CHAPTER 70: BRAD AND PUG’S PLOY

’That means I’ll be interacting with the main cast a lot sooner than I thought.’ he mumbled inwardly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He could already picture their faces—the so-called "heroes" of the story, those destined for greatness in the original timeline.

He lifted his head again, his eyes meeting the knight general’s.

Her expression was cool and unreadable as always, though her piercing gaze hinted at a sharpness that could cut through lies and weakness alike.

He stepped forward slightly, offering her a polite, almost charming smile.

"Thanks..." he said calmly. "For this opportunity."

The knight general studied him for a brief moment. Her sharp eyes swept over his calm demeanor, his composed tone, his lack of arrogance despite awakening a unique class.

Then she simply nodded once, her hair swaying lightly as she turned back to address the chief and the remaining crowd.

As she turned, Damien’s eyes flashed faintly as he stared at her huge, supple behind.

Even though they were still covered in the thick pants she was putting on, he could see the cheeks jiggle slightly.

However, that perverted glint vanished almost immediately, replaced by that same neutral calm that cloaked him like a veil.

He slipped the golden card into his pocket and turned away from the crystal, walking toward the exit of the fenced area.

His boots crunched lightly against the dirt as he moved, the murmurs of awe and envy trailing behind him like whispers carried on the wind.

Every step he took seemed to echo differently now.

The same villagers who used to mutter insults and point fingers behind his back now stared at him with wide, stunned eyes.

The same youths who once sneered at him now looked at him as though he were something holy.

Shock, admiration, even fear flickered across their faces—emotions he had never been on the receiving end of before.

Damien didn’t bother looking back at them, though he could feel their gazes pressing on him from all directions.

Instead, he exhaled softly, a faint breath of calm air leaving his lips.

’If Claire and Nora had come...’ he thought, ’I wonder how they would’ve felt watching this.’

He could almost picture them standing somewhere in the crowd—Claire’s gentle eyes brimming with tears of joy, and Nora’s shocked face.

They had both offered to come with him that morning, insisting they wanted to see him awaken his class with their own eyes. But he had refused—firmly.

He knew how cruel this village could be.

How every time Claire or Nora stepped outside, they drew looks of contempt and mockery, no matter how much time had passed.

He didn’t want them to go through that again. Not today.

So he told them to stay home—to wait for him there.

That way, they wouldn’t have to endure the cruel eyes or the hateful murmurs that always followed them wherever they went.

’Besides.’ he thought with a faint, perverted smile as he approached the crowd’s edge, ’it’ll be a lot more satisfying to see their reactions when I tell them myself.’

The crowd instinctively parted to make way for him—the same crowd that once wouldn’t even let him walk among them without sneering.

Some of them still whispered in hushed tones, unable to comprehend how he, of all people, had been chosen by fate.

But Damien didn’t bother sparing them a single glance.

Then, without another word, he turned his back on the field and began walking away—his lips curling into a smug smirk as the murmurs behind him grew fainter.

—

A few minutes later, he had already gone past the village center, where the awakening ceremony was being held.

Since most of the villagers were still gathered up at the ceremony, the village was rather scanty with only few people walking here and there.

Damien walked leisurely along the narrow dirt path that wound through the village, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

Suddenly, he slowed his pace slightly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He then turned his head around, easily catching sight of a short, fat figure ducking awkwardly behind a wooden stall a few meters back.

Damien exhaled softly, the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

He stopped walking and turned around fully, his expression bored but faintly amused.

"Come on, pig," he said dryly, his tone dripping with lazy mockery. "At least try not to be obvious when following me."

The round boy behind the stall—Pug—froze instantly. His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, his brain seemed to stop working altogether.

Then, in his panic to react, he tried to step forward—but his short legs tangled over themselves, and with a loud thud, he fell face-first into the dirt.

Dust puffed up around him in a small cloud, covering his short body almost completely.

Pug’s round face turned beet red as he pushed himself up from the ground, dirt streaking across his cheeks and clothes.

His tiny hands clenched into trembling fists as he glared up at Damien, his chubby lips quivering with rage.

"Did you just call me... pig?" he demanded, his voice shaking but loud.

Damien tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, with a careless shrug, he said, "Oh? Did I?"

His tone was nonchalant—light, almost teasing, as if the words he’d said earlier had been nothing but an afterthought.

That only made Pug angrier. His nostrils flared, his face puffing redder by the second. He jabbed a fat finger toward Damien, his breath coming out in loud, wheezing huffs.

"You—" he began, but before he could finish, another voice echoed from behind.

"You’ve gotten cocky... you trash."

Damien didn’t even need to turn around to recognize it.

That bitter, hoarse tone—filled with barely contained anger and humiliation—belonged to none other than Brad.

Still, he turned his head slowly, his expression remaining calm.

From behind one of the nearby buildings, Brad emerged, his form casting a short shadow across the path.

His enormous belly wobbled slightly with every step, the movement grotesquely exaggerated beneath his tight shirt.

His eyes were red, swollen from crying, and his teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw trembled with rage.

"Ah..." Damien said evenly, his tone faintly amused. "You also came out."

He turned to face them fully now, his gaze cool and unbothered.

He’d already noticed them both following him a few minutes after he left the ceremony—their attempts at stealth were pathetic, almost laughable.

Pug’s heavy footsteps and Brad’s clumsy movements were impossible to miss.

’Another stupid ploy,’ he thought, watching the pair. ’Obviously.’

He didn’t need to guess what this was about.

Brad’s humiliation back at the ceremony was still fresh, and his pride had taken a severe blow. There was no way he would let the day end without trying to take it out on someone.

And who better to target than the one who had stolen the spotlight from him?

Damien sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair.

"I already expected this," he murmured under his breath, his expression never losing that detached calm.

"When I first heard it, I couldn’t believe is." Brad said, gnashing his teeth. "You really look... different."

He had heard from Pug how much Damien’s appearance had changed, but refused to believe it, until now, when he was looking directly at him.