I'm a Villain, So I'll Take Over The World!

With the dawn of the next day, he woke up, wondering for a moment if everything that transpired last night was nothing but a far-off dream.

Though as he rubbed his eye and yawned, he found the black-cased grimoire manifesting in front of him as if proving its own existence.

"Good," he smiled, "We've got a lot to do today."

As he went into the bathroom to get ready for school, he threw on his uniform, only to find it didn't fit anymore.

"Huh? That's weird," he muttered.

Though when looking into the mirror, he figured out why.

The activation of the Creator's Grimoire altered him on a fundamental level; he had grown a few inches in height; his average, bland looks had sharpened, and the need for glasses was obsolete as he discarded them, now wielding eyes that could see better than any others.

"Do I have any spells that can adjust the size of my clothes? I doubt it," he mumbled.

To his surprise, the grimoire fluttered to a page, bringing the spell "Disembodied Tailor", allowing him to manifest said spell with a snap of his fingers.

The clothes he struggled to fit onto his filled-out, taller physique that was no longer skin and bones but also packed a respectable layer of muscle, adjusted to his new build.

He wore a plain, black t-shirt and matching pants, pairing with gray sneakers as he looked in the mirror with his eyes that matched the gray shade of his shoes.

"I can get used to this kind of power," he smiled.

As he got ready to leave for school, he left the front door while adjusting the collar of his shirt, making sure it fit well enough.

'It'd be easy to get to school within seconds, I imagine, but for now, I want to keep things at least a bit on the 'low'--I'll keep the chaos to a crescendo,' he decided.

There was a newly-gained confidence in how he held himself now, walking his usual route with his head held high and a smile on his face. A lot of looks came his way from recognizable faces, though they hardly seemed to recognize him as 'Noah.'

A block away from the campus, the pathway just before the school gates was blocked by a sight all too familiar to his eyes.

"I told you to have my money by today, or you'd be dead meat, lard."

Issuing the threat, a delinquent held a much shorter, rounder sophomore by the collar of his umber jacket, who was shaking like a frightening puppy.

"I-I-I don't h-have it…I t-told you I needed an-another few days, Lars…" The chubby sophomore gulped.

"'I-I-I'--quite stuttering and spit it out!" Lars barked, giving him a belittling slap on the cheel.

'Timothy.'

It was somebody Noah knew; one of his few friends. Though they weren't particularly close, and more so allies in being outcasts, Noah still opted to intervene, though it was hardly with good intentions as a smile came across his lips.

'It's always the same; the weak are trampled by the strong,' he thought.

Lars cracked his knuckles before forming a fist, rearing it back with a vicious look on his pierced face, "I'm going to knock out a tooth for each day you've been late, then. I believe this makes five, so–!"

"Eep…!" Timothy flinched, closing his eyes.

Before the knuckles of the tall, sour-faced delinquent could slam against the chubby sophomore's cheek, it was stopped dead in its tracks as a hand gripped Lars' wrist.

"Huh? What the fuck?" Lars muttered, looking to the side.

It took a moment of dumbfounded squinting for the pierced-lipped bully to realize the one holding his arm was Noah.

"Ain't you the guy that got his shit kicked in by Jacob and his crew yesterday? The fuck you think you're doing botherin' me for?" Lars said, trying to pull his wrist away though it didn't budge.

The look of surprise on Lars' face, who always relied on his bigger size to overpower smaller prey, was priceless to see as he kept trying to pull his arm free to no avail.

"The fuck…?" Lars said.

Timothy finally opened his eyes, looking up to see Noah, "...Noah? Wh-what're you doing? D-don't worry about me–Lars will get you!"

Still, there was a look of silent confidence on Noah's face as he stood there with a smile, simply holding onto Lars' wrist without letting go.

"You should really just get a job instead of relying on easy change like this," Noan warned the delinquent, lightly squeezing his wrist, "One day, you might run into somebody who doesn't shy away from a fight."

Lars winced as he felt his bone being squeezed by an inexplicable pressure, beginning to sweat, "H-hey! Let go! Fuck…!"

There was nothing in Noah's eyes that looked as if he was ready to show any mercy as he simply watched Lars wince in pain, continuing to slowly squeeze.

"Noah…? I-I think that's enough–! Noah!" Timothy called out.

It was only the soft nature of the short-of-stature sophomore that made Noah finally let go, causing the spiky-haired delinquent to stumble back before caressing his reddened wrist.

"Ghh…What the hell is your problem, man?" Lars asked.

As Lars quickly looked around, there were hardly any students passing by on their way to school, and those that were knew what that look from the delinquent meant–to 'mind their business.'

'He's about to do something pretty stupid,' Noah deduced.

And that was proven correct as Lars reached into his baggy pants, retrieving a red pocket knife that flicked open, causing Timothy to gasp and stumble back, hiding behind Noah.

"I-I'll have your money tomorrow! I-I promise, so don't–!" Timothy stammered.

Lars interrupted him, honing his bloodlusted, hazel gaze on Noah, who had yet to move a single step, "Shut your fucking mouth. This ain't about money anymore. This little bottom-feeder disrespected me–I'm going to teach him his place."

"Oh?" Noah smiled.

The small provocation made Timothy breath heavily as he tugged on Noah's sleeve, trying to get him to follow him, "L-lets run! Maybe we can find a cop o-or something!"

Despite the bleak situation, Noah was still standing there, wearing his same smile much to the dismay of Timothy, who began to realize there was something fundamentally different about his friend.

"Just stand back and watch," Noah calmly said.

Those words stuck out both to Timothy and the attacker, which prompted the short, pudgy-cheeked boy to gulp and stand back.

Noah whispered to himself while watching Lars, "Grimoire, can you check his 'stats'? If he has anything like that."

To his surprise, the grimoire manifested itself, beginning to flip to a page as if locating a spell for exactly that. Though he was caught off-guard by this as he didn't plan to reveal his newfound power just yet, but to his surprise, there was no reaction.

Lars was still wielding his pocket knife, readying himself with a sour expression without batting an eye at the crimson-and-black grimoire.

'Ah, so it can't be seen by normal people, then? That's convenient,' Noah thought.

The spell the grimoire located for him was 'Assess', which activated with a brief shine of a crimson glow to his left eye, bringing the stats of the senior-year delinquent to his view.

[Lars Baker]

[Level: N/A]

[Strength: 15]

[Constitution: 10]

[Mana: 0]

It was eye-opening to see the disparity in stats between himself and the delinquent that just a day earlier would've made short work of him, but it wasn't all too surprising considering the brief testing he'd done.

Just as he obtained this information, the delinquent suddenly rushed him, sweating bullets as he lunged forward.

With the meager stats possessed by his upperclassman, it would be no different than handling an infant, or perhaps even less than that; this was simply the vast difference in their capabilities.