Villain of my own novel

"Black mirror."

"Dance of the Black Ink."

The couple in the illusion room mumbled, and black coloured smoke began to ooze out of Isha, complying with her command, while dispersing, pitch-black, light-devouring wind blades that looked similar to a Chinese brush stroke swirled around Eshwar.

Few of the cadets ignored Eshwar's smart ways of hunting big monsters and had run off to train by themselves. Eshwar was killing the monsters that were many times bigger than him without exerting too much strength; one could tell that he was very experienced in fighting unpredictable monsters, and the deep scars that could be seen on him even though he was wearing his thick, skin-tight training outfit were the proof of his experience.

Even Grace, Neal, and Reynolds, who were the most experienced except for the other few among the academic staff, didn't have that many scars. No, getting hurt cannot be avoided even if you train harder than everyone else; you get hurt only when you fight against stronger, more experienced monsters or people, and Eshwar's scars were the proof of his confidence and his undying pride to stand tall even in the face of death.

Such people should never be underestimated, and someone like Eshwar should actually be feared because his past is unknown, and those scars of his are the proof of the near-death situations he had been through his life, and the strengths he holds in his arsenal, even though he is so young makes him more terrifying than many masters and monsters around the world.

And the people who are able to understand these things that aren't really visible to the naked eye would never be able to ignore someone like Eshwar.

The professors, staff, a very few people from the other world, and a very few cadets continued to fill their sights with the existence called Eshwar.

"A demi-g..." Reynolds, who was about to mumble something that he shouldn't, was fortunately stopped by Neal, who appeared behind him and shut Reynolds' mouth before he completed his words.

"Do you want the academy to be erased from existence?" Neal whispered in Reynolds' ear, who shuddered in response, realising the mistake he was about to make.

"God dammit." Grace, who heard their whispers, cursed with a sigh of relief, shuddering in fear.

Demi-gods were an existence that weren't revealed to the world, because of the dangers their existences would bring, one could also call them "controllers," because the order of the living beings was in their hands, yet their existences weren't revealed to the people who were under their control. What gives them the right to control the world from behind? Their strength. They had the strength to destroy the entire empire, which covered half of the mapped world. Where they lived and what they did were unknown, even to the people who knew of their existence, but they couldn't help but fear them.

The demi-gods could hear everything if their names or titles were ever mentioned. Those that were aware of the existence of the demi-gods were bewildered when the existence of gods appeared on the world; it was from then on that the rule of the demi-gods began to flatter, yet their existences weren't revealed to the world, because all those that were called demi-gods were none other than beings who were once humans.

The only thing that kept the intelligent beings from rebelling against the demi-gods were their strengths, which could aid in their fight against the fallen gods.

'Is it really possible for the living to become like them, the demi-gods?' Grace thought inwardly. The only answers that the people who knew about the existence of the demi-gods could give to those who were curious were: 'There are things that are better off not known.' 'I don't have the authority to reveal those things.' 'Get stronger, then you'll learn about them by yourself.' These were the only abstract answers they could give; it wasn't that they didn't want to answer, it was just that they couldn't.

"Haaa...." Grace sighed.

'There is no way Reynolds would make a mistake of speaking out things like that; it was likely that he zoned out and mumbled out things involuntarily, but what made him zone out?' Grace asked herself.

[Clear]

"!!" Grace's eyes dilated when she heard [Clear]. She was honestly expecting Eshwar and Isha to fail in killing the Minotaur; it wasn't that she was underestimating them, but she never thought they could defeat a Minotaur that was stronger than all the previously appeared monsters combined.

"....." Gazing at the cheerfully chatting couple walking away from the dematerializing body of the almost shredded Minotaur with a menacing pet walking next to them.

'Demi-gods.' Grace thought involuntarily and snapped out of it as soon as she had that thought, and she understood why Reynolds had just zoned out.

"Ha, haha, ha...." Chuckling awkwardly, Grace turned to face Neal and Reynolds, who had surprised expressions on their faces.

"No way."

*

A good-looking man stood in front of the training dummy, huffing. He too had worn a skin-tight training outfit just like the others; he had obsidian black eyes and raven black hair.

"Haa...." With a deep, exhausted sigh, he slumped back on the ground and leaned back, supporting himself with his arms.

He glanced at his pocket system, in which a small window continued to display Eshwar and Isha's fight in the illusion room, noticing the black hair on Eshwar's head, He shuddered in fear when a flash of "him" destroying the entire elven domain, back on Earth, with a single stomp appeared in his mind.

'No, that can't be him.' He thought and shook his head, dismissing his absurd thoughts.

'That bit*h isn't good enough to make such a strong person fall for her.' He thought, and at that self-assuring thought, a cruel smile crept up on his face.

"Then, will that bit*h despair if I kill that son of a bit*h next to her?" He mumbled, his ominous grin widening.

"What's making you smile so much, baby~ hm?" A sweet woman's voice sounded behind him, and the smile on his face turned fake.

"Trista." He called out, glancing back at the alluring woman walking towards him with sensual steps, twirling her well-endowed body covered in a skin-tight training outfit. She had dim orange eyes and dull golden blonde hair; her name was Trista Shanronad, the daughter of the Shanronad barony, a noble household from the capital.

"Heath, you should also give me a cute moniker!" Trista demanded.

"I already have." Heath Walker said with a fake smile on his face that the bit*h in front of him was too naive to notice.

"What is it?" Trista asked with stars twinkling in her eyes.

'Bit*h.' He said inwardly,

"Buttercup." He said on the outside.

"Hmm, hmm, is that so?" Trista smiled brightly, clearly happy about the nickname he had given her.

'Ha!'