I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 208 - 208: Endurance Training (2)

"Mr. Special, you're here too?"

Ashok didn't even need to turn around to identify the voice that reached his ears—familiar, persistent, and accompanied by the faint sound of approaching steps that could only belong to one person.

He let out a silent sigh, the kind that escaped when patience wore thin but words were still holstered.

He kept his gaze fixed forward, giving no reply, as if the surrounding breeze and open training field demanded all of his concentration.

'Here comes another headache,' Ashok thought, exhaling silently through his nose.

The voice was familiar, too familiar—one of those voices that made your spine itch before you even turned around.

He didn't respond.

His gaze remained fixed ahead, steady and unmoved, as though he hadn't heard a thing instead he found the morning breeze that stirred faintly at his sleeves more interesting than the voice.

For a brief moment, he entertained the hope that silence might be mistaken for deep concentration.

No such luck.

The footsteps approached with a casual rhythm, growing clearer with each step.

The voice grew closer, undeterred by the silence. "Mr. Special, are you ignoring me? Me, after I went out of my way to deliver your message to the Seniors? I thought we were friends now?"

Ashok turned, not quickly—just enough to show he was listening now, though not particularly thrilled about it.

His eyes fell on Gideon, like someone who thought every conversation was an invitation.

And behind him, the real weight of the moment arrived.

Leon. Zog. Mira. And just a few paces behind, Varnok—each of them already scanning the field as they closed the distance.

'Perfect,' Ashok muttered inwardly, shoulders tensing just slightly.

'One summons five. My luck really is in top form today.'

It wasn't that he feared them.

He simply preferred his mornings without a cluster of main characters suddenly materializing around him like moths to a low-burning flame.

"Hello? Hello? You there?" Gideon waved a hand comically close to Ashok's face, his fingers slicing through the air with the enthusiasm of someone ringing a bell in a quiet library.

Ashok lightly swatted Gideon's hand away, which had drifted far too close to his face for comfort.

"It seems you don't understand the concept of personal space?" he asked flatly, his eyes narrowing just a little as they settled on Gideon.

"Hehe!" Gideon let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his hand as if Ashok had swatted him with more than just a flick.

He didn't look offended—more like someone used to being shooed away and somehow still amused by it.

Ashok's gaze shifted slightly, his peripheral vision catching a flicker of surprise.

Three pairs of wide eyes were fixed on him, their expressions identical in disbelief—Zog, Mira, and Varnok.

They stood frozen, as if seeing a statue suddenly move and speak.

The fourth, however—Leon—had already turned his head to the side, jaw set, refusing to make eye contact.

He stood stiff, arms crossed, clearly wanting no part of the conversation. His silence wasn't passive.

It was a quiet protest about yesterday night, he simply showed that he did not want to talk to someone who talks about murder and then turn it into casual jokes.

Zog leaned toward Mira, cupping his hand around his mouth like a child sharing forbidden gossip—though the gesture was pointless, considering everyone could hear him.

"Sister, did you hear that guy just spoke normally?" he whispered—not quietly enough.

Gideon snickered quietly at Zog's remark—he, too, had been caught off guard yesterday when he first discovered that Adlet could understand and respond like a normal person.

'These brute bastards,' Ashok cursed inwardly, his expression calm but his thoughts simmering. Gideon, at least, was predictable.

That guy's entire personality revolved around sticking his nose in other people's business just to see what would happen—a walking annoyance not far off from Elara in that regard.

But what really grated on Ashok was seeing even the beastman and the Barbarian gawking at him like he'd just grown a second head.

'What kind of image have they conjured up in those thick skulls?' he wondered, exasperated. If someone like the Barbarian—whose brain likely had a single lane for combat and meat—looked that stunned, then the False Monarch must've truly painted quite an image.

'Idiots, the lot of them.' Dismissing the whole group mentally, Ashok turned his gaze toward Leon, who was stealing occasional glances at him from the corner of his eye.

But the moment Ashok met that sideways look, Leon quickly averted his gaze, jaw tightening as his face gave away the faintest hint of anger—controlled, but not buried.

'Did his sense of justice rot his brain?' thought Ashok, genuinely baffled by Leon's behavior.

Why was the so-called Hero sulking like some jilted lover?

Ashok could understand anger, even hatred—but this?

This brooding side-glance-and-silent-treatment nonsense?

That was a level of melodrama he associated more with love-struck teenagers than righteous warriors.

'What kind of man pouts like that? It's not like I'm his girlfriend who'll giggle, wheedle, or get all clingy just to lighten his mood,' Ashok thought, exasperated.

'This world really is doomed.'

Right then, Gideon—ever the cheerful nuisance—chimed in again.

"Mr. Special, do you have a habit of ignoring people to their faces? Or are you just one of those deep thinkers? Though, no offense, you don't really look like one."

Ashok slowly turned his head.

"Fool. Have you ever heard of a famous saying?" he asked dryly.

Before he could elaborate, Zog leaned toward his sister and whispered—loudly enough for everyone to hear,

"Sister, see? He spoke normally again!"

Thud!

Zog grunted as Mira drove her elbow into his ribs, her eyes flashing with a glare that screamed: 'Shut up. Say one more thing and I'm leaving you behind.'

"Why do you keep calling me 'fool'? I'm not a fool—my name is Gideon," he huffed, puffing his cheeks slightly like a child wrongly accused.

"And please, keep your so-called 'famous sayings' to yourself. I've never heard one worth remembering, and I'm not particularly in the mood to be your audience."

Gideon's tone was light, but his eyes watched Adlet cautiously—like a man standing too close to a beast who might bite with sarcasm instead of teeth.

He had learned quickly that giving Adlet a stage, even one sentence long, was like handing a blade in his hands.

The moment you blinked, you'd find your pride hanging in ribbons.

Teachers, seniors, even the Imperial Princess—none had survived unscathed.

Gideon didn't know if Adlet were truly strong, but when it came to verbal beatdowns, the man was an Ascended grade.

Better to dodge the spear than take it through the ribs.

Ashok, of course, clicked his tongue—a crisp, dry sound that spoke volumes about missed opportunities.

'And here I was thinking something good' he lamented internally with a theatrical sigh.

"By the way, Mr. Special," Gideon continued, trying to recover some control, "you do realize this area's meant for the Endurance Training class, right?"

Ashok's eyes widened dramatically, pupils dilating like he'd just discovered a long-lost treasure.

"Oh? Really? That's… that's a dangerously confidential piece of information," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "And from a fool, no less. Remarkable!"

His expression shifted on a dime—wide-eyed wonder replaced by flat indifference.

"Unfortunately, it's also something I had absolutely no need of."

A sputter of laughter slipped from behind Gideon.

He didn't need to turn around—Zog, Mira, and Varnok were practically vibrating, their shoulders bouncing like they were trying to cough into their sleeves but failing miserably.

Even Leon, the walking bastion of brooding justice, had one corner of his mouth twitch. His shoulders trembled, whether in silent laughter or rage was anyone's guess.

"Can't you talk without insulting someone, Mr. Special?" Gideon asked, his brow furrowed with theatrical offense.

"Can't you keep your mouth shut, Fool?" Ashok shot back in the exact same tone, mirroring Gideon's cadence.

The air around them rippled with stifled laughter.

"Pfft."

"Keuk."

"Haha…"

Even a dry, abrupt "Ha!" slipped from someone's lips before quickly being smothered by the back of a hand.

Gideon exhaled heavily, dramatically wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.

"Fine! I accept my loss!" he declared with mock solemnity.

"I'm sorry for disturbing Your Great Majesty." He bowed slightly with a sweeping gesture. "Now, would Your Exalted Highness care to speak plainly to a humble commoner, or am I still shackled in some unknown contempt?"

Before Ashok could reply, a new voice rang out, sharp and uninvited.

"What is going on over here? And who exactly are you calling 'Great Majesty'?" Elara's voice was crisp, almost imperious, as she strode forward with Lyssa and a few other Aether students trailing behind like a well-trained entourage.

'Another royal headache arrives,' thought Ashok grimly, his head turning slightly to see Elara approaching.

Behind her, Lyssa who still didn't saw Adlet favorable in her eyes, and the rest of the group followed like wolves circling out of habit more than hunger.

'So, it's the Princess and the Assassin now. Though it seems the bond hasn't quite settled yet,' thought Ashok, his gaze drifting lazily toward the approaching figures.

Lyssa stood a few steps behind Elara, her posture sharp and quiet, like a dagger half-drawn but not yet ready to strike.

Elara, who had come for the Endurance Training, spotted a familiar and rather unwelcome gathering—several of her classmates were circled around Adlet, with Gideon standing at the center like a loyal servant mid-proclamation.

His head bowed slightly as he said, "I am sorry for disturbing your great Majesty. Now would you mind speaking…"

Elara's brow twitched.

'Don't tell me... that insolent is playing King now?' she thought, her boots thudding a little louder as her pace quickened, the firm clap of each step ringing out like a declaration of incoming judgment.

The title 'Great Majesty' wasn't something one could toss around lightly—it was a sacred designation, reserved only for the Emperor of the Empire, 'Higher Beings of Different Realms' and the Great Divinities or 'Gods' venerated by the churches.

Elara couldn't believe that this man audacity had increased to such heights where he would called a 'Great Majesty'.