A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

”You look like you haven’t eaten properly in a while,” Andras said.

Eli lowered his head.

”I... sometimes get food.”

”From where?”

”People give it to me.”

”And when they don’t?”

The boy remained silent.

Andras didn’t need an answer. He already understood.

He looked at the child again. The System window floated quietly in his vision, unchanged.

[Talent: Clone (A-Rank) — Unawakened]

Four years.

That was roughly how long remained before the boy would naturally awaken, assuming he survived that long. Four years was a long time. The child could die of hunger or illness before then. Someone else could discover him. The talent could be wasted on a life that would never amount to anything.

Andras could simply wait and see what happened.

But why?

He already possessed a method to acquire talents. And he had just found something with extraordinary potential. There was no reason to leave such an opportunity to chance.

Andras looked at Eli.

”Come with me.”

The boy glanced toward the carriage, uncertain.

”Where?”

”Somewhere you can eat.”

A fragile spark of hope appeared in the child’s hollow eyes. He took a cautious step forward.

Andras watched him for a moment, expression indifferent. The decision had already been made. He did not need the boy. He needed the talent.

”Come,” he said again.

Eli followed.

They walked away from the main road, moving toward a quieter stretch where the trees grew denser and the sounds of travelers faded. Eli’s steps were hesitant. Every few seconds he glanced at Andras’s back, as though he still could not believe someone had stopped for him.

Andras did not look back.

His thoughts remained cold and practical. A talent capable of producing copies of the user was inherently valuable. If the clones could share memories, the possibilities expanded. If they could use the original’s techniques, they expanded further. And if they could eventually inherit other abilities...

He stopped speculation there. He did not need to know the full limits yet. The talent was worth acquiring. That was enough.

When they had moved far enough that the road was no longer visible, Andras stopped.

Eli almost walked into him.

”Sir?”

Andras turned.

For a moment he simply looked at the boy. The child was too thin. His clothes were worn through in places. His body showed the clear signs of prolonged hunger. There was nothing remarkable about him—except for the talent hidden inside.

Andras’s expression remained calm.

”Wait here.”

Eli nodded obediently.

Andras glanced around once. The area was empty. No travelers. No farmers. No witnesses.

Good.

He moved.

What followed happened slowly, as if the world itself had decided to stretch the moment.

Andras’s hand rose. Mana gathered silently along his fingers—not in a flashy spell, but in a precise, controlled compression. He stepped forward. Eli looked up, still trusting, still waiting for the food he had been promised.

Andras’s hand closed around the boy’s thin neck.

Eli’s eyes widened. His small hands flew up instinctively, clutching at Andras’s wrist. His mouth opened, but no sound came out—only a choked, breathless gasp. His legs kicked weakly against the dirt. The hope that had appeared in his eyes only moments earlier shattered into pure, animal confusion.

Andras did not increase the pressure immediately. He held it steady, watching with detached focus as the boy’s face began to change color. The thin fingers scraping at his wrist grew weaker. The kicking slowed. Eli’s eyes, wide and wet, stared up at him with a question that would never be answered.

Why?

Andras gave no answer.

He applied the final measure of force.

Eli’s body went limp.

Andras caught him before he hit the ground and lowered the small form carefully onto the dirt. The entire sequence had taken less than half a minute, yet every detail remained sharp in his perception—the texture of the boy’s skin, the fading resistance, the exact moment the pulse stopped.

There was no satisfaction in Andras’s expression.

No anger.

No hesitation.

Only calculation.

He had decided on this outcome the moment he saw the talent. Everything afterward had simply been execution.

A passing thought crossed his mind.

It was better that Lyra was not here.

If she had witnessed this, he would have needed to give her a reason. Perhaps she would have questioned him. Perhaps her attachment would have been strong enough to accept it without explanation. He did not know where that attachment ended, and he had no interest in finding out. Her absence made things simpler.

Andras looked down at the still body.

Then he activated the System.

”Devour the talent.”

[Ding!]

[Beginning talent absorption process.]

[Talent successfully absorbed.]

[Host has acquired: Clone (A-Rank) — Unawakened]

A second notification followed almost immediately.

[Ding!]

[Talent Clone (A-Rank) has been successfully awakened.]

Andras’s eyes narrowed slightly.

So the System had not only taken the dormant talent—it had awakened it within him at once.

He closed the interface and looked down at Eli one final time. The child had possessed something valuable. Now it belonged to him. There was no guilt. No regret. The boy’s age, his hunger, his circumstances—none of it had influenced the decision. Andras cared about only one thing.

Value.

He straightened, brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve, and raised one hand.

A First Circle fire spell formed at his fingertips. He fed it more mana than necessary. Flames erupted, controlled and intense, engulfing the small body completely. He maintained the spell until nothing remained but ash and scorched earth. When the last of the fire died, he scattered the ashes with a light wave of mana, erasing even that trace.

Then he turned and walked back toward the carriage.

The coachman straightened the moment he appeared.

”Young Master?”

”Continue.”

”Yes, Young Master.”

Andras entered the carriage and sat down. The seat was still warm. He leaned back and looked out the window as the wheels began turning once more.

The road stretched ahead toward Ambrose Academy.

Darkmoor was already behind him.

And now, along with everything else he had gained, he carried something new.

An A-Rank talent.

Clone.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Andras’s lips for a fraction of a second.

Then it disappeared.

He closed his eyes and began examining the newly awakened ability as the carriage rolled on.