Building a Terrorist Group in the Academy Novel

A luxurious red carriage moved through the freezing northern forests of the Emiel Empire. Inside, a black-haired figure sat with his arms and legs crossed.

He was a delicate-looking man, eyes closed in deep thought. His sharp, strong jaw gave his face a sculpted look. His posture remained stiff, as though the cold had frozen him in place.

Though he didn't appear older than 17, a deep frown marked his face, clearly in a bad mood. The only sound inside the carriage was the continuous rhythm of the horses' hooves.

After five minutes of stillness, he finally opened his eyes.

His appearance was striking—two scarlet irises burned with intensity, rich and vibrant, like embers glowing in the dark. His gaze radiated power and arrogance, a deep-seated trait that seemed to be part of his very soul.

Pulling aside the soft curtains of the narrow window, he was greeted by a dull, white world. Black clouds hung oppressively in the sky, casting shadows over the snow-covered land—just like the shadows that loomed over his future.

A cheap perfume filled the carriage, making the air nauseatingly stale and hard to breathe.

He was a transmigrated soul from Earth, now inhabiting a body in a world he knew all too well. In his memories, he found himself in a crappy novel, occupying the skin of a useless second-generation noble.

Aiden Hoyle—that was his new name. The original Aiden was a drunkard who spent his days chasing after prostitutes in the capital.

But his father, a marquis, had been executed for corruption just a week ago. So, the former Aiden had hurried back to his fiefdom, hoping to restore order.

"Like father, like son," Aiden thought, his gaze following the slow-moving trees outside. He wasn't a villain, just a man who had been dealt a bad ending.

Suddenly, the carriage hit several bumps in the road, turning the already uncomfortable ride into a near torture. Once the shaking subsided, Aiden continued his thoughts. "But that's not the problem... the problem is this novel is terrible."

Calling it bad felt like an insult to the word "bad."

"I remember hating it more than anything else," Aiden muttered with furrowed brows. "Hating" didn't even cover it—he abhorred such lousy novels. It was an overused plot, flooding the market.

He recalled throwing the book across the room when he finished reading it. The writing and pacing were fine, but the main story was the issue.

"The overused hero defeats evil with the power of love," Aiden scoffed.

His gaze drifted toward the entrance of a dilapidated village outside the window. People in ragged clothes stood near the village gate, chopping wood.

"Maybe I can make something out of this situation," Aiden said. "If I'm stuck in this world against my will, then don't expect me to be polite."

What Aiden despised most about the novel was how easy everything came to the characters. The hero had the goddess's blessing and grew stronger as the plot advanced, regardless of whether others trained their entire lives. It didn't matter—his title alone made him unbeatable. The same went for the Demon Lord, the strongest demon simply because of his name. Naturally, only the hero could defeat him.

As the whole world united against the Demon Lord, Aiden opened the curtainless window, letting fresh air sweep away the horrid stench inside. He wondered why he hadn't done it earlier.

"Humans are naturally good, but it is civilization that corrupts them," Aiden mused. But he believed the opposite: humans were inherently selfish.

He wanted to prove them wrong. The real threat to humanity wasn't the demons. The real danger was humanity itself. The demons people feared were mere puppies compared to the evil lurking within humans.

"Not everyone deserves a happy ending," Aiden muttered, his eyes burning a deep crimson. "They will learn to fight for their happiness—not some imposed fate that decides who gets a happy ending and who doesn't." His cold smile lingered as he spoke.

Leaning back, Aiden closed his eyes. A wish, long buried in the deepest corners of his mind, began to resurface like a rose blooming in spring.

"I've decided. I'll form a terrorist group."

He had always liked the idea of terrorist groups in novels, but they always ended up serving the protagonist in some way. He could recall many of them—dark, mysterious figures in cloaks who appeared just to serve as temporary threats before being wiped out. Whether they tried to resurrect an ancient god or revive a fallen empire, they always failed.

"In my old world, if you had terrorist thoughts, a hundred tons of freedom would rain down on your country," Aiden recalled, thinking of a particular bearded figure who met such a fate. But now things were different. These were dark times.

When would he have a better opportunity?

Everyone's focus was on the Demon Lord, making it the perfect moment to build something in the shadows. Communication was limited, and ignorance was at its peak.

Straightening his back, Aiden looked out the window again. Here and there, weathered cobblestones peeked through the snow, with the occasional sprig of green struggling to emerge.

Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, the weather no longer seemed so gloomy. There were always people discontent with the status quo—people filled with anger, waiting for someone to give them a hand, to help them take the first step.

Aiden didn't take pleasure in others' suffering, but he did enjoy showing them he was right. He was always right. He had always had his experience to back him up, and this time would be no different.

He knew he was choosing a difficult path, and he couldn't do it all alone, especially not with his current body. He didn't know if he would live long enough to see his plan through, but he would give it everything he had.

The confusion in his gaze was gone, replaced with conviction.

As the cold wind swept through the open window, Aiden reflected on the world's timeline.

"The academy starts in three months," Aiden said, crossing his legs. "I have to form my group before I return to the capital."

Letting out a sigh, he watched the snow falling on the road, the low temperatures seeping further into his already frozen heart.

"I have many problems to resolve before I can start building my group," Aiden said.

The first step was dealing with the mess his predecessor had left behind. He had vague memories of the former Aiden, but it would have been better if that fool had taken things seriously. Still, there was no point in crying over spilled milk.

Many problems awaited him at home, and he hadn't even arrived yet. His headache was already growing.

He stared into the distance, his thoughts unknown.

The path ahead was going to be anything but easy, and Aiden knew it.