I Enrolled as the Villain
Chapter 41: To Unmake A Saint

Chapter 41: To Unmake A Saint

"Damnit."

The red spear dug deep into my side. Heat seared up my shoulder. I stumbled, blood soaking into my uniform.

Too serious. This was too serious for a school competition.

The spear dissolved—vanished into mist.

Finally.

I backed away, steps uneven, lungs burning as I tried to form a strategy. Then he disappeared. Red mist swallowed him.

So that was him.

The Saint Of Nothing.

Maybe not stronger than the Blue Star

But far, far harder to predict.

And in a place like this, that might be worse.

My Mythrigan flared again—sharper now, lenses rotating.

I shut my right eye.

Only the left remained open — the pure visual focus of the God Eye.

The forest lit up in my vision — dozens of tiny red flares scattered between the trees.

Red Stars.

Faint, flickering... but everywhere.

The peak of entropy. Monsters shaped like men.

If I couldn’t sense him directly...

Then I’d burn everything until nothing could hide.

I raised my hand.

Mana surged.

"Burn."

Swoooosh—

A cyclone of fire erupted from the ground. Trees cracked and twisted. Smoke clawed at the sky. The blaze formed a wide circle around me, roaring louder with each second.

The forest howled.

Somewhere overhead, a drone reversed course, retreating fast. Too much heat.

Good.

Let them see what it costs to hunt me.

The fire tornado howled around me, swallowing the trees and turning the world into smoke and heat.

But the flames flickered.

A ripple broke through the inferno — not from wind or mana, but from something stepping through it. A shape moved forward slowly. Unburned. Untouched.

Then I saw him.

He removed his helmet with one hand. His hair fell loose — long, the color of blood boiled dry. Redder than the fire that surrounded him.

And he smiled.

"Suffering," he said, voice quiet against the roar, "is the privilege of those who feel."

His steps didn’t slow.

"And I don’t have that privilege."

He lunged.

I reacted. The Mythrigan flared, trying to catch his trajectory.

But nothing aligned.

His movements were chaotic — jerks, dips, slashes from angles that made no structural sense. Like his body moved on instinct without rhythm. No center of gravity. No clean read.

I couldn’t predict it.

I couldn’t map it.

What I saw wasn’t a form. It was noise. Disordered, raw, wild.

Was this it?

The true state of Red Star?

Not precision.

Not strength.

Just entropy, wearing a body.

He lunged.

I moved without thinking. The Mythrigan flared again, gears in my vision grinding for a read.

Nothing landed.

No arc. No rhythm. No angle.

He didn’t fight like someone with technique he moved like his bones had been broken and reassembled wrong, like momentum itself bent sideways around him.

Not chaos. Not madness.

Just the way he was.

I tried to lock on. The Mythrigan jittered, recalibrating. My foot slid back over wet earth. I raised my hand—

Shhk!

Ice burst from the ground, jagged and sharp.

His body hit it—

—and the ice exploded like glass struck by a hammer.

Fragments scattered across my arms. My white cape hissed. I blinked hard.

Stupid. That was stupid.

Why did I use ice in a furnace?

The trees were already burning. The air pulsed. My lungs tasted smoke.

He didn’t comment. Just kept walking.

Like it didn’t matter how much space I put between us.

I backed off again, chest rising. The Mythrigan fed me data—speed, trajectory, bloodflow—but none of it made sense. His body wasn’t aligning with physics.

"Kael," Radger said, voice calm, "I remember your speech earlier. Something about this not being a game of heart and hand, wasn’t it?"

I kept moving, thinking through counterattacks. How was I supposed to fight a beast like this? Someone who’d thrown away comfort for pure strength?

"But Kael," he continued, "it’s never been that kind of game in this world."

I pulled a sword from my pouch and expanded it to full size. Its weight settled into my grip.

Severance Gaze, First Form.

A shrill metallic screech echoed as the sword charged forward a blade of pure light, too raw to be called beautiful, vibrating with dense energy.

Radger didn’t dodge.

Instead, Radger tilted his head, catching the blade with his teeth. A grotesque grind of metal rang out as sparks flew across his jaw.

He held it there. Grinning.

"That’s a new one," he said, voice muffled. "Never recorded in Valery history... or is this some sword art from a future you haven’t shared?"

Then, slowly, he spat the sword out. The mangled blade dropped to the dirt, useless. Broken.

I let it fall. That one wasn’t meant to end him.

Tiny sword particles almost invisible had latched onto his armor and skin in the opening seconds.

All I needed was to will it. One command, and they’d would stab him.

"A bit extreme, don’t you think?" Radger added. "For a school competition?"

"Maybe," I answered. "But you and I both know... this isn’t just a competition."

Radger’s grin didn’t fade. His eyes narrowed slightly not in confusion, but understanding.

"That look in your eyes... you’re going to do it, aren’t you?"

He stepped forward through the ash.

"The same move you used against Lucia. That instant stab."

He raised a hand to his chest, tapping where a heart should be.

"Let’s see if it still works."

My left eye flared.

Enlarge.

A blade burst forth impaling Radger through the thigh.

He grunted, staggering.

Another — pierced his shoulder.

Another — punched through his side.

Then two more.

Blood splashed across the forest floor.

He didn’t fall.

Why isn’t he down yet?

My breath hitched. I could feel it the enlarged sword... just a few inches off from his vitals.

If I keep going... if I push this any further...

I might kill him.

"Not bad," Radger muttered, blood dripping from his jaw.

"For a hax ability, that is."

He straightened.

Clang! clang!

The blades embedded in his body clattered to the ground like discarded nails.

I stepped back.

No my body moved on its own.

He wasn’t falling.

He was rising.

Red mist poured from his shoulders, and from it a new weapon formed. A spear. Crimson. Bright enough to blind.

It hummed. The flames around us faded not smothered, not extinguished just... gone.

Like they were never real.

The air shifted.

Radger rolled his neck once and looked at me. Grinning.

"Let’s stop pretending," he said.

Blood still dripped through his armor, but it didn’t seem to matter. The spear pulsed in his grip steadily.

He studied me for a moment, then spoke again.

"I remember the story. You... the heir of Valery. The incident with the Crown Princess."

His voice stayed level, almost casual.

"You forced her into a corner. They said it nearly went too far."

He tilted his head slightly, like he was tasting the memory.

"She was my first crush, you know."

Silence hung between us.

No threat in his stance. No anger in his eyes. Just his voice low, steady, and unsettlingly calm.

"You took something sacred, Kael. And now I wonder..."

He raised the spear.

"Will breaking you feel sacred too?"

Shit.

He’s activating it — his Path... and that damn Litany of the Red Crown

The air thickened. Not from mana, but from something older, deeper. A law being bent.

I stepped back once on Instinct. My Mythrigan flared, but even it was struggling to read him now. His presence distorted patterns — like reality around him no longer cared to follow rules.

If we keep going...

If both of us fight seriously—

Someone’s going to die.

No instructor would reach us in time. No intervention fast enough.

This wasn’t a duel anymore.

It was something else.

Something no academy was ready for.

"I wasn’t trying to assault her," I muttered. "It was a mistake."

Radger shrugged. "Doesn’t matter to me."

He vanished.

A flicker — then I felt it behind me.

I shrunk myself instantly, slipping space in a breathless blink. His red spear stabbed through air where I’d just been.

He stopped. Looked at the empty point of impact.

"...That’s new."

I reappeared behind him in full size.

My fist slammed forward, mana surging through my knuckles.

A direct hit to his back.

Thud.

Radger staggered forward two steps.

He turned slowly.

The spot I’d hit was smoking, armor dented... but his grin was still there.

"Mana punch?" he said, brushing ash from his shoulder. "You really are mixing everything, huh?"

Radger muttered under his breath,

"Path of the Unmaking Saint."

My pulse jumped.

I stepped back and raised a hand.

"Rejection."

The force shot forward in a single burst — raw and wide.

The ground cracked under the pressure. Trees shuddered. Smoke blew outward in curling streams.

Then the force hit.

Like an invisible hammer, it slammed into Radger, cratering the dirt beneath him. The blast tore a deep line across the forest floor— a long scar etched through soil and stone, cutting past roots, slicing through terrain. Trees toppled. Ash scattered. The land itself recoiled.

Far across the forest, deep inside the blue star command center, Selene Dais sat forward in her seat. Holograms flickered. One of the walls vibrated slightly.

She looked up.

"...What the hell was that?"

A subordinate turned, voice tight. "Ma’am. A fight just broke out — Kael versus Radger. Title confirmed: The Unmaking Saint."

The hologram in the center of the command room flickered alive. The projection showed a massive shockwave tearing through the forest. Trees snapped. Earth cratered. Ripples of force spread outward like gravity gone wild.

"Is that Kael?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yes, ma’am. Rejection-type ability. High-yield."

She leaned forward, watching the destruction unfold.

"Don’t interfere," she said. "Let them burn each other out."

——-

Ash swirled in the air, thick enough to choke on. Smoke hung low, clinging to the shredded treetops like fog. I scanned what remained of the forest — cracked earth, torn roots, branches still burning in quiet orange embers.

The blast had carved a scar clean through the landscape.

No way he survived that head-on. He had to be hiding.

But something else caught my eye.

The ground... it was changing. Subtle, but there. The soil steamed faintly, and the air had started to shimmer — not from fire, but from rising heat.

Damn.

The temperature was shifting. Climbing.

The Fire Cycle was close.

And if it triggered now while we were still mid-fight we’d be swallowed in it together.

A flicker.

Red light, pulsing faintly—left.

I turned just in time to see him.

Radger stood, cracked armor gleaming, one hand raised like a priest.

His voice rang clear.

"Path of the Unmaking Saint. Stage Two — Saint Protester: Spear of Antiquity."

The spear launched before I could react.

Sweshh—

The Mythrigan’s glow pulsed hard, pain flaring behind my left eye.

My body moved on instinct.

Ice and earth surged up, forming a wall thick enough to block siege fire.

BOOM!

The explosion rattled through my ribs. Smoke punched outward. Shards of frozen stone scattered.

What the hell is that Path?

It felt like history collapsing.

I didn’t wait.

Mana surged to my palm.

White lightning gathered — fast, volatile, drawn from the core of my Mythrigan.

Sparks danced in the air ahead of me, forming a jagged spear of crackling light.

I pointed it toward Radger.

This time, I wasn’t holding back.

White lightning surged from my hand, a concentrated arrow of pure Mythrigan force. It cut through the air at light-speed, snapping branches and warping the air around it as it flew straight for him.

Radger watched it with a strange calm.

"What a versatile Eye," he muttered, almost impressed. "And you’re not even using a Path."

Another spear formed in his grip — red, ancient, pulsing with some deep, hateful pressure.

He hurled it.

The two forces collided mid-air.

KRA-KOOM—!

A shockwave ripped across the forest. Trees bent. The sky above split with light. The explosion was so vast it punched a crater into the center of the map — its edges visible even from the outer cliffs of the stronghold.

Smoke curled upward in long, spiraling trails.

The battlefield stilled. No movement. No sound.

But the tension hadn’t faded.

I stood facing him. Neither of us moved. My breath slowed. My left eye throbbed with each pulse. It was getting harder to keep it open.

The Mythrigan was close to its limit.

Then I felt it.

The air shifted subtly at first, then sharper, hotter. The temperature spiked unnaturally, rising like pressure under skin. The trees began to sweat sap. Leaves curled.

Radger glanced up, then back at me. His eyes narrowed not in fear, but recognition.

"That was a good fight," he said quietly. "But you’re not meant to lose here... not yet."

He smiled, just slightly.

"Not by my hand."

The ground rumbled faint, distant, but steady. Radger tilted his head, watching the smoke twist.

"That’s her right"

His voice dropped lower.

"The Red Cosmos."