Damian walked out of the shooting range silently, his expression perfectly neutral.
But deep inside, he couldn’t stop the creeping sense of disappointnt from settling into his chest like a cold stone.
He was still human, after all.
Getting abandoned by one of his own teachers hurt more than he wanted to admit.
The rational part of his mind knew this was inevitable. He’d seen it coming from miles away the mont those videos started circulating.
His teachers were Nobles. His rivals were Nobles. His enemies were all Nobles.
Ever since arriving at this Academy, he’d been completely surrounded by this suffocating social construct. It was like a rope slowly tightening around his throat, getting closer and closer each day until he could barely breathe.
No matter how much he talked about treating everyone equally in his Mafia, the reality was that not a single Noble had ever joined his organization.
Not one.
They feared him. Respected his strength, maybe. But they would never follow him.
’I don’t understand this world sotis.’
In his old world, children weren’t dragged into this kind of political warfare. Sure, there were family businesses and legacy expectations, but not like this.
Here, the mont kids turned fifteen and awakened their abilities, they were imdiately shoved into a reality where all the comfortable illusions about a united human race living peacefully in the Earth Federation completely shattered.
Suddenly everything beca crystal clear.
No matter how hard you worked or how talented you were, you needed to attach yourself to certain families if you wanted to survive and advance.
Families who would use you for their own benefit without a second thought. Families who couldn’t tolerate so commoner being better than their carefully grood heirs.
Families who didn’t look at commoners as fellow humans but as servants and tools ant to be exploited in every possible way.
Their goal was never to make humanity stronger as a whole. They just wanted to maintain their position at the top of the hierarchy, regardless of how much everyone else suffered in the process.
They didn’t even care if humanity as a whole beca weaker and weaker.
’Would you care about how your property was feeling? Would you worry if your tools were happy?’
The answer was obviously no.
You’d only care about the price and quality. Whether it was worth the investnt or not.
Deep in these dark thoughts, Damian suddenly understood the fundantal ntality driving the Noble class.
Commoners were products. Nobles were buyers. The better the quality, the higher the price you could demand.
And people like Damian, who refused to be bought and sold, who broke the expected patterns and hierarchies?
They were defects in the system.
Errors that needed to be corrected or eliminated.
"So all these Academies, which supposedly started with the noble goal of supplying fresh warriors for the battlefields against Monsters, have sohow transford into conditioning centers where commoners are ant to be broken down and reford into obedient products."
Damian’s lips curved into a bitter, humorless smile as he walked aimlessly through campus.
His entire figure cut a strangely lancholic picture.
A powerful young man who’d just dominated three Imperial heirs, now wandering alone with slumped shoulders and distant eyes.
Sensing his turbulent emotions through their bond, Kuro materialized on his shoulder and looked directly into Damian’s eyes with unusual intensity.
The intelligence shining in the raven’s crimson gaze was almost unsettling.
Damian reached up to gently stroke Kuro’s dark feathers, finding comfort in the familiar gesture.
"Kuro... why does no world ever seem to have authorities that genuinely care for their people? I never understood it in either of my lives."
His voice was quiet, almost talking to himself.
"Is it because I was always an outlaw, always on the wrong side of the law? Or is there sothing fundantally broken about power itself?
Why do I consistently find more humanity in the eyes of so-called criminals than I ever see in those who hold authority and make the rules?"
Kuro didn’t reply with words, but his eyes beca even sharper, more focused, as if communicating sothing only Damian could understand through their connection.
"Right... You’re absolutely right."
Damian nodded slowly, a new determination forming.
"Why don’t we find out ourselves? When we’re the ones with authority, when we control everything, when we hold all the power in our hands... I guess we’ll finally have our answer to that question, won’t we?"
A genuine smile crossed his face, small but real.
"Maybe we’ll be different. Or maybe we’ll beco exactly what we hate. Only one way to know for certain."
Damian looked up at the cloudy sky overhead, his crimson eyes filling with sharp determination that cut through the earlier lancholy like a blade.
"So what if the Clubs Committee refuses to give us official resources? I’ll acquire everything we need through my own thods."
His voice grew stronger with each sentence.
"So what if those Imperial families pressure my teachers to abandon ? I’ll learn by myself. I’ve done it before."
"So what if I lose access to their precious skills and weapon arts? I’ll create my own techniques. Better ones."
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"I never wanted to get deeply involved in all this political garbage. This Noble versus commoner bullshit is exhausting and ti-consuming and completely pointless.
But ti and ti again, this broken system keeps standing directly in my way, blocking everything I try to build."
A cold laugh escaped his lips.
"I guess we really are enemies then. You people started this conflict. So don’t bla when I’m the one who ends it... I’m going to dismantle this entire corrupt system that you benefit from, piece by piece, until nothing remains."
Damian’s expression shifted, becoming distant as different thoughts warred in his mind.
"I was worried before about the bigger threats. The mutated beasts growing stronger. The Monsters beyond the portals. The calamities this world is supposedly going to face according to the stories that old beggar told in my past life."
He shook his head.
"But fuck all of that. I’m not a hero. I never wanted to be one. There are people far stronger than who can deal with those existential threats. People who actually get paid and respected for that kind of work."
His voice turned harder, more selfish.
"I’m just one person trying to survive in a world that keeps trying to crush . So like any smart survivor, I’ll focus on gathering resources and building power for when the real winters co. I’ll make sure my people and I survive whatever happens, and everyone else can fend for themselves."
The current Damian was a walking contradiction, though he didn’t fully realize it himself.
Ever since arriving in this world with mories of a completely different life, his mind had been occupied by too many conflicting thoughts and emotions.
He genuinely didn’t understand his own feelings half the ti.
Sotis he was genuinely kind, helping people selflessly like he’d done with the Mafia mbers yesterday.
Other tis he was an absolute maniac, torturing enemies with a smile on his face.
Sotis he wanted to be purely selfish and only look out for himself and his closest allies.
Other tis, whenever people approached him for help, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect them even when it brought him no benefit.
His moods shifted like the wind. His goals seed to change daily.
From start to finish, he himself didn’t truly know what choices he’d make in any given situation, what he genuinely wanted to accomplish, what he actually cared about deep down, or even what he really felt.
Everything about his identity was a mystery, even to himself.
Maybe... he was just a man who did whatever felt right in the mont, never questioning or analyzing his own motivations too deeply.
But there was one thing that had never changed across both his lives, one constant that burned like an eternal fla.
His hunger for power!
That desire blazed in his crimson eyes with intense fire that never dimd, never wavered, never died.
Everything else might be uncertain and contradictory and confusing.
But the need to beco stronger, to have enough power that nobody could ever force him into anything again?
That was absolute.
Damian stopped walking and looked at his own reflection in a window.
The face staring back at him was handso, mature, confident.
But the eyes seed ancient and... tired. Carrying weight that no teenager should possess.
"Let’s go, Kuro. We have work to do."
His voice was steady again, the mont of vulnerability passing like a brief storm.
"First Victor Cross and his pathetic attempt to ban the Mafia. Then we visit Tranquil City and speed up the territorial expansion. And after that..."
He smiled coldly.
"After that, we start building sothing these Nobles can’t ignore or suppress. Sothing so powerful they’ll regret ever trying to stop us."
Kuro cawed softly in agreent, his crimson eyes reflecting the sa determination.
Together, they walked toward the Student Council building, ready for whatever ca next.
The sadness and disappointnt were still there, buried deep.
But they were fuel now. Motivation and reminder of why power mattered.
Why he could never afford to be weak again.
Why he would burn down this entire corrupt system if that’s what it took to protect what was his.
The ga continued...
And Damian Valcor was done playing defense.
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