I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

There was a special station for students of Ocryphia Academy who relied on public transport. It was conveniently close to the academy grounds, but access was heavily restricted. Only those who could prove their affiliation with Ocryphia were allowed to exit. Security was tight, as expected.

Soon enough, Ivan's carriage on the Thunder was filled with other Ocryphia students. They came from different years and various classes, but they all shared the same destination.

At Ocryphia, each year was split into two distinct classes: the Elites and the Commons. Thanks to Patrick Cromwell, Ivan had secured his place among the Elites. It was a privilege that not only elevated his status but also gave him a front-row seat to observe the novel's unfolding events.

Unfortunately, at the moment, Ivan found himself surrounded by students from the Common class. Regardless of their year, it was clear they harbored resentment toward the Elites. He received several cold stares and silent judgments.

For a moment, Ivan regretted choosing public transport. Patrick had offered him a ride in his private limousine, but Ivan had declined. Now, he realized he should have expected this—the public Thunder was bound to be packed with students from less privileged backgrounds.

Thankfully, none of them acted on their bitterness. They simply glared at him with disdain, but Ivan couldn't care less about their opinions.

As the Thunder finally pulled into the station, the last one reserved exclusively for Ocryphia Academy, everyone began to exit. Ivan, too, made his way toward the door, but as he moved, he felt several deliberate shoves from the students around him. It wasn't just one—there were several, pushing him aside as they hurried past.

A flash of irritation surged through him. With the abnormal pride and ego Ivan had now, he quickly felt blood rush to his head, and his expression darkened.

Instead of continuing forward, he planted his feet on the floor, standing his ground. The next group of students who tried to push him found themselves bouncing off him, falling painfully to the ground as if they had run into a wall of solid concrete.

Grimacing in pain, the students looked up at him, startled.

Ivan cast a cold glance down at them. "That's a fitting place for you—low class," he said, his voice dripping with contempt.

The line was lifted directly from Isaac Crawford, another antagonist from Zenon's novel, and it hit the Common students like a hammer. Silence fell over them as Ivan's words sank in, the disdain in his eyes was irritatingly blatant. They could only stare up at him, their faces burning with embarrassment and anger.

Without another glance at the men now blushing furiously on the ground, Ivan strode off, leaving them to stew in their humiliation.

"Leon!"

Ivan had barely stepped out of the station when he heard Aaron calling out to him. The suddenness of it caught Ivan slightly off guard.

"You waited for me?" Ivan asked, a bit surprised.

"Of course I did," Aaron replied with a wide grin, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I'd never leave you alone in the Academy, Leon."

Ivan felt a wave of discomfort. The misunderstandings between them from before still lingered, and he wasn't in the mood to bring them up. He didn't ask how long Aaron had been waiting, sensing that some things were better left unsaid. If Aaron ever realized that his idol still had lingering suspicions about his sexuality, he'd probably be devastated enough to contemplate something drastic.

As they walked together, Ivan noticed Aaron struggling to hold back an obvious question—about the wedding. Sighing inwardly, Ivan decided to break the silence.

"Later," he said, glancing over.

Aaron's face lit up instantly, nodding enthusiastically. For him, the wedding of his idol was a grand, thrilling event, and he was dying to know every detail since it was a huge event for the people of Seraphiel's Faith.

Aaron much like the others wanted to be accepted in this world without having to hide or fear of being burned on a stake. Britannia's Fall and recoversion to Seraphiel brought a lot of joy to Aaron and his family.

They understood at that moment that Ivan was really the real deal.

Ivan ignored Aaron's smile. 

He would normally disinclined to share anything personal, had made a small exception in this case. The Cromwell family had been instrumental in supporting him through his current situation, and he needed to ensure their loyalty stayed with him, not with the Cathedral. By involving them in his plans, they would feel a deeper sense of importance and, more crucially, they'd feel justified in keeping the truth hidden from the Cathedral.

"Today, we can pick out up to three weapons from the exhibition," Aaron said, changing the topic. "They're made of White Amber. What do you think?"

Ivan remained silent for a moment, considering the so-called weapons. White Amber was said to be highly effective against possessed individuals and even demons, capable of inflicting significant damage. However, Ivan had never personally needed to use them.

Throughout his life, Ivan had rarely faced possession, primarily because the Cathedral's people—those closest to him—had built up strong immunity to such things. In his particular case, it was even less of a concern. And, truthfully, he had never paid much attention to demons.

It was entirely possible that he had encountered demons or possessed people in the villages and towns he had razed to the ground in the past, but since he had killed them all with such ease, he couldn't really say for sure. They had all fallen the same, whether they were possessed, human, or something else.

"I'm not too concerned about White Amber," Ivan finally said. He glanced at Aaron, who looked back with curiosity. "But it might be worth checking out."

Though Ivan brushed it off casually, he knew he had little choice but to play the role of an aspiring Exorcist, despite his personal disdain for them. Still, it would be dull to spend his time at the academy only learning things he already knew. At least exorcism might be a decent way to pass the time while he focused on his real objective: the Vault.

The Alpha Building, their destination, was located on the western side of the Ocryphia campus, just to the left of the Main Building where all the students had gathered for the entrance ceremony the day before. Ivan, Aaron, and a group of other students walked along the beautiful garden pathway, lined with well-manicured hedges and colorful flowers, before reaching the imposing structure.

The Alpha Building was mainly used for physical conditioning, hand-to-hand combat, and other practical classes. It was a massive building, divided into four floors to accommodate different years and class schedules. Today, though, Ivan and Aaron didn't need to worry about stairs or elevators—their floor was on the ground level.

As they entered, the doors to the main hall were wide open, and it was already buzzing with activity. Dozens of first-year students milled about, talking excitedly amongst themselves, waiting for the event to begin. 

While White Amber weapons weren't necessarily hard to come by, the fact that these were being provided by Ocryphia Academy made them all the more special. They were likely of exceptional quality, and receiving a brand-new weapon—especially one of such rarity—was something any student would be thrilled about. The men, in particular, seemed the most animated, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Oh, they really spared no expense," Aaron said, looking around with wide eyes.

The hall itself was enormous, even larger than two football stadium. Several weapon companies had set up stands, each showcasing their own selection of finely crafted White Amber weapons. Representatives from each company stood proudly by their displays, eager to present and advertise their products to Ocryphia's Elite students.

It became clear to Ivan why the companies had been so willing to provide their high-quality weapons for free. The exposure they would gain from having Ocryphia's Elites wield their products was worth far more than a few weapons given away as gifts. In this environment, it wasn't just about combat; it was about prestige and branding. Having an Elite student use your weapon meant status—and profit.

"Is everyone gathered?" A voice suddenly boomed through the hall, amplified by microphones and speakers mounted around the room. It was Eline Castell, their homeroom teacher, standing confidently in the center of the vast space, taking immediately attention.

Beside her stood a red-haired, handsome man with a gentle expression. His presence immediately caught the eyes of several female students, who began whispering and giggling among themselves.

"For those who don't know," Eline continued, gesturing toward the man, "this is my colleague, Robert Rollestone. He's the homeroom teacher for the Common Class of the First Years."

Her announcement was met with an awkward silence.

The realization set in like a slow wave: the students around them weren't just from the Elite class, but also from the Common class. It had only been a day since the start of the term, so most people hadn't paid much attention to who was in their class. But now, as they looked around, they saw it clearly—more than a hundred students packed into the hall, a mix of both Elite and Common classes.

There was clearly a slight tension as students started glaring disdainfully at each other. There was clear line between Elites and Commons which the formers supported while the latters hated.

Eline could sense it immediately. The rivalry between the Elite and Common classes was an ingrained tradition, passed down from year to year, as if the two groups were destined to despise each other. She had seen it many times before. Each year, it was the same pointless hostility, and it always exasperated her. She suppressed the urge to let out a heavy sigh. It was going to be another long year.

The students weren't even subtle about their disdain.

"Look… it's that guy..." 

"That bastard..." 

Ivan felt their glares without having to look. It was the group of Common class boys he had humiliated on the Thunder earlier, now staring daggers at him. He knew they were fuming, but he couldn't care less. Ignoring their bitter glances, he kept his expression cool and indifferent.

But inwardly he regretted not having put them at their right place even if he had to traumatize them a bit.

I've already made enemies. Perfect.