat.

Pain drove Damien onto one knee, though Mina’s folding barrier opened above his shoulder before the second section landed.

The rig struck amber light and bounced toward empty chairs, crushing wood where Tovin had stood one heartbeat earlier.

"You could try surviving one public ceremony without collecting fresh injuries," Mina shouted, controlling the barrier through both hands.

"The ceiling started this fight, so please direct complaints toward academy maintenance," Damien replied, pushing the twisted arm aside as students scattered from the eastern gallery.

Tovin crawled back with sandy hair across his eyes, wearing the same oversized academy coat from the gala reaction clip.

"You knew my name, Lord Sterling, though we have never spoken before today," he said, staring at Damien while blood ran from one scraped cheek.

Damien felt another missing memory press behind his eyes, ’damn, wrong detail, now he notices, so give him something ordinary.’

"Your name is stitched inside that enormous collar where half this hall can read it," he replied, pointing toward the visible uniform tag near Tovin’s throat.

The boy checked it and flushed, though Mina’s amber eyes stayed on Damien with far less acceptance.

Imani reached the wreckage and examined its severed cable, then held up one blackened end toward the assessors.

"This support did not fail," she said, scraping a hooked mark beneath its casing, "somebody cut the inner braid before today."

Black residue moved inside the cable and vanished when daylight from the broken ceiling touched it.

’Correction pressure, it nearly killed a student who was never supposed to matter here, which means the story can spend anybody around me now.’

Damien rose beside the destroyed seats while the system displayed another academy notice across his sight.

[Sanctioned gang challenge]

[Bram Holt’s Clique vs Damien Sterling]

[Opponents: 5]

[Special Condition: No External Surrender]

Mina read the same public notice on her phone and swore, while cheers began in the upper gallery before debris stopped falling.

Damien looked from the five waiting names toward the blackened cable, then rested his saber against one shoulder.

’If Fate needs another public killing attempt, I will make sure the next Refund has five contributors.’