Chapter 20: Bonus Chapter For Suppassing 40 Collections (Roove Thelistan P.OV )
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As I lay sprawled on the dirt, the world spinning from the barrage of punches, I tasted blood in my mouth and humiliation in my soul. It wasn't just the physical pain—though that was undeniable—it was the fact that, despite all my power, all my preparation, I'd been reduced to a crumpled heap by someone I'd underestimated.
I couldn't let it end like this.
But my body wasn't cooperating. My legs twitched uselessly as I tried to rise, my hands trembling from the aftershocks of the electricity I'd unleashed and the relentless force of his fists.
How had it gone so wrong?
When I'd stepped onto that road, I was confident. My calculations were precise, my abilities refined. For years, Furtum Cogitationum had granted me an edge over anyone in my radius. Stealing thoughts wasn't just about knowing what someone was planning—it was about throwing their instincts into disarray, reducing them to little more than flailing puppets.
It always worked.
Until now.
I clenched my jaw against the pain, forcing myself to sit upright. My swollen eye throbbed, my vision blurred, but I could still make out his form as he rode away—proud, composed, untouchable.
And Sophie.
The way she'd looked at him, her voice carrying a note of concern when she'd called him to stop, had cut deeper than any of his punches.
She was supposed to look at me like that.
I'd spent years preparing for this moment. Our engagement wasn't just a union of families; it was the culmination of my carefully crafted plans. Sophie was more than a prize—she was the key to solidifying my position in the Academy, the elite circles, and eventually, the council.
And now, she was slipping away.
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of dust and sweat. I could hear the fading hoofbeats, each one a reminder of my failure. But this wasn't over.
With a grunt, I staggered to my feet. My legs wobbled like a newborn deer's, but I steadied myself, using the nearby post as support. I spat blood onto the dirt, the crimson stain stark against the dry earth.
My rings glinted in the dying sunlight, a cruel reminder of the power I still held.
Power that he dared to mock.
Ain. That name would be etched in my mind forever. He wasn't just a brute—he was calculated, unyielding, and dangerously competent.
He was everything I despised.
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The ride back to the city was grueling. By the time I reached my estate, the servants had already begun preparing for my arrival, their expressions flickering with worry as they saw my condition.
"Master Roove! What happened?" one of them asked, rushing to support me.
"An unexpected...encounter," I muttered, waving them off. "Get me to the study."
As they led me inside, I tried to piece together what I'd learned. Ain wasn't just some wandering vagabond with a strong fist. The way he moved, the precision of his attacks—it spoke of training far beyond what a mere mercenary could achieve.
And that mist.
I shuddered, remembering the oppressive darkness that had enveloped him. It wasn't just an ability—it was something primal, something that seemed to reach into the depths of my soul and pull at my very being.
The study was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the crackling fireplace. I sank into the leather armchair, ignoring the servant fussing over my wounds.
"Leave me," I ordered, my voice cold.
Once the room was empty, I reached for the decanter of brandy, pouring myself a generous glass. The liquid burned as it slid down my throat, but it wasn't enough to dull the simmering rage inside me.
Ain.
Sophie.
The humiliation.
I slammed the glass onto the table, the sharp sound echoing in the room. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
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The next morning, as the sun crept over the horizon, I stood before the mirror, studying my reflection. My face was a mess—bruises blooming like dark flowers across my skin, my lips split, my eye swollen shut.
But there was a fire in my gaze that hadn't been there before.
This wasn't the end. If anything, this was the beginning.
I would rise from this humiliation, stronger and more prepared. Ain might have won the battle, but the war was far from over.
Reaching into the drawer, I pulled out a small, ornate box. Inside lay a crystal, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly light. I hadn't wanted to use this—not yet—but Ain had forced my hand.
The crystal pulsed in my palm, its energy thrumming like a heartbeat.
"Let's see how you fare against this," I murmured, a grim smile tugging at my lips.
As I closed the box and tucked it away, I felt a renewed sense of purpose.
Ain might have embarrassed me on that dusty road, but he'd made a fatal mistake.
He'd underestimated how far I was willing to go.
And Sophie?
She'd see soon enough.
I was Roove Thelistan ,Rex Maleficius.
And I wasn't done yet.
"Take me to the Hero Academy exam grounds," I said firmly to the guard stationed outside my estate.
The man hesitated, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "But Master Roove, you already have a guaranteed spot in Class A of the Academy. You needn't take the exam."
I turned to face him, my gaze as sharp as the edge of a blade. "Do I look like I'm asking for your opinion?" My voice was calm but carried enough weight to make him straighten and nod quickly.
"Understood, Master. I'll prepare the carriage immediately," he said, bowing before retreating.
The truth was, he wasn't wrong. I had a guaranteed place in the Academy's most prestigious class—a privilege reserved for those with high status or exceptional abilities. But this wasn't about privilege.
This was about proving something.
To Sophie.
To Ain.
And to myself as Rex Maleficius.
30 minutes later
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The ride to the exam grounds was suffocatingly quiet. My estate's crest flapped against the carriage as it sped through Maestral City's bustling streets. Normally, I would have enjoyed watching the people's awestruck expressions as they recognized my family's emblem, but today, I barely noticed them. My focus was elsewhere.
The Hero Academy's exam grounds came into view, a sprawling complex surrounded by towering walls etched with ancient runes. The gates were teeming with people—aspiring students, their families, and the occasional noble.
As the carriage rolled to a stop, I stepped out, ignoring the whispers that followed my arrival.
"Isn't that Roove Thelistan? I heard he's already guaranteed a place in Class A."
"Why is he here, then?"
"Maybe he's here to observe?"
I ignored the murmurs, walking with purpose toward the main gates. A guard stationed there stepped forward to intercept me.
"Master Thelistan, you're not required to participate in the exams. Your place is already secure—"
"I'm not here to secure anything," I interrupted, my voice cold. "I'm here to take the exam. Now step aside."
The guard hesitated, glancing at his superior, but ultimately relented. "Very well, sir. The Third test will begin shortly. You'll need to register at the examination hall."
I strode past him without another word, my heart pounding in my chest.
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The examination hall was a grand chamber filled with hundreds of candidates, each one looking more nervous than the last. Unlike them, I wasn't here to prove my worth to the Academy—I was here to make a statement.
As I approached the registration desk, the official behind it looked up, startled. "Master Thelistan? This is… unexpected."
"Mark my name," I said, sliding the required identification papers across the desk.
He scribbled my name onto the roster, clearly flustered. "You'll be assigned to Testing Group A. The Third trial begins in the north arena. Good luck, sir."
I smirked. "I won't need it."
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The Third trial was a combat test.
The arena was a circular battleground, its floor made of reinforced stone to withstand the devastating abilities of the candidates. Around the edges, spectators and Academy evaluators observed in silence, their eyes keen and judgmental.
I stood at the edge, surveying my competition. Most of them were young nobles like me, their postures stiff with tension. Some wore enchanted armor or clutched weapons that glowed faintly with magical energy.
And then there was me.
No armor. No weapon. Just my abilities and my will.
The proctor stepped forward, his booming voice silencing the crowd. "This is a free-for-all combat trial. The last ten candidates standing will advance to the next round. Begin!"
The arena erupted into chaos.
Fireballs streaked through the air, ice shards erupted from the ground, and gusts of wind sent less-prepared candidates tumbling. I stood still, letting the chaos unfold around me, observing.
A blast of energy hurtled toward me, but I sidestepped effortlessly, my expression calm. The attacker, a wiry boy with flame-covered fists, charged at me, his movements wild and uncoordinated.
Pathetic.
I dodged his first punch, then his second, my movements fluid and precise. As his third strike came toward me, I caught his wrist, twisting it sharply. He screamed as his flames sputtered out, collapsing to his knees.
"Out," I said coldly, shoving him aside.
Around me, the number of candidates was rapidly thinning. Most of them were amateurs, relying on flashy abilities without any real strategy or discipline.
That wouldn't be enough. Not here. Not against me.
A group of three candidates decided to team up, their eyes locking onto me. One wielded a massive broadsword, another manipulated water, and the third had some kind of Air based -gravity ability.
Interesting.
They charged as one, their attacks coordinated and precise. The swordsman swung his blade in a wide arc, the water wielder sent a torrent rushing toward my legs, and the air manipulator tried to pin me in place.
I smirked.
Their mistake was thinking they could overwhelm me with numbers.
I leapt into the air, avoiding the water and gravity entirely. As the swordsman's blade came up to meet me, I twisted midair, planting a kick squarely against his chest. He flew backward, crashing into the gravity manipulator with a sickening thud.
Before the water wielder could react, I closed the distance between us, my fist slamming into his jaw. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Three down," I muttered, brushing dust off my sleeves.
By the time the dust settled, only ten of us remained. The proctor raised his hand, signaling the end of the trial.
"Well done," he said, his voice echoing through the arena. "The ten of you have earned your place in the next round."
I stepped forward, my eyes scanning the evaluators. I knew they'd taken notice of me, just as I intended.
This was only the beginning.
Ain might think he's untouchable, but soon, he'd learn the truth.
I wasn't just another noble with an overinflated ego.
I am Rex Maleficius a Transmigrator who will stand upon this word at my feet