I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"Are you kidding me..." Ivan muttered under his breath with mild irritation as his gaze lingered on the glowing score on his arm bracer.

Rank 1: Leon Cromwell

517 Points.

It had been several hours since the exam began, and up until now, Ivan had comfortably dominated the first position.

Any other student might have been ecstatic at securing the top spot, basking in the adoration and envy of their peers. Ivan, however, saw it as an inconvenience—one he'd rather do without. To the average observer, his lack of enthusiasm for such an achievement would be baffling, even maddening.

But it wasn't his objective to get into the spotlight. In fact, Ivan had gone out of his way to avoid it, hoping to blend into the crowd. Yet, despite his best efforts, here he was—center stage, with every pair of eyes in the room glued to his name at the top of the leaderboard.

It wasn't just the other students. The academy's staff, monitoring the examination through an array of surveillance cameras, would undoubtedly be paying close attention to him now. That was the last thing he wanted right now.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. Ivan hadn't even intended to perform well. He had purposefully taken his time navigating the exam, dispatching any Demonic Entities he encountered like a model student of Ocryphia. At times, he even feigned difficulty, occasionally resorting to flashy, mana-draining techniques to make it seem as though he were struggling.

What he hadn't accounted for, however, was the sheer disparity in strength between himself and the Demonic Entities. The difference in difficulty between weaker and stronger foes was negligible to someone like him. Whether the creature was a minor pest or a high-ranking Artificial Demon, he dispatched them all with the same effortless way.

Unwittingly, his casual approach had backfired spectacularly. The higher-ranked demons he defeated had yielded substantial points, propelling him far beyond the other examinees—many of whom were esteemed prodigies of Ocryphia Academy.

Now, Ivan found himself trapped. The more attention he attracted, the harder it would be to move discreetly toward his true goal. Every action he took from this point on would be scrutinized by the academy's instructors and students alike.

Obviously he started regretting. If only he hadn't taken the childish exam even a little seriously….

If things continued at this pace, Ivan would end up with a record-breaking score by the end of the exam—an astronomical number never before achieved in Ocryphia's history. That would undoubtedly bother him a lot.

The logical move would be to stop engaging the Demonic Entities entirely, but withdrawing too suddenly might make him even more suspicious in the eyes of the academy staff.

"Where the hell are they?" Ivan muttered under his breath, closing his eyes.

His irritation wasn't without reason. He was searching for the Possessed—the agents of the Devil's Organization of Gehenna. They were expected to infiltrate the examination, targeting influential students like Lucas Whiteford, Ludivine Richmont, and Cattleya Starlight.

Ivan didn't have some omniscient knowledge about their exact location in the sprawling forest, but his unique circumstances gave him an edge. Housing a Devil within himself had heightened his sensitivity to demonic presences, and it didn't take him long to pinpoint their whereabouts.

"They're here," he murmured, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips.

Now, it was only a matter of waiting for the perfect moment to intervene. The success of his plans depended on precise timing. The first step toward gaining access to the hidden Vault of Ocryphia was within reach, but there was one irritating complication: Mordred.

Mordred was bound to involve himself in some heroic spectacle. It was all too predictable—he would undoubtedly swoop in to rescue one of the female leads in their class, either Theresa or Ludivine.

Still, as long as Mordred didn't interfere with Ivan's plans, there wouldn't be an issue. But if he did... Ivan's expression darkened briefly. Well, he'd just have to handle it.

For now, though, there was still time. The best course of action to avoid further inflating his score was to lie low. Continue your story on empire

"I'll just 'rest' for now," Ivan decided, slinging his bow over his shoulder and selecting a secluded spot away from prying eyes.

Settling down against the sturdy trunk of a tree, he let out a soft breath. Identifying the academy's surveillance cameras had been child's play for him. Even Ocryphia, with all its resources, couldn't monitor every inch of the forest. He'd found a blind spot—an area completely out of the cameras' view—and nestled himself there.

As expected, Ivan despised being watched—scrutinized like a specimen under a lens.

Why?

Was it connected to one of his other personas? Or was it simply Ivan himself—the very nature of his existence that drew such attention?

The thought stirred unpleasant memories from the depths of his mind. He couldn't help but recall his childhood, the darkest chapter of his life, when he was captured by the Holy Church. Their so-called righteous cause had reduced him to an object, a living experiment subjected for them.

The memories came in fragments, vivid and haunting. Ivan could see himself as a boy, confined to cold, sterile rooms, surrounded by men and women who observed him like a curiosity. He remembered being poked and prodded, his body cut open and stitched back together, strange substances injected into his veins.

It was pain beyond comprehension. Agony that shredded his very soul. And yet, it was also the last time he truly felt pain. After those experiments, no suffering—no matter how severe—could compare to what the Holy Church had inflicted upon him.

Then, Seraphiel had appeared.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The radiant Goddess had saved him, pulling him back from the brink of complete despair. His father and brother had come soon after, fighting to rescue him and his sisters.

But for Ivan, it was already too late. Their efforts no longer mattered.

The church had made an irrevocable mistake that day. Not because they had failed to kill him when they had the chance—but because they had kept him alive, forcing him to witness the suffering of his people, his family, and endure horrors that should have broken him. Perhaps they had expected him to die. Perhaps they hadn't cared.

They were wrong on all counts.

The memories burned, seared into his very being, impossible to erase.

As Ivan closed his eyes he searched his fractured memories of his childhood for glimpses of his mother. Her gentle face. The warmth of her smile as she doted on him. Her soothin and reassuring voice.

He could recall these pieces, but not the whole. Many of their moments together had blurred over time.

Still merely recalling or imagining what could have been made him truly happy and he let his feelings show on his face which would have been never the case if he was in his true appearance.

***

Rank 6: Ludivine Richmont

368 Points.

"..." Ludivine exhaled softly a bit exhausted as she reviewed her score.

She had been battling for hours, and fatigue was beginning to creep in. Still, she couldn't help but feel a spark of pride at seeing her name among the top ranks. Sixth place.

The gap between the top ten and the rest of the participants was staggering, almost insurmountable. Those in the upper ranks were faster and far more efficient than anyone below them.

She was about to lower her arm and move on when hesitation stopped her. Biting her lip, she gave in to temptation and glanced back at the leaderboard. What caught her attention wasn't her rank, but the names above her.

Rank 5: Lucas Whiteford

402 Points.

Rank 4: Travis Rivers

425 Points.

Rank 3: Cattleya Starlight

444 Points.

Rank 2: Erion Mistral

450 Points.

Ludivine's brows furrowed as she took in the familiar standings. The top five were tightly packed, their scores mere steps apart.

And yet, nothing had changed.

Erion Mistral, widely acknowledged as the strongest student in their class, still held second place. Which meant...

She scrolled further.

Rank 1: Leon Cromwell

517 Points.

Her breath caught briefly as her eyes fell on the name. It was the same one she had seen earlier, though this time, she wasn't as shocked. Or so she told herself.

Still, the sheer margin between him and Erion and the rest of the top five was a bit shocking.

Ludivine didn't know Leon well. In truth, she barely knew anything about him. When they had crossed paths, she hadn't pegged him as someone capable of outclassing prodigies like Erion, Cattleya, or Travis. And yet, there his name was, standing far above them all.

"...!"

Her thoughts scattered as a sudden surge of malevolent mana prickled at her senses. Reacting instinctively, Ludivine leapt onto a nearby tree branch. Bow in hand, she nocked an arrow onto the string, pulling it taut.

The Demonic Entity came into view. With perfect control, she infused the arrow with Wind Affinity before releasing it.

The arrow sliced through the air and struck the Artificial Demon with deadly precision. A headshot. The creature disintegrated into nothingness, and a notification blinked on her display: +7 Points.

Ludivine allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. But it froze the moment she lowered her gaze.

From her vantage point in the tree, she spotted someone leaning casually against a tree trunk below. A lone figure, completely at ease, as if he had no care in the world.

Leon Cromwell.

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