I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"Today, you're getting a new classmate."

The words came from a stunning woman in her late thirties. Her sleek black hair framed her face, but her expression was less than thrilled. This was Janeece Ranberg, the professor for Exorcism Case Analysis and Tactical Response—a course every student knew was no joke.

At her announcement, the first-year Elite students in the lecture hall broke into a flurry of surprised whispers.

A new student? In the middle of the semester? That was unheard of—especially for the Elite Class. Four months had passed since the term began, and they'd just returned from a week-long break. The timing of the announcement was convenient, sure, but still shocking. If someone was joining now, they had to be either a prodigy, someone with serious connections, or both.

"You may enter," Janeece said, turning toward the door.

The heavy door creaked open, and in walked a young man who looked like he was in his late teens.

Gasps rippled through the hall—mostly from the girls.

This guy was stunning. The kind of handsome you only saw in magazines or movies. His loose blonde hair framed his face perfectly, but it was his eyes that truly caught everyone's attention. A deep hue of red. He carried himself with a swagger that said: 'I own this place.'

His small smirk didn't help either—it was the perfect mix of charm and arrogance. But beneath the polished exterior, his attitude felt entirely out of place in the prestigious academy.

As expected, the male students weren't impressed. Frowns popped up across the room. One of them was especially not hiding his hatred and anger but James ignored it.

"Introduce yourself," Professor Ranberg said not really caring about it. If he was here he deserved it.

The new arrival stepped onto the stage, his red eyes scanning the room. First, they landed on Aaron, then shifted to the student beside him.

His face was definitely that of Leon Cromwell, but in reality, this wasn't Leon. It was Gorn, possessing a body that Davon Crook had once called his own. Had been spent a full week ensuring the body was ready to bypass the academy's extensive security measures.

But at the end it seemed the gamble had paid off.

All thanks to Adam's genius and Ivan's Stigma, also Urvan's help.

The moment Gorn laid eyes on James, he shot to his feet, instinctively ready to drop to his knees in a salute to his Lord Astaroth. Thankfully, Aaron acted fast, grabbing Gorn's arm and yanking him back into his seat with enough force to avoid a full-blown spectacle.

"Sit down!" Aaron whispered, barely masking his irritation. The last thing he needed was Gorn embarrassing both of them—and by extension, Ivan. At this point, Aaron had stopped questioning why his lord appeared in so many different forms. It was strange, sure, but he'd accepted it as another layer of divine mystery.

James, now standing at the front of the lecture hall, gave a polite smile. "James Arnold Grayling. You can call me James or Arnold," he said casually.

Professor Ranberg waited for a moment, expecting him to elaborate, but when it became clear he wouldn't, she simply gestured toward the seats.

"You may take a seat," she said.

With a nod, James strode up the stairs, ignoring the rows in the front. He passed the section where Aaron and Leon were seated without a second glance, continuing all the way to the back.

The right side of the last rows was already claimed—Lucas Whiteford and his gang occupied the seats there, with Cattleya Starlight and her entourage one row below. The left side, however, was empty. Without hesitation, James settled himself in the farthest corner, as if the unspoken rules about the back rows didn't exist.

Professor Ranberg shot him a brief, disapproving look but didn't comment. She turned her attention back to the lecture, clearly ready to move on.

Meanwhile, Lucas's followers exchanged threatening glares with James, though he didn't seem to notice—or care. For them, the back rows were sacred territory. Lucas had made it clear that the highest seats were his personal throne, a declaration of his superiority. No one dared to challenge that unspoken claim—until now. To Lucas's crew, James's decision to sit there wasn't bold; it was just plain ignorant.

Cattleya Starlight, on the other hand, cast James a quick, curious glance from her seat below. She didn't say anything, and James didn't acknowledge her either, sitting back, waiting for the lecture to start.

Professor Ranberg raised a hand over her desk, and a glowing projection materialized above it.

"Today, we're going to study a peculiar case of exorcism that occurred on New Earth three years ago," she said.

The projection shifted to reveal the image of a young girl, no older than ten with an innocent smile on her lips.

"This girl's name is Nora Baker. The only daughter of the modest Baker family. For most of her life, everything seemed perfectly normal. But that all changed one day at school when Nora's behavior took a dark turn."

The projection flickered, revealing a gruesome image: a deep wound on a boy's arm, jagged and raw, as though some wild animal had bit in it. The surrounding flesh was blackened, blood clotted and sickly.

"Not long after, the boy succumbed to his injuries. The police were called in, and soon the case made its way to the World Order. Although the World Order had their own team of Exorcists, they couldn't make headway after months of trying. That's when they reached out to the Council of Paranormal Cases in Arcadia, a group far better equipped for handling such matters."

The projection shifted again, this time showing an elderly man dressed in stark black robes, a golden emblem engraved on the chest, the insignia of the Council.

"A Master I-Rank Exorcist was dispatched to handle Nora's exorcism. The Exorcist seemed to make progress at first."

Another clip began to play.

"Aaarrgh! Stop!"

"P-Please… Mommy…"

"I-It hurts…"

"Someone help!"

Nora's cries pierced the room as the Exorcist continued his grim work. The attendees watched the scene seriously, observing every detail for its instructional value. For them, it was more than an exorcism—it was a rare chance to learn.

But one person in the crowd wasn't focused on the lesson. James.

He had been smiling up to this point, his usual carefree demeanor intact. But as Nora's screams filled the air, his expression shifted. The sight of the girl writhing in pain darkened his expression.

Exorcisms and Exorcists—they were things Ivan had long hated and that hatred was inherited by all the others Antagonists. Ivan's disdain had deep roots, stretching back to his childhood, to when he was just seven years old. Back then, in a village in Ruthenia, on New Earth, his life had been forever scarred by the arrival of the Holy Church.

Under the guise of exorcising them for allegedly worshipping Seraphiel—an Evil Goddess—the Holy Church unleashed devastation upon Ivan's village. They burned homes, slaughtered families, and took the children for twisted experiments.

Ivan was among those captured, along with his two sisters, his elder brother, and two others from the village, Ludmila and Mikhail. The five of them were subjected to unthinkable torment, but Ivan bore the worst of it. When he begged the captors to spare his sisters, he offered himself in their place.

The Church agreed.

From then on, Ivan became their main subject. For an entire month, they tortured and experimented on him continuously, hour after hour, day after day. They denied him sleep, broke his body, and tried to twist his mind. Despite the agony, Ivan clung to hope—praying to anyone who might hear him.

It wasn't the Church's so-called holy powers that answered.

It was Seraphiel.

In his darkest moments, her presence reached him, he felt her touch, soothing a little of his agonizing pain. It was a small mercy, but one that left an indelible mark.

Eventually, Ivan's father came for them, rescuing his children and their friends from the Church's grip. But by then, it was too late. The scars—physical and emotional—ran too deep. Among the survivors, Ivan bore the heaviest burden.

Now, standing in the lecture room, James's gaze was cold and detached as he watched the young girl on the screen, writhing under the Exorcist's spells of light. Her anguished face blurred in his mind, overlapping with memories: his sisters, Ludmila, Kamila—the faces of those who had suffered as he had.

"The exorcism lasted a month," the professor continued. "In the end, Nora was saved. But the ordeal left her unable to walk or speak. Now, she lives peacefully with her family."

The projection shifted, showing Nora in a wheelchair, her expression blank, her eyes hollow.

"Wow, she looks so peaceful, doesn't she?" James's voice rang out accompanied by a dry laugh.

The room fell silent, every head turning toward him. Even the professor stared, speechless.

"What?" James pointed at the screen, his tone light but dripping with sarcasm. "Look at her! Doesn't she just scream happiness?"

"Do you have a question, Mr. Grayling?" Janeece asked sternly.

James leaned back lazily, a grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I was just wondering... was it the demon possession that hurt her, or the Exorcist?"

The hall collectively froze. Every pair of eyes turned toward James, jaws dropping in disbelief.
Continue your saga on empire

Was he seriously comparing demons to Exorcists?

"The Exorcists are saving them, you idiot!" Theresa Mistral snapped, standing up.

"Saving them?" James laughed. "It looks more like torturing to me."

Janeece's frown deepened as she shot back, "The exorcism process is a necessary pain. It's what frees the victims from possession and gives them their lives back."

James tilted his head, his tone icy. "If saving someone means inflicting more pain on people who are already broken—on little girls, no less—then the people doing the exorcisms? I'd call them dumb and incompetent."

The temperature in the room dropped as Janeece's gaze hardened. "You're here to graduate as an Exorcist, Mr. Grayling. By now, you should understand the complexities of this job. If the sight of blood or the reality of what it takes is too much for you, you're welcome to leave."

A ripple of mocking chuckles and murmurs spread through the classroom, students exchanging smug glances.

But James simply smiled, pushing his chair back and standing up. "You are right."

Without waiting for another word, he stepped onto the desk in front of him, ignoring the curses and protests from his classmates. With a smirk, he hopped from desk to desk, making his way to the door.

The room buzzed with disbelief and annoyance, but James didn't care. He threw the door open and walked out, his swift exit leaving the classroom in stunned silence.