Chapter 86 — Products

Damian walked out of the shooting range silently, his expression perfectly neutral.

But deep inside, he couldn’t stop the creeping sense of disappointment from settling into his chest like a cold stone.

He was still human, after all.

Getting abandoned by one of his own teachers hurt more than he wanted to admit.

The rational part of his mind knew this was inevitable. He’d seen it coming from miles away the moment those videos started circulating.

His teachers were Nobles. His rivals were Nobles. His enemies were all Nobles.

Ever since arriving at this Academy, he’d been completely surrounded by this suffocating social construct. It was like a rope slowly tightening around his throat, getting closer and closer each day until he could barely breathe.

No matter how much he talked about treating everyone equally in his Mafia, the reality was that not a single Noble had ever joined his organization.

Not one.

They feared him. Respected his strength, maybe. But they would never follow him.

’I don’t understand this world sometimes.’

In his old world, children weren’t dragged into this kind of political warfare. Sure, there were family businesses and legacy expectations, but not like this.

Here, the moment kids turned fifteen and awakened their abilities, they were immediately shoved into a reality where all the comfortable illusions about a united human race living peacefully in the Earth Federation completely shattered.

Suddenly everything became crystal clear.

No matter how hard you worked or how talented you were, you needed to attach yourself to certain families if you wanted to survive and advance.

Families who would use you for their own benefit without a second thought. Families who couldn’t tolerate some commoner being better than their carefully groomed heirs.

Families who didn’t look at commoners as fellow humans but as servants and tools meant to be exploited in every possible way.

Their goal was never to make humanity stronger as a whole. They just wanted to maintain their position at the top of the hierarchy, regardless of how much everyone else suffered in the process.

They didn’t even care if humanity as a whole became weaker and weaker.

’Would you care about how your property was feeling? Would you worry if your tools were happy?’

The answer was obviously no.

You’d only care about the price and quality. Whether it was worth the investment or not.

Deep in these dark thoughts, Damian suddenly understood the fundamental mentality driving the Noble class.

Commoners were products. Nobles were buyers. The better the quality, the higher the price you could demand.

And people like Damian, who refused to be bought and sold, who broke the expected patterns and hierarchies?

They were defects in the system.

Errors that needed to be corrected or eliminated.

"So all these Academies, which supposedly started with the noble goal of supplying fresh warriors for the battlefields against Monsters, have somehow transformed into conditioning centers where commoners are meant to be broken down and reformed into obedient products."

Damian’s lips curved into a bitter, humorless smile as he walked aimlessly through campus.

His entire figure cut a strangely melancholic picture.

A powerful young man who’d just dominated three Imperial heirs, now wandering alone with slumped shoulders and distant eyes.

Sensing his turbulent emotions through their bond, Kuro materialized on his shoulder and looked directly into Damian’s eyes with unusual intensity.

The intelligence shining in the raven’s crimson gaze was almost unsettling.

Damian reached up to gently stroke Kuro’s dark feathers, finding comfort in the familiar gesture.

"Kuro... why does no world ever seem to have authorities that genuinely care for their people? I never understood it in either of my lives."

His voice was quiet, almost talking to himself.

"Is it because I was always an outlaw, always on the wrong side of the law? Or is there something fundamentally broken about power itself?

Why do I consistently find more humanity in the eyes of so-called criminals than I ever see in those who hold authority and make the rules?"

Kuro didn’t reply with words, but his eyes became even sharper, more focused, as if communicating something only Damian could understand through their connection.

"Right... You’re absolutely right."

Damian nodded slowly, a new determination forming.

"Why don’t we find out ourselves? When we’re the ones with authority, when we control everything, when we hold all the power in our hands... I guess we’ll finally have our answer to that question, won’t we?"

A genuine smile crossed his face, small but real.

"Maybe we’ll be different. Or maybe we’ll become exactly what we hate. Only one way to know for certain."

Damian looked up at the cloudy sky overhead, his crimson eyes filling with sharp determination that cut through the earlier melancholy like a blade.

"So what if the Clubs Committee refuses to give us official resources? I’ll acquire everything we need through my own methods."

His voice grew stronger with each sentence.

"So what if those Imperial families pressure my teachers to abandon me? I’ll learn by myself. I’ve done it before."

"So what if I lose access to their precious skills and weapon arts? I’ll create my own techniques. Better ones."

His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I never wanted to get deeply involved in all this political garbage. This Noble versus commoner bullshit is exhausting and time-consuming and completely pointless.

But time and time again, this broken system keeps standing directly in my way, blocking everything I try to build."

A cold laugh escaped his lips.

"I guess we really are enemies then. You people started this conflict. So don’t blame me when I’m the one who ends it... I’m going to dismantle this entire corrupt system that you benefit from, piece by piece, until nothing remains."

Damian’s expression shifted, becoming distant as different thoughts warred in his mind.

"I was worried before about the bigger threats. The mutated beasts growing stronger. The Monsters beyond the portals. The calamities this world is supposedly going to face according to the stories that old beggar told me in my past life."

He shook his head.

"But fuck all of that. I’m not a hero. I never wanted to be one. There are people far stronger than me who can deal with those existential threats. People who actually get paid and respected for that kind of work."

His voice turned harder, more selfish.

"I’m just one person trying to survive in a world that keeps trying to crush me. So like any smart survivor, I’ll focus on gathering resources and building power for when the real winters come. I’ll make sure my people and I survive whatever happens, and everyone else can fend for themselves."

The current Damian was a walking contradiction, though he didn’t fully realize it himself.

Ever since arriving in this world with memories of a completely different life, his mind had been occupied by too many conflicting thoughts and emotions.

He genuinely didn’t understand his own feelings half the time.

Sometimes he was genuinely kind, helping people selflessly like he’d done with the Mafia members yesterday.

Other times he was an absolute maniac, torturing enemies with a smile on his face.

Sometimes he wanted to be purely selfish and only look out for himself and his closest allies.

Other times, whenever people approached him for help, he felt an overwhelming urge to protect them even when it brought him no benefit.

His moods shifted like the wind. His goals seemed to change daily.

From start to finish, he himself didn’t truly know what choices he’d make in any given situation, what he genuinely wanted to accomplish, what he actually cared about deep down, or even what he really felt.

Everything about his identity was a mystery, even to himself.

Maybe... he was just a man who did whatever felt right in the moment, never questioning or analyzing his own motivations too deeply.

But there was one thing that had never changed across both his lives, one constant that burned like an eternal flame.

His hunger for power!

That desire blazed in his crimson eyes with intense fire that never dimmed, never wavered, never died.

Everything else might be uncertain and contradictory and confusing.

But the need to become stronger, to have enough power that nobody could ever force him into anything again?

That was absolute.

Damian stopped walking and looked at his own reflection in a window.

The face staring back at him was handsome, mature, confident.

But the eyes seemed ancient and... tired. Carrying weight that no teenager should possess.

"Let’s go, Kuro. We have work to do."

His voice was steady again, the moment of vulnerability passing like a brief storm.

"First Victor Cross and his pathetic attempt to ban the Mafia. Then we visit Tranquil City and speed up the territorial expansion. And after that..."

He smiled coldly.

"After that, we start building something these Nobles can’t ignore or suppress. Something so powerful they’ll regret ever trying to stop us."

Kuro cawed softly in agreement, his crimson eyes reflecting the same determination.

Together, they walked toward the Student Council building, ready for whatever came next.

The sadness and disappointment were still there, buried deep.

But they were fuel now. Motivation and reminder of why power mattered.

Why he could never afford to be weak again.

Why he would burn down this entire corrupt system if that’s what it took to protect what was his.

The game continued...

And Damian Valcor was done playing defense.