I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 153: Training (3)

The moment he saw Gideon wave of frustration settled in Ashok's mind as he cursed inwardly—

'Fuck my luck. I just had to encounter this guy along the way.'

A wide smirk came on Gideon's face as he spotted Adlet he raised one hand in greeting, his voice loud and taunting—

"Yo! Mr. Special, up for a duel?"

Yet, Ashok didn't even glance in his direction, his focus unwavering as he continued walking ahead, ignoring the challenge entirely.

But Gideon was far from done.

Matching Adlet's pace, he walked alongside him, his tone dripping with mockery, his expression playful yet sharp.

"Don't tell me you got wet pants after declaring war on the entire class."

The words held enough sting to infuriate any noble, enough bite to provoke an immediate response—

And yet, Ashok remained silent, his steps steady, his gaze forward.

Because in the end—a duel with Gideon was a losing game.

It wasn't hesitation.

It wasn't fear.

It was knowledge.

Ashok understood his own limits, and in a direct confrontation, he would lose to Gideon ten times out of ten.

So wasting energy on a pointless fight, one he knew would end in defeat, was nothing short of stupidity.

Ashok knew Gideon's strength well, his mind piecing together the details from the game's mechanics.

Though Gideon wasn't a playable character, his very design ensured he grew alongside the main cast, acting as a rival, a competitor, and at times—a formidable obstacle.

Three core traits defined his combat potential, each one tailored for progression and survival.

Battle Hardened Brawler: Every fight, win or lose, fueled his growth—each encounter sharpened his techniques, ensuring that no battle was wasted.

Combat Instincts: The longer he fought, the faster he adapted, analyzing his opponent with unnerving precision, identifying weaknesses, exploiting gaps, and adjusting his approach with lethal efficiency.

Blood of Living: A conditional blood related trait that activated only in moments of true danger—when his life was at risk, his mind surged into hyperdrive, his body instinctively moving in the optimal way for survival, ensuring he preserved himself at all costs.

This combination of traits made Gideon far more than just another student—he was a fighter who became deadlier with every engagement, an adversary whose skills evolved by sheer experience alone.

And that was precisely why Ashok didn't entertain the provocation.

Ashok kept his thoughts steady, reinforcing the reality of his current position—

Gideon's Combat Instincts alone made him nearly impossible to defeat, and even if Ashok fought him, he wasn't strong enough to trigger Blood of Living.

'So what was the point?'

Because in a direct battle, he would lose every time.

It wasn't cowardice. It was logic

Now was not his time.

His time would come, but until then, he had to prepare, strengthen, and ensure that when that moment arrived—he would be ready.

During these times, Ashok wished that his False Monarch Trait was active because then he can truly show the power of words.

Gideon clicked his tongue, sensing Adlet's continued silence, but instead of backing down, he pivoted to a more casual tone, his words laced with mockery—

"Hey, just don't go around ignoring me. We're in the same class, you know—and I even made sure to take a bath today."

His sneering expression made it clear he was testing Adler's patience, but despite the clear provocation, Adler remained indifferent, his steps never slowing.

The refusal to react only fueled Gideon's persistence, and with an easy movement, he reached out, attempting to throw an arm around Adlet's shoulder—

A single moment—the moment Ashok sensed a arm coming for his shoulder.

[Sole Survivor]

[AGI: F+ -> D+]

Before Gideon's hand could even brush against him, Ashok was gone—

Standing two meters away, his reaction so quick it left only empty air where he had once been.

With a surge of heightened Agility, Ashok propelled himself forward, covering a considerable distance in just three steps, his movements fast and swift.

As he reached a safe gap between them, he cast a brief glance over his shoulder, his tone firm—

"We are not close enough for you to be all giddy with me."

His words hung in the air for a fleeting moment before he deactivated his trait, turned sharply, and gripped the handle of Room 17, stepping inside without hesitation.

The door shut behind him—a clean exit, without a trace of wasted movement.

Left alone in the hallway, Gideon blinked, staring at the empty space where Ashok had stood mere seconds ago.

His outstretched hand lingered in mid-air, a moment of unexpected realization settling in his mind.

Throughout the encounter, Gideon had maintained his awareness, never once lowering his guard—and yet, when Ashok moved, he had barely caught the motion itself.

That brief lapse… that slip of perception—was enough to force a shift in his expression.

The lingering smirk stretched into an amused smile as the thought crossed his mind—

'So Mr. Special is not all talk after all.'

And with that, Gideon simply turned away, his interest piqued, but his path unchanged.

Ashok leaned against the training room gate, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts, the exhaustion settling deep into his bones.

He had already been worn out before arriving, and that short burst of speed had drained the last reserves of his stamina.

A sigh escaped his lips as he let his head rest against the door, his mind flickering with a single thought—

'Finally free from that pest.'

Gideon had been persistent, his presence unrelenting, but Ashok knew that allowing him to close the distance would have only led to more unwelcome engagements.

Even though he disliked using his Sole Survivor Trait—knowing it interfered with natural development—keeping a safe distance had been the smarter choice.

After a few moments of deep, steady breathing, Ashok finally regained control over his stamina, his gaze drifting toward the room's interior.

The metal-plated walls gave the space a cold, sterile feel, each surface designed to withstand various magical and physical impacts.

At the center of the room, standing motionless, was a wooden training dummy, its worn exterior marked by countless strikes, a testament to the students who had tested their abilities before him.

But Ashok wasn't here for spells—despite this being a Non-Elemental Spell Training Room.

With deliberate steps, he moved toward the center, settling onto the floor cross-legged, his posture calm yet focused.

He was here to train his Internal Art.

The training room was designed to be a haven for mana cultivation, its structure imbued with three intricate formations:

Mana Gathering Circle—Pulling raw natural mana from the air.

Elemental Separation Circle—Purifying it by removing elemental influences.

Mana Containment Circle—Ensuring that the gathered energy remained within the room, preventing leakage.

In theory, this meant the space was rich with pure non-elemental mana, the ideal environment for mana refinement and internal training.

And yet—Ashok couldn't sense even a trace of it.

Rather than dwelling on the frustration, Ashok reminded himself—it was too soon to feel defeated.

His focus shifted.

Instead of chasing the raw mana in the air, he turned inward, committing himself to the first steps of the Mana Core Pulse Method.

Closing his eyes, he directed his mental awareness toward the center of his chest—toward the Mana Core nestled within his heart.

Few Moments Later…

Ashok's eyes flickered open, his gaze settling on his watch, disappointment creeping in as he saw the time.

Twenty minutes have passed yet he was onto nothing.

Despite his efforts, his senses remained completely blank—no trace of mana, no hint of his own core's presence.

Unlike the tangible ache of his muscles, which confirmed the progress of External Art, practicing Internal Art left Ashok with nothing—no sensation, no evidence of growth.

It was a frustrating void.

'Though currently I am a Priest, Adlet once belonged to the Cindergarde family of Mages… So why can't I sense mana?'

The thought lingered as he closed his eyes once more, shifting his approach.

If he couldn't sense the mana within, then perhaps the answer lay in the world beyond himself.

Instead of diving into his Mana Core, Ashok turned his focus outward, attempting to perceive the raw energy lingering in the air, the mana that should have been gathered, purified, and contained within this very room.

Minutes passed.

Silence stretched on.

And yet—nothing changed.

His eyes flickered open, glancing at his watch.

Another fifteen minutes had passed.

And still—no mana.

Not from within.

Not from outside.

A Troubling Reality

This was a problem—one far beyond a mere learning curve.

He didn't know what was wrong or why this was happening.

And without answers, he had no direction to take forward.

Yet, despite the lack of progress, Ashok refused to surrender.

His only choice?

To continue practicing his Internal Art, pushing past the uncertainty in hopes that something—anything—would eventually click.

Ashok sat motionless, his focus locked in deep concentration, searching for something—anything—that would indicate the presence of mana.

Yet, time drifted on, and despite his unwavering commitment, he felt absolutely nothing.

Minutes passed, the stillness of the room unbroken, until—

TING!

A sharp metallic chime echoed through the chamber, shattering his immersion and pulling him back to reality.

Ashok blinked, his gaze shifting toward his watch, and a wave of frustration settled in his chest.

Another twenty-five minutes had passed.

A full hour—gone, and he had achieved nothing.

Ten credits spent, and he remained right where he started.

His fingers curled into a fist as the thought surfaced—

'It can't go on like this. My aim is the Mana Control Trait, but I need to sense mana before I can even attempt to control it.'

Meditation, which should have been his gateway to understanding mana, had failed him completely.

And the worst part?

Even children in this world could sense mana simply by closing their eyes and focusing hard enough.

Yet he—who had inherited Adlet's body, who should have had the foundation for magic—couldn't even do that.

Did that mean he was worse than children?

The thought stung deeper than he wanted to admit.

Ashok exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

If this method wasn't working, then continuing it blindly was a waste of time.