Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

———

**Vanguard Skill Tree**

1. **Basic Shielding (Bronze):** Create a temporary shield that absorbs a small amount of damage. The shield lasts for a few seconds or until it absorbs a set amount of damage.

2. **Forceful Strike (Bronze):** A powerful melee attack that deals extra damage and has a chance to knock the opponent back.

3. **Adrenaline Rush (Silver):** Temporarily boosts strength and speed in combat, enhancing physical abilities and reducing the effect of minor injuries.

4. **Combat Reflexes (Silver):** Improved reflexes in combat situations, allowing for quicker reactions to enemy attacks and a higher chance of dodging or countering.

5. **Defensive Stance (Silver):** Reduces incoming damage by adopting a defensive stance, improving durability against attacks for a short duration.

**Tactician Skill Tree**

1. **Strategic Maneuver (Bronze):** Allows the user to quickly analyze the battlefield and find advantageous positions or weak points in enemy defenses.

2. **Feint Attack (Bronze):** A deceptive move that throws the enemy off balance, opening them up for a critical strike or combo.

3. **Battlefield Awareness (Silver):** Enhanced awareness of surroundings in combat, reducing the chance of surprise attacks and improving reaction to hidden threats.

4. **Calculated Assault (Silver):** Increases damage output when targeting specific weak points of an enemy, especially effective against tougher opponents.

5. **Coordinated Strike (Silver):** When fighting alongside allies or minions, increases the effectiveness of combined attacks, making them more powerful and difficult for enemies to defend against.

———

Don blinked, quickly taking mental note of all the details he was seeing. He didn't have the luxury to wonder why the skill trees had unlocked now, or if he'd somehow triggered an achievement.

There was no time to question it as Andrew Barclay was already closing the distance with a smug grin plastered on his face.

Andrew mocked, "Did you really think you stood a chance? *Hah!*"

In the observation deck, Mr. Barclay laughed as well, leaning his head back and crossing his arms triumphantly. "Looks like my son Andrew has already won. This kid won't last another thirty seconds."

Redstar, however, remained focused on the fight, her expression unreadable. She noticed something in Don's posture and smirked, catching the tension in his muscles as he rose to his feet. "I wouldn't be so sure," she remarked coolly.

Miss Claire, standing beside Redstar, raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think so?"

Redstar didn't look away from the arena as she replied, "Just watch."

Miss Claire turned her gaze back to Don and Andrew, just as Andrew was reaching Don, who was slowly rising to his feet. The pain in Don's body was intense, but his resolve was stronger. As Andrew approached, he warned Don, "stay down if he don't want more of the same beating."

Don lifted his head, locking eyes with Andrew. There was no fear, no hesitation—only determination.

He spat a mouthful of blood to the side and wiped his mouth, then gestured for Andrew to come at him. "You're welcome to try, daddy's boy."

Andrew's face twisted in anger at the taunt. "You'll regret that."

What Andrew didn't know was that Don had already begun to assess the fight using his new **Strategic Maneuver (Bronze)** skill. He noticed several openings in Andrew's stance, flaws in his approach that he could exploit.

Andrew attacked, first launching a flurry of punches and kicks, trying to overwhelm Don like he had earlier. But this time, Don was different. Using **Combat Reflexes (Silver),** he dodged and parried the attacks with ease, his movements matching Andrew's.

Andrew's fists swung through the air, missing Don by inches as he weaved and ducked, his footwork impeccable. **Thud. Thud.** Andrew's punches hit nothing but empty air, and his frustration grew.

He soon tried to back Don into a corner, aiming to trap him with a series of aggressive strikes. But Don's agility was unmatched—he rolled, jumped, and sidestepped with almost supernatural grace, leaving Andrew swinging wildly.

In the observation deck, Mr. Barclay frowned at this. "All he knows how to do is run?"

Miss Claire glanced at him, her tone as cold as ice. "Patience is a virtue, Mr. Barclay. Rash actions lead only to defeat."

Mr. Barclay scoffed but didn't respond, his attention snapping back to the fight. And in the next instant, his eyes widened in shock.

With Andrew's attacks becoming increasingly erratic and uncoordinated, Don saw his opportunity. He used **Feint Attack (Bronze)** to fake a strike toward Andrew's face, causing the young Barclay to instinctively raise his guard. But Don's real target wasn't his face.

Activating **Adrenaline Rush (Silver),** Don felt a surge of power course through his muscles, his speed and strength momentarily boosted. He combined **Forceful Strike (Bronze)** with **Calculated Assault (Silver)** as he drove a powerful punch into Andrew's liver, aiming precisely for the weak point he'd identified.

**Wham.** The impact was brutal, the force of the blow driving deep into Andrew's side. The young Barclay's eyes bulged in pain, his body freezing as the agony coursed through him. He dropped to his knees, clutching his side and gasping for breath.

Don didn't press the attack; instead, he stepped back, smirking as he looked down at Andrew. He could see the disbelief and pain etched on the young man's face. "What's wrong? Did I hit you a little too hard?" Don taunted, his voice carrying a mocking tone.

Andrew's face twisted in fury, but he couldn't respond. He was too busy trying to breathe through the searing pain in his side.

The observation deck fell silent, Mr. Barclay's smug expression replaced with one of shock and disbelief. Redstar's smile widened slightly as she observed the outcome of that exchange, and Miss Claire's cool gaze remained fixed on Don, her thoughts unknown.

Andrew Barclay remained crouched, one hand clutching his side where Don's punch had landed with brutal force. His breathing had now become ragged as he glanced up toward the observation deck, seeking some form of reassurance or perhaps guidance from his father, but all he saw was Mr. Barclay's face contorted with rage and frustration.

In the observation room, Redstar chuckled softly, her arms crossed as she leaned back against the glass and faced Andrew's father. "You know, Mr. Barclay," she said with a tone that was more mocking than conversational, "no amount of private training can make up for the lack of mental toughness. Deep down, you know your son wouldn't even be in this program if it weren't for your position.

And now, he's about to learn the lesson you've been shielding him from all these years… defeat."

Mr. Barclay's face turned a shade darker. "Watch your tone," he warned.

Redstar's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. "Or what?" she shot back. "Think carefully about who your superiors value more—someone like you, who can be replaced, or someone like me?" Her voice was cold and unwavering, and Mr. Barclay's response was a clenched jaw and silence.

He could only shift his eyes back to the arena, muttering under his breath, "It's not over. He was just caught off guard. Watch how he destroys his opponent."

Miss Claire couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the comment. "I may not be an expert in combat, but I'd wager your son won't be winning this fight," she said, her tone one of light amusement.

Back in the arena, Andrew's eyes blazed with anger. "You'll pay for that!" he shouted, pushing through the pain as he charged at Don again, hoping to catch him off guard with his speed.

But Don's **Battlefield Awareness (Silver)** was fully active. Every movement in the room was heightened in his perception, every shift in weight, every breath.

Andrew swung a punch, aiming for Don's head, expecting the same evasive maneuvers from earlier. But Don had anticipated this.

He didn't dodge this time. Instead, he used **Combat Reflexes (Silver)** to parry the punch, his arm moving like a snake striking, redirecting Andrew's fist away from his body. Simultaneously, he drove his own fist forward, his knuckles landing squarely on the exact spot on Andrew's liver that he'd targeted before.

**Thud!**

The sound of the impact echoed through the arena, and Andrew's body convulsed in pain, his knees buckling beneath him as he crumpled to the floor. The agony was visible on his face, his mouth opening in a silent scream. But Don wasn't about to let up. This wasn't just a fight; it was a message.

Without hesitation, Don stepped forward and swung his leg, launching a powerful kick aimed directly at Andrew's head, using **Forceful Strike (Bronze)** to amplify the force.

Andrew, his instincts kicking in, raised his arm to block the incoming blow. The impact was tremendous, and Andrew's arm went numb, the force enough to send him sprawling sideways onto the ground.

The second Andrew hit the floor, Don was on him again, his movements quick and relentless. He rushed forward, feigning another kick. Andrew, still dazed and disoriented, panicked and threw his hands up to block the expected attack.

But Don had other plans. Utilizing **Feint Attack (Bronze),** he shifted his weight and instead drove a vicious punch toward Andrew's face.

**Crack!**

The sound of knuckles meeting bone reverberated through the arena as Don's fist connected with Andrew's jaw, sending his head snapping back.

Blood sprayed from Andrew's nose, and he stumbled backward, desperately trying to regain his footing. His eyes were wide with shock, and for the first time, fear was evident in his expression.

Don pressed his advantage with a cold focus in his eyes. Each move he made was calculated, every strike a lesson for Andrew. His fists, now bloodied from the onslaught, pummeled Andrew's body with relentless attack after attack.

He targeted the ribs, the abdomen, places where he knew the pain would linger, places where the damage would be felt the most. Andrew was forced to dodge and to retreat.

In the observation room, Mr. Barclay's face was a mixture of anger and disbelief. His eyes were wide, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

Redstar looked on, clearly entertained by all this, while Miss Claire maintained her calm demeanor with a small smile.

"This is getting hard to watch," Miss Claire remarked, her voice full of mock sympathy. "I can't imagine what it must feel like to watch one's child get beaten so one-sidedly. Mr. Barclay, could you perhaps enlighten me on how that feels?"

Mr. Barclay's jaw clenched tighter, but he said nothing, his pride and anger preventing any retort.

Back in the arena, Don stood tall, looking down at his opponent with cold and unyielding eyes. "Why are you running?" he taunted, his voice calm, almost conversational.

Andrew's eyes flickered with anger and humiliation. His breaths were shallow, each one more labored than the last. Don had broken more than just Andrew's body—he had broken his spirit.

In the observation room, Redstar's smile widened, while Miss Claire gave a small nod, as if satisfied with the outcome. Mr. Barclay, on the other hand, looked as though he were ready to explode, his face a shade of red that matched his son's bloodied form below.

"Looks like the lesson's over," Redstar said, her tone amused. "Now, maybe he'll learn not to underestimate his opponents."