I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!

The Head Butler took a steady breath, his mind brimming with caution as he prepared to channel his mana into the enigmatic symbol. He had no idea what the symbol represented or what it was intended for, but he had little choice but to proceed. he wanted to test the waters.

He began cautiously, releasing a thin stream of mana from his core, letting it flow into the blood-drawn symbol.

At first, nothing extraordinary happened. The mana connected with the symbol's lines, almost imperceptibly at first. But mere seconds later, the air around the symbol grew heavy, and a deep, crimson glow began to emanate from its edges.

The red light pulsed rhythmically, growing brighter with each passing moment. The Head Butler's brow furrowed as he immediately sensed the growing pull on his mana reserves.

It was then he realized how dangerously wrong his assumptions had been. The symbol, now fully activated, began to devour his mana with alarming speed.

At first, the Head Butler remained composed, his seasoned control over mana honed through decades of experience allowing him to adapt quickly. With precision and restraint, he increased the flow of mana from his core, meeting the symbol's growing demands with measured adjustments.

But it wasn't long before he realized that the rate of absorption was escalating beyond his expectations. The symbol's hunger grew insatiable, drawing mana at an ever-accelerating pace.

Despite his mastery, the Head Butler soon found himself faltering—the demand had reached a point where even his carefully honed reserves could no longer keep up.

Sweat now poured down his face as his breathing grew ragged. His body trembled under the strain, his hands struggling to remain steady as he forced more mana from his core.

The Head Butler, now at his wit's end, made the decision to relinquish control over his mana flow. Unable to keep pace with the symbol's voracious absorption rate, he let the mana surge freely from his core into the glowing symbol.

For a fleeting moment, the relief of surrender seemed like a solution, allowing him to focus less on control and more on endurance. Yet, it was a decision born of desperation, and the consequences quickly became apparent.

Without proper direction, the uncontrolled mana began to get released into the air, a significant portion dissipating uselessly into the surrounding space.

The Head Butler clenched his jaw, his mind racing to rationalize his predicament. 'I have a large mana pool. I can hold on till the end,' he thought, clinging to the hope that sheer reserves would carry him through the ordeal.

But this, too, proved to be another grievous miscalculation. Time stretched painfully on, and five minutes later, the symbol showed no signs of relenting.

His once-vast mana pool was now half-depleted, and the drain showed no indication of slowing. His breathing turned ragged, his vision blurring slightly as such a high flow of mana without a moment of rest began to take its toll on his body.

Sweat drenched his face and dripped down his neck, drenched his clothes. His trembling hands barely maintained their position.

The Duke and Cassius watched helplessly as the Head Butler's condition visibly deteriorated. His face was pale, drenched in sweat, and his breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps.

Yet, bound by Ashok's strict warning, neither of them dared to intervene. The young man's words rang ominously in their minds—once the channeling of mana had begun it could not be stopped.

Ashok, standing calm amidst the chaos, observed the scene with sharp precision. Without a shred of hesitation, he extended a glowing vial toward Cassius. "Sword Saint, here. Feed this to the old man,"

Cassius hesitated, his brow furrowing. "But—" he began, his concern evident in his voice. He barely managed to get the word out before Ashok cut him off, his voice sharp and urgent. "There is no time to waste! The old man's mana pool could deplete at any moment, and if the flow stops, the repercussions will be dire. This is no time for questions."

Cassius froze for the briefest of moments before nodding reluctantly, the weight of the situation sinking in. Gripping the mana potion tightly, he moved with purpose toward the Head Butler.

The Head Butler barely registered Cassius's approach, his focus entirely consumed by the symbol's relentless pull on his mana. Cassius removed the lid of the flask with a swift motion, the faint scent of the potion wafting into the thick, tense air. Gently, but firmly, he tilted the flask toward the Head Butler's lips.

"Head Butler, please drink this," Cassius urged, his voice steady but filled with a sense of urgency.

The Head Butler, though utterly consumed by his struggle to maintain the mana flow into the ravenous symbol, couldn't help but hear the conversation unfolding in the room.

His thoughts, despite his focus, betrayed his frustration and mounting dread. 'This kid truly wants me to die,'

He knew all too well the risks associated with his current predicament. A Mana Potion, while typically a lifesaving resource for replenishing depleted reserves, was nothing short of poison under these circumstances.

His mana core was locked into a one-way process, pushing out every ounce of mana it held to fuel the relentless pull of the symbol. Introducing a Mana Potion into his system without halting the outward flow would be akin to pouring water onto a bubbling, scalding-hot stone. The result was predictable - the stone would break.

Mana Release and Mana Absorption were incompatible processes within the human body. To attempt both simultaneously was to court disaster, inviting damage to the delicate balance of the core itself. The consequences loomed large in his mind: fractures in the core, perhaps even its utter destruction. And that wasn't the only danger.

Mana Absorption under these conditions would be imperfect at best, leaving residual mana to linger within the body. Unabsorbed mana, tainted by the impurities of such a chaotic process, would seep into the delicate mana veins.

Over time, this buildup of impurities could cause blockages, crippling the potential of even the most gifted mages.

This is what happens when you mess with me, old man,' Ashok thought, his sharp eyes glinting as he watched the Head Butler struggle.

The Head Butler, however, wasn't one to crumble easily despite his deteriorating state. Even as he cursed Ashok in his heart, bitterness surging with each ragged breath, he understood the grim reality—he had no choice.

Gritting his teeth, he made the decision he'd never have considered in his younger years: he began to drink.

Once, in his youth, this kind of gamble would have been unthinkable. But now? Now he was older, wearier. The fire that once pushed him to defy the impossible had dulled over time. He had spent the best years of his life clawing his way to the pinnacle of SSS Rank.

The Head Butler's journey had been grueling, consuming decades of his lifespan, and he had long since abandoned the dream of ever transcending into the realm of the Ascended. That wall had proven impenetrable—a boundary he could no longer envision breaking through.

Sometimes, in his darker moments, he cursed the very gift that had set him apart: his rare Space Affinity. While undeniably powerful, it had brought with it endless frustration. Unlike the six natural affinities, which offered clearer paths of mastery, Space Affinity was a labyrinth of incomprehension.

Worse yet, the world itself had little to offer in the way of natural treasures to aid his growth—no herbs, no elixirs, no ancient artifacts to elevate his potential. The affinity's rarity made it an honor, but one lined with insurmountable difficulty.

'If this is what it demands, then so be it. I will give away my potential for the Young Miss. But if she is not cured...' His thoughts darkened further, his resolve hardening. 'I will make sure to kill this kid, even if it costs me my life.'

With the Head Butler's resolve the potion flowed down his throat.

The moment the cold liquid slid down his throat and reached his mana core, it was as if a hammer had struck the very foundation of his being. The Head Butler's entire body convulsed under the sheer, unrelenting pain, his core throbbing violently as though it were being shattered piece by piece.

The sensation was unbearable, a searing agony that threatened to pull him into the abyss of unconsciousness.

His vision blurred, and for a fleeting moment, he teetered on the edge of collapse. But years of discipline and an iron will kept him tethered to reality. Gritting his teeth so hard it felt as though they might crack, he forced himself to stay awake, his trembling hands clutching at the edges of the table for support.

Blood trickled from the corner of his lips, a stark testament to the internal battle raging within him.

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The Head Butler's mind raced as he fought to maintain control. He struggled to prevent the mana potion's energy from flooding into his core while simultaneously keeping the outward flow of mana steady.

It was a delicate, almost impossible balance—like trying to hold back a tidal wave while still allowing a stream to flow freely. The conflicting forces within his body threatened to tear him apart, each second stretching into an eternity.

.....

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