The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character Chapter 7 7: Two Protagonist's [1]

Wait.

More Trolls?

My legs buckled, and I had to lean on the guard to keep from collapsing.

"This is bad," I whispered.

No—this was worse than bad.

One Enhanced Troll was already a death sentence for most of the students here. But more? Reinforcents?

The Owner wasn't just correcting the story. He was punishing . Because I lived.

Because I survived.

Because Rin Evans wasn't supposed to survive this part.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I muttered again, more to myself than anyone else.

The ground trembled once more.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each step made the earth quake, like drums of war announcing the end of an era.

From the ruined entrance of the arena, two more figures erged—twice the size of the first troll, covered in bone-like armor and carrying makeshift weapons that looked like tree trunks carved into clubs. Their mouths frothed, snarling like rabid beasts. And behind them… smaller figures. Goblins. No—not just goblins. Darkspawn. Creatures tainted by corrupted mana.

"This is a dungeon raid," the guard said slowly, voice hoarse with disbelief. "No—this is a warzone."

My mind raced.

In the story, there was a troll. But only one. It was enough to push Ryen to the brink. Enough to awaken sothing inside him. A mont of transformation.

But now?

This would kill him.

Unless…

Unless I helped.

"I need to get to him," I said, taking a shaky step forward.

"You're insane," the guard hissed. "We need to regroup! You're injured. You can't even—"

"I don't care!" I snapped. "If Ryen dies, we all die! This story's not going to wait for your tactical retreat!"

Another blast rang out. One of the smaller buildings on campus exploded in a wave of purple fla. A wave of panic swept through the students still scrambling to escape.

"I know how this story goes," I said, panting. "And right now… we're off-script."

The guard hesitated. Then cursed under his breath.

"Look, I think you are being very panroied. You said that I have to save you and I did, didn't I? You are alive that's what matters most."

There was truth in gaurd, I survived but what's the point?

The entrance of the exit has been shut off, elite professor and rest gaurds are locked into barrier.

The students were getting killed and so brave one trying to fight so troll with group.

As for ? My only weapon was destroyed in that explosion earlier.

My gun with rest of bullets were gone.

So.

What did I have?

No weapon. No plan. No backup. Just a fractured rib, a bruised ego, and a terrifying awareness that I wasn't the main character anymore.

But I did have sothing else. Knowledge.

This wasn't just a deviation. This was a full-blown divergence from the script.

"Just stay here. I'll handle them.

He drew his weapon—a broadsword etched with runes—and stepped in front of . His stance was shaky, but determined.

The guard stepped forward, sword raised.

I watched him, teeth clenched, a bitter taste rising in my throat.

He was going to die.

The way his hands trembled, the way his eyes kept darting toward the approaching trolls—it was all wrong. This wasn't so hardened warrior from the novels. He was scared. Human. Just like .

And humans didn't win against monsters like these.

Even so, he charged towards them.

At the sa ti I couldn't help but thought about Ryen, the protagonist of this novel.

Ryen was an overpowered protagonist—there was no doubt about that.

But he was not invincible-type protagonist.

That ant, at the start of the story, he was strong—but not invincible.

If this …was truly the beginning of his arc—if this was supposed to be the mont that cracked him open and awakened whatever slumbering power hid beneath his skin—then things were spiraling far beyond what the story ever intended.

This wasn't a character-breaking mont anymore.

It was a character-ending one.

Ryen couldn't awaken if he was dead.

And that was exactly where this was heading.

I watched the guard charge forward with every ounce of bravery he could muster, his rune-etched sword glowing faintly in the dim light. He let out a war cry—raw, desperate—and slamd into the nearest troll with all his might.

It barely flinched.

The creature swatted him aside like a ragdoll, and I heard bones crack. His body crumpled, tumbling across the stone floor like a tossed doll, landing in a heap near the wreckage of a shattered pillar.

But he didn't stop, he stood up and drink so kind of potion and charged towards Troll more aggressively then before.

I took a step back, heart pounding in my chest. My breath ca in short, sharp gasps. This wasn't just a bad ending.

It was all wrong.

And then, in the distance—I saw him.

Ryen.

He was bleeding.

It was uncertain.

Blood dripped steadily from Ryen's arm, staining the stone floor beneath him. His breathing was shallow but controlled, as if he were trying to pretend he wasn't in pain. The student he'd shielded—so first-year boy who'd frozen up—was now being pulled away by another cadet, eyes still wide with shock.

Ryen didn't move.

He couldn't. Not yet.

He needed at least a minute—just sixty seconds—to regulate his mana, to stabilize the flow that had burst when he took that hit.

But the troll wasn't going to wait.

The Enhanced Troll roared, its body radiating the unnatural pressure of an unstable enhancent spell. Cracks webbed across the stone beneath its feet as it lunged again—this ti, not at Ryen, but toward the guard.

guard t the charge with a sharp grunt, his sword slamming against the troll's club. Sparks flew. The ground shook. But it was clear now—the fight was wearing on him. His shoulder sagged with every block. His footwork, usually crisp and powerful, had started to slow.

He wasn't holding back. Not even a little.

The monster's just that strong.

At this mont of dispaire, there is only one who could stop the troll.

But will he?

He Is not type to help others, specially Ryen.

But then I heard familiar voice.

"I'll fucking kill you."

A calm, confident voice cut through the chaos.

Leo Taylor stepped forward, his grip tightening around the spear in his hands.

Without hesitation, he lunged, his weapon piercing through the air, aiming straight for the Troll.

The spear flew.

It sang through the air like a javelin hurled by a god, slicing the wind apart with ruthless precision. The Enhanced Troll turned too late—just enough for the weapon to pierce beneath its armpit, where the bone-armor was weakest. The impact was explosive. Mana surged along the spear's shaft, lighting up the troll's veins like a cursed tree struck by lightning.

The creature howled.

It staggered back, swiping wildly, its blood—black and boiling—splattering across the ground in thick gobs. The scent was acidic. Rotten.

Leo didn't pause to celebrate the hit.

He was already moving, dashing to the side, ripping the spear free and twirling it in a tight arc. His eyes didn't hold fear. They didn't even hold anger.

Only contempt.

"You monsters are getting real annoying," he said flatly.

The second Enhanced Troll roared and lunged forward, its club raised high.

Leo ducked, then spun, narrowly dodging the blow that cratered the earth where he stood a second ago. Dust shot up around them, but Leo didn't waver. He surged forward, using the montum of the dodge to jam the butt of his spear into the troll's knee.

Crack.

The leg bent unnaturally, the troll collapsing with a snarl of pain and fury. Leo raised the spear for a killing blow—when a blur shot out from the side.

A Darkspawn.

One of the smaller, goblin-like creatures—twisted by corrupted mana—rushed him with jagged blades in both hands.

Leo shifted his stance instinctively, the tip of his spear flashing outward.

But it wasn't fast enough.

The goblin's blade nicked his shoulder, tearing through the side of his uniform.

Blood sprayed.

Leo winced—but his retaliation was brutal.

He slamd the shaft of the spear into the creature's skull, crushing it into the dirt.

More were coming.

A dozen, maybe more. Swarming like insects. Crawling over the ruins. So clung to walls. Others leapt from debris.

This was no longer a duel.

It was an ambush.

And Leo knew it.

"Tch… didn't expect this many," he muttered, spinning his spear once more. Then he looked towards Ryen and shouted.

"Hey, you idiot! Is that the best you can do? I can't believe I lost to you."

Ryen in response just manage a weak smile and said, "Just give Minute or two."

"Tsk, How pathetic."

A monster of this caliber was sothing only professional hunters or seasoned adventurers could take down. For a cadet to defeat it so effortlessly was beyond comprehension.

But Leo wasn't just any cadet.

He was a Master, born with the talent of a Weapon Master—one of the two protagonists of this story.

And right now, he had just proven why.

Weapon Master.

An A-rank talent that granted its wielder proficiency in all forms of weaponry, allowing them to wield any blade, bow, or spear as if they had trained with it for years.

But that wasn't all.

The more they fought, the more enemies they faced, the stronger they beca.

On paper, it might not sound that impressive, but in a world where magic reigned supre, a perfected martial art was sothing far more dangerous than most people realized.

And the sa ti, I was very stunned.

Watching the scene unfold from a distance, I couldn't help but be stunned.

Why?

Because this wasn't like Leo Taylor at all.

In the novel [World's Greatest Hero], Leo was the second protagonist—a selfish, arrogant bastard who saw everyone as nothing more than stepping stones on his path to becoming the greatest hero.

Despite that, the readers never really disliked him. In fact, many of them even wished he were the main protagonist instead. With his strikingly handso appearance, prestigious family background, and that cold, unapproachable aura, he had everything that made a compelling lead.

In the original novel, because Leo lost entrance exam duel with Ryen he fight for the first place, he didn't bother to help him out when Villain attacks the Velcrest Academy.

In fact he even mocked him few tis after the incidents.

He should have been standing back and watching with folded arms and that ever-present smirk—the kind that said, "I told you so."

But here he was, standing over Ryen like a shield, spear braced and eyes narrowing as another wave of Darkspawn charged.

"Co on then," Leo muttered, rotating his spear behind his back. "Let's see what your corrupted god really gave you."

It didn't make sense.

This wasn't a subtle shift. This was a hard deviation. A major character divergence.

Leo Taylor… was helping.

And not because soone forced his hand. Not because he was cornered. But because—sowhere, deep inside—he chose to.

And if Leo Taylor was off-script… then how many others were?

I staggered forward, adrenaline drowning out the pain in my ribs. My body scread with every movent, but my mind was clear. Sharper than it had ever been.

Ryen was stabilizing his mana. Leo was buying ti. The guard—sohow still alive—was keeping the second troll occupied, his potion-fueled strength pushing him past what a normal man should be capable of.

But this wouldn't last.

The next wave would overwhelm them.

And ?

I needed to act.

Even without weapons.

Even without power.

Because I wasn't just a side character anymore.

I knew this world better than anyone.

I knew what ca next.

My eyes darted to the eastern wall of the arena—half-broken, charred, but still standing. Behind it, a mana-conducting tower. One of the old academy's defenses, decommissioned decades ago.

But not entirely dead.

In Chapter 16 of the novel, Ryen once hid behind it during a mock battle. It absorbed a wild mana burst ant to knock him out. The instructor said sothing back then—sothing I thought was just throwaway dialogue:

> "The tower still has fragnts of the old defense code etched in. Useless without a trigger, though."

My breath hitched.

A trigger.

I wasn't a mage. I wasn't even strong.

But I was a reader.

And if the tower still worked…

I ran.

Dodging broken beams, sidestepping the fallen stones. The clash of weapons and roars of monsters echoed behind , but I didn't look back.

I couldn't look back.

The wall lood ahead.

Crumbling.

Smoking.

But intact.

I slamd my palm against the base of the tower—rough, cold, dust-covered.

Nothing happened.

"Co on, co on…" I whispered, fingers trembling as they brushed over the stone. I rembered the code. Rembered every detail. The readers always joked about it, called it "foreshadowing with no payoff."

But maybe… it was waiting for soone like .

A piece of mana-sensitive paper hung limply behind a thin panel. Charred but visible.

I tore it free and bit down hard on my finger—drawing blood. I scrawled the only word I rembered from the footnote in the author's blog post:

"Caled"

My blood sared across the glyphs.

And the tower humd.

Faint. Weak.

But alive.

A glow—dull blue—began pulsing in the stone, growing brighter with each beat.

Then a voice. A synthetic one, old and barely functioning.

> "Legacy Defense Node… reinitializing."

A faint pulse surged outward from the tower, sweeping over the battlefield like a ripple in a pond.

Every Darkspawn froze, Every Troll froze, anything that resembles monster or inhuman froze.

Just for a mont.

But that was all Leo needed.

His spear danced, severing tendons and crushing skulls.

The guard let out a ragged cheer, his blade cutting deeper into the second troll's leg.

And Ryen—

His eyes snapped open.

The air around him cracked, tendrils of blue lightning arcing over his skin.

Mana pulsed.

Raw. Wild.

Unchained.

He rose—slowly, but deliberately—his presence thick enough to make the Enhanced Troll hesitate.

Ryen raised a hand.

A magic circle blood beneath his feet, then another above his head.

And he whispered, "Break."

The ground beneath the Enhanced Troll shattered, swallowing the creature in a storm of mana spikes.

It scread.

And the tide turned.

For the first ti, we were no longer surviving.

We were fighting back.

Crack—!

....And at the sa the walls on the tower was collapsing.

Shit!

I have to get out of here fast or else I'll —die here.

I turned on my heel, sprinting before the stones could bury . The tower groaned, ancient tal screeching as it twisted and gave way. Rubble rained down like hail, shards of mana-infused stone crackling around . One caught my shoulder—I stumbled—but didn't stop.

Can't stop.

The glow behind flared once more, then died with a final, hollow whump, like the last breath of sothing ancient. I dove past a crumbled support pillar just as the rest of the tower caved in, a tidal wave of stone and dust chasing my heels.

I hit the ground hard, coughing, blinking grit from my eyes.

Still alive.

Barely.

The battlefield had changed.

The monsters were reeling. The brief disruption had thrown them off rhythm. Leo and the guard were pressing the advantage, carving a path forward. Ryen floated slightly off the ground, his mana now a storm barely contained.

He was a force of nature.

And I… I was still just a guy with bleeding ribs and no magic.

But sothing had shifted.

Ryen's eyes locked onto mine across the chaos. Just for a second. And in them, I saw it.

Recognition.

Trust.

But why?

I couldn't help but asked that question to myself more then him.