The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character Chapter 196 196: Zhao Yuren [3]

I continued to test the tal rod—

[Soul Bound Staff].

When I said, "Beco light," it responded.

Not instantly, but with this strange, almost delayed breath—like it had to think about obeying .

At first, it was just a fraction of weight gone. Then more.

The pressure in my arms eased, until I could swing it with both hands—awkwardly, sure, but swing it nonetheless.

"…Interesting," I muttered, tightening my grip.

"Beco lighter," I tried again, voice firr.

The staff shimred slightly, like heat rising off a forge, and it responded—this ti faster, smoother. My arms no longer trembled trying to hold it upright. It was adapting to . Or maybe... I was adapting to it.

Then I whispered the opposite.

"Beco heavy."

CLUNK.

My feet imdiately sank a few inches into the soil.

My shoulders buckled, and I nearly collapsed.

"Sh—shit…!"

I forced it down, planting the tip into the earth just to stay upright.

That wasn't just weight. That was punishnt. Like carrying a mountain made of mory.

"Alright… that works too," I grunted, regaining my footing.

I exhaled and leaned on the staff, heart pounding.

It was responding to commands, yes—but not like a machine. More like… an animal. Sothing proud, that didn't take orders unless it respected you.

And when I thought back to Zhao Yuren…

That made sense.

This wasn't just a tool. This was a will forged into tal.

His will.

Which ant if I ever used it in battle, I couldn't just swing it like any ordinary weapon.

I had to talk to it.

Negotiate. Command with purpose. With clarity.

I looked down at the smooth, dark shaft of the staff.

"…Can you change your size too?" I asked, mostly out of curiosity.

There was a long pause. Then—

With a flicker of resistance—

The staff extended, nearly two ters long, until the tip humd above my head like a spear.

"…You can."

I grinned.

Now we were getting sowhere.

This wasn't just a weapon. This was a partner.

I spun the staff experintally. Still heavy enough to hit like a warhamr, but balanced now. Responsive.

After that, I tested the Soul Bound Staff a few more tis and discovered more of its strange abilities.

[Size Manipulation]

It could shrink small enough to tuck behind my ear or stretch long enough to split a tree down the middle.

With just a thought, I could wield a spear, a club, or a needle.

[Weight of Will]

To , it was manageable. Even comforting.

To anyone else who touched it… it beca an anchor. Unmovable.

I watched a beetle try crawling across it—

It cracked under the pressure.

[Soul Pulse]

That one was harder to notice.

But in monts where I hesitated—

When I faltered, even slightly—

It moved.

Blocked a branch from hitting my face.

Redirected my swing before it could break my wrist.

Like it had eyes. Like it knew what I wanted—sotis better than I did.

It was… eerie.

But also kind of reassuring.

The wind rustled the leaves above. The staff humd faintly in reply.

I let my thoughts drift.

A na. It needed a na.

Sothing simple. Nothing too flashy. Just… sothing that made sense.

"…How about Lan?"

I said it aloud.

"Lan."

Short. Steady. Quiet, but strong.

The mont the word left my lips, I felt a soft pulse run through the tal. Like warmth. Like approval.

Yeah.

That was it.

"From now on, you're Lan," I said again, more certain this ti.

The staff didn't speak. But I felt it—

the connection deepen.

This was no longer Zhao Yuren's weapon.

It was mine.

And its na… was Lan.

Of course! Here's a more natural and human-like version of the scene, with smoother dialogue flow, refined phrasing, and a tone that balances mystery, humor, and a bit of awe:

This was no longer Zhao Yuren's weapon.

It was mine.

And its na… was Lan.

I let the na settle on my tongue, feeling the bond between us solidify. The mont was quiet, peaceful, but sothing tugged at the edge of my thoughts.

Right—there was sothing else I had to try.

Carrying it as a staff was fine. But swordsmanship… that was my specialty. If this weapon was truly bound to , shouldn't it match my style?

I closed my eyes and focused.

Blade. Sothing small. Quick. Familiar.

As if reading my mind, Lan began to shift.

The long staff compressed, folding in on itself with a quiet, tallic sigh until it beca a short, obsidian knife. Sleek, compact—perfectly balanced for my grip. It even felt lighter now, as if it understood my needs and adjusted before I could ask.

I turned the blade in my hand, letting the weight settle.

"…Perfect."

It glead faintly in the light, like it knew it had done a good job.

My lips curled into a grin.

"I look forward to working with you, Lan."

—Indeed. I look forward to it as well.

"…"

I blinked.

"Wait… what?"

—You seem unwell. Perhaps a al would help? Roc eggs are good for stamina. I could guide you to a nest.

"…Huh??"

—You've just overco a trial, yet you already look half-dead. Still, you did manage to pass, so… I suppose I can't expect too much from you right away.

I stared at the knife in my hand like it had just grown a face.

"No, no, no—hold on. Are you… talking?"

Silence followed. But the blade pulsed gently in my hand. Not threatening—just amused. Like it was watching flail.

—I am what remains of Zhao Yuren's conscience. Or perhaps… what he left behind.

—In truth, you shouldn't be able to speak with . But because you nad the staff and ford a bond… well, communication beca possible.

—Surely, you knew that much?

I felt my jaw tighten.

"You're telling … you're really Zhao Yuren?"

—How rude. You don't believe ?

"No, I an… it's not that. I just thought—after passing the trial, the weapon's original consciousness was supposed to disappear."

—That's a common misunderstanding.

—The consciousness doesn't vanish—it lingers, buried deep within the relic.

—But to speak with it, two conditions must be t. First, the weapon must be nad by its new wielder. Second…

—It's up to the previous owner——to decide whether or not to respond.

"…This is insane," I muttered.

In the novel, the villain who took this staff never nad it. Never heard a voice. To him, it was just a powerful weapon—a tool, nothing more.

But here I was.

And this relic… was talking back.

—That's because I like you, kid, Zhao said, and I swore I could hear the smirk behind his voice.

—You've got spirit. A bit reckless, but not bad. So I thought, why not? I'll stick around. Chat with you. See what you make of this power.

—It'll be entertaining, if nothing else.

I rubbed my temples, exhaling slowly.

—"A legendary warrior's ghost is living in my short sword… and he's staying for the entertainnt."

—Precisely.

"…What the hell is my life."

And with that I got an unexpected partner.

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Author Note.

Thank you for reading the chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future. Bye