I Enrolled as the Villain Chapter 26: kindness Is The Final Sword

Morning ca too early.

I stood at the edge of the training ground, eyes heavy, breath thin in the cold air.

I’ve been following everything you said, Kael.

Every stance. Every pause. Every word.

I repeated your instructions until my hands bled. Until the weight of the blade felt like a part of .

But still...

Why?

Why can’t I do it?

You said it needed feeling. That rejection gives the sword weight.

So I searched.

I dug into the deepest corners of myself mories I never let surface.

The locked door.

The cold room.

The voice that never called back.

I closed my eyes, gripping the hilt.

And then—

I lunged forward.

The blade scread through the air, wide and wild, crashing into the far wall.

Stone shattered. Dust exploded. Pieces of the structure broke apart like paper in the wind.

Silence followed.

My shoulders trembled.

Not from the strain.

But from sothing deeper.

Is that enough for you, Kael?

Or do I still not understand?

The silence lingered.

Dust still hung in the air, drifting slowly through the morning light.

I stared at the damage a wide, gaping slash across the training wall, debris scattered, the impact leaving a deep scar that trailed like a wound.

So this is what you want to teach him?

Arthur?

Then why not us? Why not ?

Isn’t this what I’ve always trained for?

Isn’t this the blade you were supposed to forge?

My breath caught in my chest, stuck behind questions I couldn’t ask out loud.

Footsteps approached — hesitant, careful.

"Vice Leader...?"

I turned.

It was Jessa.

She stood a few feet away, holding her practice blade with both hands, knuckles white.

"There’s only... two hours left before sunrise," she said quietly. "Can we—can we rest for a bit?"

Her voice trembled slightly near the end.

Behind her, I saw the others.

Valerys from Class A, Class B, even three from Elite.

All of them exhausted.

Shirts soaked. Hands blistered. One student was sitting with her back against the wall, breathing too hard. Another’s blade had snapped in half, still clutched in shaking fingers.

They had followed .

Tried to copy .

Tried to match what I was chasing.

And now...

They were breaking.

One by one.

Just like I am.

My fingers loosened on the hilt of my sword.

I looked at Jessa — eyes tired, but still full of faith.

Waiting for to speak.

To lead.

Was I too soft? Is that why he chose soone else?

Jessa waited, blade lowered.

The others didn’t speak — but their eyes said enough.

They were tired. Breaking. Human.

But the old Kael wouldn’t have cared.

And neither would I.

So I straightened my spine, raised my voice just enough to carry across the field, and said:

"No."

A few students flinched. Jessy’s jaw tightened.

"This is Valery. We don’t stop just because it hurts."

I stepped forward, letting my shadow fall long across the training floor.

"Or are you saying my lead is a mistake?"

Silence.

No one answered.

Because that was the rule: under Valery command, there was no room for doubt. Not from them. Not from .

Even if... just for a second...

I wasn’t sure anymore.

But I kept my face still. My hand firm.

"Back in position," I said.

They obeyed.

Of course they did.

That’s what we were trained to do follow the na, even if the one carrying it can barely rember who they’re supposed to be.

Hour passed.

Only ten minutes left until class began.

I stood at the edge of the training court, breath steady. The others... weren’t.

Every Valery student lay slumped across the floor — trembling, sweat-drenched, swords cracked or dropped at their feet. So were hunched over. One girl had thrown up quietly in the far corner. Another’s hands were blistered red, gripping a training blade that had long since splintered.

They’d lasted longer than I expected.

But not long enough.

One of the students — Jessy, maybe — stepped forward, voice barely a whisper.

"Vice leader... we... we can’t continue. It’s almost class ti. We should pre—"

"Shut it."

My voice rang louder than I ant it to.

The Lumigan flared.

Golden. Blinding. Unyielding.

Their eyes lowered, instinctively. The Valery bloodlines bowed before power — especially a power like this. I saw their jaws tighten. Their knees wobble back to ready position.

Good.

"We’re not done."

I stepped forward, letting the light from my eye flicker across their faces.

"We will skip class. We will train until I say stop. Until I’m satisfied."

The silence that followed was thick — not respect. Not fear.

Sothing else.

Then—

A voice rose.

From the second row, a boy from Class B slowly lifted his head. His eye swollen, shoulder sagging from a misaligned stance. But he looked right at .

And said:

"You’re not Kael."

It landed like a crack across my cheek.

Everything froze.

The Lumigan dimd for half a second.

I didn’t move.

No one did.

He wasn’t trying to insult . He wasn’t even defying . It was sothing worse.

He was stating a fact.

One I had refused to acknowledge.

I’m not Kael.

Not the one they followed.

Not the one I trained beside.

Not the one who carried silence like a sword and still made them move.

Just .

Lucia.

Holding his sword.

Wielding his na.

But never truly him.

And suddenly... I didn’t know what to say.

————-

Ten minutes into class.

I sat near the back, usual spot. Quiet. Eyes half-closed.

But sothing was... off.

The Valery seats were empty.

All of them.

No Jessy. No Alric. Not even Lucia.

Sothing’s wrong.

I had planned to confront Lucia after school — quietly, when things were calm.

But now?

I’d have to change the plan.

I glanced at my syncwatch.

08:00.

Class ti.

Instructor Elsin stepped up to the podium, sharp heels clicking against the stone tile. She scanned the room, her gaze pausing where it always found certainty.

But it wasn’t there.

She frowned. "Valery bloods... absent?" she muttered aloud. "That’s a first."

A ripple passed through the class — quiet whispers, quick glances.

So students whispered theories.

Others didn’t bother.

Most of them just looked at .

Their eyes didn’t need to ask the question.

Was the one they feared.

The one they watched.

I need to take action now. I have to find Lucia — and the others.

I stood from my seat, ready to speak—

But then—

The doors slamd open.

The entire class turned.

A single Valery student staggered in — soaked in sweat, collar half-unbuttoned, a shallow cut across his cheek.

His breathing was ragged. Sword case dragging behind him. His uniform? Scorched along the edges. Dirt clung to the hems like he had crawled through ash.

He didn’t look at anyone. Just bowed stiffly.

"...I’m sorry," he gasped out, trying to bow.

"We... Vice Leader Lucia said we weren’t done training. We didn’t an to—"

He collapsed into his seat without finishing the sentence.

Instructor Elsin’s gaze sharpened.

The other students even the loud ones said nothing.

Because now they weren’t looking at the late student anymore.

They were all looking at .

Valery’s heir.

Valery’s monster.

Valery’s silence.

Instructor Elsin narrowed her eyes.

"So. Training over class, is it?"

No one laughed.

And I didn’t answer her.

But inside, i already knew.

Lucia’s breaking.

I didn’t need to see her sword. I could already hear the pieces falling.

And this ti she was dragging the rest with her.

As I stood, my hand clenched harder than I realized.

Across the room, Renan moved first. He approached the injured Valery student without hesitation and knelt beside him.

A soft glow blood from his palm — healing light, steady and practiced.

No words.

Just action.

Then, after a pause, Renan looked up.

"...Where are the others?"

The student flinched.

He didn’t answer.

Not out of rudeness.

But out of sothing heavier.

Fear.

Or maybe... loyalty.

Even in pain, even half-collapsed — they still wouldn’t speak.

That was Valery.

I stepped forward. Slowly.

Stopped just in front of him.

The boy’s breath hitched, his eyes wide — not from fear of punishnt, but recognition.

Of who I was.

I lowered my voice.

Not a command.

Just... a question.

"Where are the others?"

His shoulders finally dropped.

A slow breath escaped his lips, like he’d been holding it all day.

"...They’re still at the Valery training grounds," he whispered.

Then, more quietly — with sothing close to reverence:

"Lord Kael."

My hand reached the student’s shoulder — steady, firm.

I looked at him, then at Renan.

And said, quietly:

"...Thank you."

Renan blinked. His eyes widened for a mont — just a flicker — then softened.

He nodded once and returned to healing, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I turned toward the front of the room.

"Instructor—"

"Go," Elsin said before I could finish.

Her voice was crisp. No hesitation.

And I went.

I ran.

I didn’t run because Elsin said yes.

I ran because I was afraid of what I’d find.

And I was too late.

Through the halls. Past the marble floor. Past students who turned to watch.

And then—

I reached it.

The Valery training ground.

I stopped just at the edge.

The air was thick with sweat, with blood, with sothing worse.

Familiar.

But not mine.

Not truly.

A mory that didn’t belong to ... but to the old Kael.

This place.

This rhythm of steel and breath.

This... ritual of pain.

All around , students trembled. Dragging blades too heavy for their hands. Limbs shaking. Uniforms soaked through. So were muttering to themselves under their breath like a mantra—

"Rejection... rejection... rejection..."

I saw Jessa retch into the floor, barely able to breathe. Her hands shook too much to hold her sword.

Then—

"What the hell do you think you’re doing? Vomiting? You think Valery’s soft now?!"

A boy stepped forward — Class A. Broad-shouldered. Smug.

The sa one who used to mock Arthur in the halls.

He didn’t wait.

His boot slamd into Jessy’s ribs.

She gasped, folding in on herself.

No one moved to stop him.

And he didn’t look sorry.

Behind them, more students barked insults not at enemies, but at each other.

"It’s about ti soone finished what Lucia started with that Valeheart runt," one muttered, cracking his knuckles.

Another snorted. "Where’s Pike? He’d know how to deal with filth like that. Send him back in pieces."

They didn’t even whisper.

They wanted to be heard.

Another voice joined in.

"Kael wouldn’t have hesitated. You all rember what he almost did to the Crown Princess. That’s real Valery. Not this weak hesitation."

At that mont i realized

They’re becoming...

No.

They already had.

There—across the field.

Lucia.

She wasn’t barking orders. Wasn’t watching the others.

She was just training.

Alone.

Blade swinging. Over and over.

Each strike was flawless.

Each breath asured.

Each step perfect.

And none of it mattered.

She wasn’t getting stronger.

She was trying to erase the weakness Kael never said she had.

And behind her—

The house of Valery cracked.

One wound at a ti.

And-

They were becoming what I used to be...

Not because they believed in strength.

But because they believed my sins were a tradition.

And right now, Lucia was letting them believe it.

Was this what they thought I wanted?

Was this what I left behind?

Did they think I made monsters — so they beca them?

Are the Valery always dood to be the villains?

To bear the curse of hatred — like in the novel?

...No.

Even if we’re flawed Evelyne, Lucia, Elira

, — I’ll stay.

Until sothing better grows.

So I stepped forward.

Each Valery turned to look.

Tired eyes. Shaking hands. So forced themselves upright when they saw . They stopped mid-swing, mid-word as if my presence pulled the poison from the air.

Even Lucia.

Her blade slowed... then stilled.

I walked across the field the dirt scuffed, stained with sweat, cracked from overuse.

And then I said, voice firm but calm:

"Stop what you’re doing."

Lucia’s sword slipped from her fingers.

The clang echoed across the stone floor — sharp, final.

Just like the first ti I spoke to her.

"Why?"

The word cut through the air.

I looked around. Then at her eyes.

Red. A vivid, burning red — with the Lumigan pulsing at the center like a sun behind glass.

They say the Valery eye the Ketsugan, the Lumigan — sees what others cannot.

The unseen. The hidden. The true.

But even with eyes like that...

Valery are always blind to the Myth.

I stepped forward, voice low but trembling with urgency.

"Can’t you see it, Lucia? With your own eyes—what’s happening to you? To them?"

She looked around. The Lumigan flared — golden and radiant, flooding the field with light.

But her voice... was quiet.

"No," she said.

"Even with my Lumigan... I can’t."

My hand clenched. My voice cracked, rising with sothing almost like grief.

"You don’t need the brightest sun to see when sothing is broken!"

She didn’t back down.

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

"Kael... I think you’re the one who’s blind."

I blinked.

"...What?"

She stepped closer, the Lumigan in her eyes burning gold like it saw through .

"Maybe you’re sick," she said.

The words hit harder than I expected.

"Sick...?"

She tilted her head — not mocking, not cruel. Just cold.

"That’s why you’ve gone soft. Too soft."

Lucia didn’t stop.

She took another step forward, voice rising — not in volu, but weight.

"Think about it, Kael."

"You gave up your heirship. Handed it to your sister — even when you had the strength, the vision, the future in your hands."

She stared at . Hard.

"You defeated in our duel. Effortlessly. You could’ve led. You should’ve led."

Her voice cracked — just slightly.

"But instead... you defended him. That damn Valeheart. That damn Arthur."

"You give him your ti. Your knowledge. Your legacy."

She took a breath — but it was shaking now.

"Why... why couldn’t it be us, Kael?"

"Your blood. Your own House."

I stayed silent.

But she didn’t.

"You said it when we were younger — that I would be your sword."

Her eyes were red with the flare of Lumigan. Her hand trembled.

"But do you even need your sword anymore?"

She looked like sothing breaking. Sothing betrayed.

"You abandoned your sword, Kael."

Lucia’s voice dropped lower.

"Do you rember, Kael?"

I looked at her, but I already knew.

"You once said... the House would bloom. That one day, the sky above Valery would be clear enough for flowers to grow."

She took a step forward. Her breath hitched.

"But then..."

Her eyes locked to mine.

"You locked in that room."

The words stabbed deeper than they should have.

"That dark room," she whispered.

"You said it was for training. That I needed to learn. That one day... I’d understand."

I swallowed.

She wasn’t shouting. She wasn’t angry.

She was rembering.

And then—

Her eye pulsed.

The Lumigan spiraled.

One line.

Two.

And then—

A third.

Gold light flared like fire behind glass.

Stage Three.

That shouldn’t be possible.

"Lucia..." I stepped forward, but her hand rose — not to strike, but to steady herself.

"You’re too soft now," she said quietly.

"You gave up everything. For strangers. For him."

The third ring in her eye burned brighter.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t wipe it away.

It just... fell.

"That’s why I’ll guide you."

Her voice didn’t carry hatred.

It carried a vow.

Suddenly, her body collapsed.

Thud.

The sound echoed across the training ground.

And then—

silence.

Louder than anything else.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

For a mont, even the wind held its breath.

Then two Valerys rushed forward. Hands shaking, eyes wide, they lifted Lucia carefully, almost reverently, and carried her away.

The rest?

They hesitated.

But only for a breath.

Then they picked up their blades again.

Tired hands. Splintered hilts.

Broken stances, forced back into motion.

As if nothing had happened.

As if collapse was just another part of training.

I didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop them.

I turned, and walked away.

In silence.