Astral villain system: The saint's demonic ascension

CHAPTER ONE

Ascension Pavillion

The name tasted like ash in Theon Dravorn's mouth. This place carried lots of bad memories. After today, things will probably get worse because of what he had planned.

Today marked the first day of the School Ranking Tournament—a week-long trial held once a year. A stage where every student’s progress was laid bare… and those who failed to advance were exposed without mercy.

On the stage, the Celestial dean drones on about the ongoing contest, and what was expected of all. He was dressed in soft red robes, which looked ordinary but had power rippling underneath.

Others stared with admiration. Theon’s eyes were filled with desperation and calculation.

“Alright, that would be all for today. Any questions before we open the monster hunting portal?”

A formality really. No one dared to truly question the celestial dean, Archmage Solvyn Vane.

Just as he turned to leave, someone raised a hand in the crowd. The person was tall, impossible to miss amidst the crowd of more than a thousand students.

Solvyn's eyes narrowed. There was only one student who would dare to do that in the entire Nyxar academy. One who dares to look him in the eye and challenge him.

“Who's the idiot raising his hand?”

“Isn't that the monumental disgrace of Nyxar Dominion? Theon Dravorn.”

“He's still stuck in the spirit gathering realm after all these years. While his mates are already grand masters. It's really embarrassing having to breathe the same air as him.”

Theon's chest tightened, and a lump formed in his throat. The whispers weren't exactly quiet. Those speaking intended for him to hear. And know what they really thought about him. In Nyxar Dominion, strength was the only standard. And he had none. Daily humiliation was a given.

When someone had to live for years under the judgement of others, one thing happens. They grow a thick skin.

Solvyn's eyes turned piercing, thinly veiled disdain flashing in his eyes for a brief second. But the ceremonial smile he always pasted on his face to give off the aura of a benevolent transcendent immortal towards the students quickly replaced it, blooming like a perfectly placed flower.

“Theon, dear. Do you have anything to say?”

Theon's eyes turned sharp, mind temporarily tuning out the mockery drowning him. He stopped at the foot of the stage and looked up.

Solvyn was standing with other powerful mages and professors, the most powerful teachers and enforcers in the academy. Most would collapse under their combined auras, trembling uncontrollably.

But Theon, the useless one said to not have an ounce of cultivation, stood tall, fists slightly clenched.

His teacher, Miss Lin frowned on seeing him approach the stage. But he didn't even glance at her. His eyes were focused on the archmage, Solvyn.

“Sir, you promised to handover my father's assets when I turn eighteen. Today is my eighteenth birthday, when are you returning the dragon god's armory, heaven’s path library, the treasury, and my father's sword?”

The smile on Solvyn’s face froze, turning ugly despite his efforts to maintain appearances.

Miss Lin glanced furtively at the archmage, her heart skipping multiple beats. She winked at Theon. “What nonsense are you talking about? Go back to the queue. Immediately.”

Murmurs rose from the court. A student scoffed. “Seeking death.”

“He wants Lord Ren's treasures, is he worthy to keep something belonging to a true god realm master? He's truly overreaching.”

“Such a disgrace. His father Ren Dravorn singlehandedly destroyed the demon alliance, sealed the bleeding portals, and protected the realm. A holy martyr. Yet he gave birth to such a disgraceful, rapacious brat.”

Blood roared in Theon's ear, eyes burning. His lips trembled slightly. He straightened his back, barely managing to control the tremors shooting through his spine.

“He has disgraced the Dravorn name. Dravorn is a clan synonymous with absolute power. How could a true god sire a cripple? If his mom wasn't the Holy Saintess of Heaven’s Peak, I would have wondered if he's truly Lord Ren's spawn.”

The corner of Solvyn's lips curled slightly. ‘Little cutie, you want to blackmail me in public, huh? New born calves truly do not fear tigers.’

He saw no need to respond—his loyal hounds were already frothing. Against vermin like this, wasting energy was beneath him. A single breath could scatter their bones, and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger.

Solvyn smiled, the very picture of indulgence, love, and benevolence.

“Theon dear, you're currently too weak to handle any of that. You will only be painting a target on your back. Your uncle is holding onto them for your own good.”

Theon’s teeth clamped down on his tongue. His father had been the most influential being at his peak. Yet, now, he couldn't afford basic resources for cultivation being spurned by everyone. How could such oppression be for his own good?

“He's not just weak, he's also delusional. He should be sent to the Healing Hall to check his head.”

“He wants the academy to hand over Lord Ren’s assets, is he worthy?”

“He would just be handing it out to enemies. Taking something under his custody is easier than stealing candy from a baby.”

‘Do you hear that?’ Solvyn's voice transmission went straight to Theon's head, with it a sharp stab which went straight to his brain.

Theon stifled a groan, and his eyes burned with resentment, looking up at the one still smiling on stage.

The so-called venerable was resorting to a sneak attack…using mental assaults against him, a mere half-mortal in the Spirit Gathering phase. How utterly underhanded and vicious.

Even if he exposed him, he would only be arrested for slandering constituted authorities. Why would an archmage use such despicable attacks on a useless boy without an ounce of cultivation?

“I admit I'm weak and fall short of my late father's expectations.” Theon's voice was just loud and steady enough to not give himself away. Deep inside, he couldn't stop trembling. “Even if you don't want to give me the treasures, at least return the heaven's path library. I need to know what's wrong with me and the reason I can't advance no matter how hard I try.”

Solvyn's eyes darkened, his face taking on a slightly sad expression. As if Theon spat on his face. He sent another wave of mental attacks, this time Theon staggered back.

“Theon, I've treated you like my own son, called renowned healers for you. Venerable Seth already said it, you were born with a cursed physique, cultivation is useless. I've done my best to protect you and keep you in the academy irrespective of the pressure. No one wants to see you rise more than I do. How could you…”

His words trailed off, like he couldn't bring himself to say the rest. The students began to boil, shouts of fury permeating the ascension pavilion.

“Ungrateful wolf, get out of our academy.”

“Useless spawn, we don't need you.”

“Get out and leave our academy.”

Theon looked up at Solvyn. There was a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, visible despite his careful efforts to look the part of the heartbroken guardian.

Someone shoved Theon from behind, and he lost his balance, tumbling down. He gripped a fistful of white sand, his heart heavy. He finally understood.

From beginning to the end, Solvyn never intended to help him or return his father's enormous fortune and martial legacy. Keeping him in the academy wasn't out of kindness, it was just another way to control and exploit him.

A low whisper drifted into his ears, audible to him alone. ‘Power isn’t inherited, Theon… it’s proven. And you? You've proven nothing.’

His nails dug into his palm, knuckles turning white till he drew blood. Hatred and resentment filled his belly, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But there was nothing he could do. No method to change his fate.

No matter how he looked at it, he was weak. Pitifully weak. Way too weak to do anything. Even saving himself.

His fingers tightened in the sand.

Deep inside, something inside him shifted.

The humiliation, the hatred, the helplessness…it didn’t disappear. It condensed. Morphing into something darker, deeply twisted.

Slowly, Theon lifted his head.

‘Power…’ His lips parted slightly, eyes clouding with a manic intensity. ‘I will obtain it. No matter the cost.’