The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Leo continued his advance, the [Drakevolt Spear] gripped tightly in his hand. Sparks rippled across its surface, the weapon humming like it was alive—like it wanted more.

He moved like a storm barely restrained, lightning bottled up in muscle and instinct. Calm on the outside. Coiled on the inside.

Leo was strong.

But so were the enemies.

I counted at least twenty of them still standing. Most weren't pushovers, either. Armed, coordinated, hungry for blood. If this were a fair fight, it'd be a massacre.

…For us.

With that spear in hand, Leo could probably take on seven—maybe even ten—by himself. And knowing his personality?

He would try to take all of them alone.

The only reason he hadn't yet was because of us.

Because Trent was out cold.

Because we—the rear—were vulnerable.

Leo glanced back just once. Briefly.

It wasn't hesitation.

It was calculation.

He was holding himself back—for now.

Then he moved.

THRUST—!

The [Drakevolt Spear] shot forward with a blur of motion and a crackle of energy. The nearest enemy tried to sidestep, eyes going wide—

Too late.

The spear's tip tore through the man's shoulder, bursting out the other side in a spray of crimson.

"Ahhh—!" the man screamed, stumbling backward, blood pouring down his side. He dropped to his knees, clutching at the wound, his weapon forgotten.

Leo didn't stop to watch him fall.

With a flick, he yanked the spear free and spun, already shifting his stance toward the next threat. The weapon sparked again, arcs of electricity jumping across the metal like it was getting excited.

At the same time, I began doing my part.

"What's the matter?" I called out to the remaining villains, spreading my arms wide with a grin. "You gonna come at me, or are you all planning to gang up on him?"

A few of them hesitated, their eyes flicking between me and Leo. Good. That was enough. I could've bluffed more—thrown in a few cocky lines—but with Trent unconscious, I had to hold back. One wrong move, and they'd come for the rear.

Leo glanced over his shoulder. His voice was calm but firm.

"Just stay back… for now. You're all my comrades. I won't let them touch a single one of you."

...That was—

Cool.

Really cool.

As expected from Leo Taylor.

After all, he wasn't just a character in this world. He was the protagonist.

If Ryen had been the idealist—the saint who tried to save everyone—then Leo was the realist, the egoist. He never chased unreachable ideals. He protected what he could, what was within his grasp.

Ryen had failed trying to save those he couldn't reach. Leo gave up on the impossible before it broke him—but still, he carried regret. Even when he lost something he could have saved, the weight of it stuck with him.

Some people mocked him for that. Compared him to Ryen, saying he lacked heart.

But others?

They respected it.

They cheered for him.

And me?

He was someone I could actually help.

The villains made their move, charging all at once—blades raised, spells forming, shouting battle cries to steel their nerves.

And suddenly… I realized there was a problem.

If this were a typical novel, I'd rush in right about now, slap Leo's back, and shout,

"[Enhancement]!"

But this wasn't that kind of story. Not this time.

Even in the original timeline, giving an enhancement buff to the [Weapon Master]—especially one like Leo—was dangerous.

Because once Leo entered [Berserk Mode], enhancements didn't just boost his power.

They accelerated his downfall.

Sure, with my enhancement magic, Leo would be stronger—maybe even unstoppable—but he'd also lose control faster. He'd lose himself. His judgment, his focus, everything. Just a rampaging weapon of war.

In simpler terms?

Leo and I aren't exactly compatible in combat.

A buff from me might give him the edge for a few seconds… but it'd come at a cost neither of us wanted to pay.

The moment slowed.

I stood there, hand half-raised, enhancement magic flickering on my fingertips—then let it fade. No. Not now. Not like this.

Leo didn't need more power.

He needed clarity.

The enemies surged forward, boots pounding against the earth, steel flashing in the air. Fire spells began to form in the backline—two mages, maybe three. Arrows notched. Blades drawn. Coordination.

They were serious now.

Leo stepped ahead to meet them, his body low, stance wide. His spear sparked again, a pulse of white-blue light throbbing across the shaft. The weapon sang—not literally, but close. I swear it gave off a kind of hum that made your bones vibrate if you stood too close.

Three came from the left.

Two more from the front.

Another tried to circle behind.

Leo didn't flinch.

With terrifying precision, he turned—

CLANG!

Blocked the first strike with the shaft, twisted—

CRACK!

Shattered another attacker's guard, the man crumpling from a clean hit to the ribs.

Someone tried to flank him—

Leo spun, the spear lashing out like a whip.

It didn't stab.

It whipped.

The electrified shaft slammed into the attacker's temple, sending him sprawling with a dull thud.

Three down.

Seventeen left.

Leo's movements weren't just fast—they were disciplined. Efficient. Nothing wasted. It was like watching a machine forged for battle—but one that still had a man inside.

He fought with control.

But I could tell—it was just barely.

The lightning was coiling tighter now,

bleeding past the spear and into his skin. His hair fluttered in the rising static. His eyes glowed faintly blue, too bright to be natural.

The [Berserk Mode] was close.

And if it triggered now—

In the middle of this fight, We'd be screwed.

I needed to do something. Not to boost Leo—but to support him without tipping him over the edge. A distraction. Anything.

At that moment, the Villain Leo couldn't hold back rushed past to him and come towards us.

Should I be greatfull that they haven't taken the unconscious member, Trent, as hostage?

But seriously why they didn't take it?

But it doesn't matter now.

We will be screwed in next few seconds if I don't do anything.