Footsteps echoed along the cobblestone path, still damp from last night's rain. A thin mist clung to the air, veiling the towering black castle that loomed atop the cliff. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an abandoned ruin, forgotten by time. But for those who knew the truth, this was the Royal Academy of Villains—a place where the children of the world's most notorious villains gathered.
A young boy walked among the crowd of new students. A long black cloak draped over his body, and a wide-brimmed hat shadowed most of his face. In his hand, he clutched an official document stamped with the academy's seal—an invitation that could only be obtained through the bloodline of evil.
But the invitation was not his.
"Calm down… they won't know. As long as I can keep pretending, I'll be safe."
He was Eiden Vale—the false name he would use in this place. His real name, the name his father had given him, could never be spoken. Because here, he was not the son of a hero. He was merely another "child of a villain" trying to survive in a den of wolves.
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The Entrance Hall
The massive iron gates, engraved with skulls, creaked open. One by one, the students entered the castle courtyard. The air was cold, biting at their skin, as though the place itself rejected sunlight.
Inside the grand hall, hundreds of long benches were lined up, all facing a towering podium. Gigantic portraits decorated the walls: faces of legendary villains—from mad sorcerers to bloodthirsty tyrants, to assassins whose names struck fear across continents.
The sharp tapping of a cane silenced the whispers. An old man with disheveled white hair stepped onto the podium. His eyes glowed a sickly yellow, sharp as a serpent's.
"Welcome, children of evil," he said, his voice hoarse yet commanding. "My name is Rector Malrik, once the executioner of the Empire. Starting today, the blood that flows in your veins will be tested. Here, only the strong will survive. The weak…" he smirked, "will become lessons for the rest."
Cold laughter rippled through the hall. Some students grinned, others clenched their jaws.
Eiden lowered his head, hiding his gaze. He knew one wrong look could expose everything.
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First Class
The students were divided into classes. Eiden was placed in Class 1-B, alongside dozens of other heirs of darkness. Each radiated a menacing aura—glowing crimson eyes, scarred muscular bodies, or sly grins like venomous serpents.
At the front of the room stood a tall woman with long violet hair, clad in what looked like a noble's gown. Her fingers glittered with rings made of bone.
"I am Madam Selvara," she said coldly, her eyes cutting across the room. "Once, they called me the 'Witch of Ten Curses'. From now on, you will learn how to wield the darkness in your veins properly. But remember this: every spell, every ounce of power, must be tempered in blood."
With a snap of her fingers, a boy in the front row collapsed, his body shrouded in black smoke. Gasps filled the air, but Selvara only smiled.
"See? This is the price of weakness. Never show your back to anyone in this academy. That is the only rule you need."
Eiden swallowed hard. He realized this place was far more brutal than he had imagined.
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The First Conflict
When class ended, several students surrounded Eiden. A tall boy with blazing red hair sneered at him.
"Hey, you… I've never heard of your family name. Who's your father?"
The question made Eiden's heart pound. He had rehearsed a false answer countless times, but under the piercing stares of dozens of students, his throat tightened.
"Don't panic. Remember the training. Say it calmly."
"I… am the son of Valerius the Betrayer, from the North," he replied, naming a villain long dead, one with no known heirs.
For a moment, silence. Then the red-haired boy chuckled darkly. "Hah! So you're the son of that cowardly traitor? Perfect. You'll make a fine punching bag."
Flames ignited in his palm.
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A Deadly Duel
In an instant, a circle formed in the central courtyard. Students cheered, demanding blood. No teacher intervened—for this was the academy's brutal tradition: the first blood test.
Eiden stood rigid, feeling the searing heat of his opponent's aura. Deep inside him, the power he had inherited from his father—the light of justice itself—quivered, yearning to break free.
But he could not use it. One glimmer of light, and his disguise would be shattered.
The fireball shot toward him. Eiden leapt back, the heat scorching the air around him. His mind raced.
"I cannot lose… but I cannot reveal my true power either. How am I supposed to survive in this den of demons… without becoming one of them?"
And there, his journey at the Royal Academy of Villains truly began.
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Too short? Well, it is what it is. If you don't like it, just skip it, no one's forcing you to read it anyway. The reason why there's no cover is because... I'm just lazy.