The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Aside from Carl Thompson, the only real threat left had been Asher.

And now he was down too.

In the original story, Asher was Carl's right-hand man—his enforcer, the one who turned the tide when things got dicey.

But he'd just been beaten into the ground by me.

Carl Thompson was panicking.

'Yeah, panic, you bastard.'

I couldn't help the grin spreading across my face—bloody, exhausted, but victorious.

And right on cue, Trent stirred and joined our formation, his eyes widening as he took in the battlefield.

"Stop them… I said stop them!!" Carl screamed, voice cracking as he roared at the remnants of his team.

But his words rang hollow now.

Most of his subordinates were already out cold—sprawled on the ground, groaning, unconscious, or too injured to stand. Only two or three were still on their feet, and even they looked too shaken to fight.

One took a step forward—then took two back instead.

Even they knew it.

They couldn't stop us.

They had lost.

And somewhere deep down, Carl knew it too.

His plan was falling apart.

The easy prey had bitten back.

All that was left now—

Was him.

And Leo was the perfect answer to that.

"It's time to end this, small fry," Leo said, stepping forward, his eyes sharp and steady.

Carl's eyes locked onto Leo—and I could see the flicker of fear ripple through him.

Carl Thompson's crew, before gaining the dungeon rewards that were meant to make them real threats, were nothing compared to Leo now.

Not after he'd awakened the Drakevolt Spear.

And especially not now that the weapon had responded to his will.

Lightning surged along the spear's shaft, crackling as it coiled and pulsed like a living thing. The transformation wasn't just power—it was fury, purpose, a bond between warrior and weapon.

Leo's voice was calm. Cold.

"Stormcall."

That was its name now.

The moment he spoke it, the Drakevolt Spear burst into brilliant light—pure lightning dancing in his hands.

Carl took a shaky step back.

"N-No, wait—!"

Too late.

Leo raised the spear.

"The End, trash."

He hurled it.

The bolt of lightning that tore through the battlefield wasn't just a weapon—it was judgment.

Carl's remaining allies didn't even have the chance to scream. The lightning carved a path through them, erupting on impact in a shower of sparks and smoke.

When the light faded, they were down.

Every last one.

Carl fell to his knees, shaking.

He looked up.

And saw us—Rin, Leo, Violet, Mira, Trent, and Ama—still standing. Bruised. Bloodied.

But standing.

And he knew then.

He'd already lost.

Carl stared at the ground, arms trembling, his whole body smoking from the residual lightning.

His voice cracked as he muttered, "You think this means anything…? This wasn't supposed to happen…"

Leo didn't respond.

He didn't need to.

He walked forward, step by step, the crackling of residual energy still dancing around the spear in his hand.

Carl looked up, face twisted with fear—and something else. Hatred.

"You think you're heroes now?" he spat. "You think this changes anything?!"

Leo stopped in front of him.

"No," he said flatly. "But it ends you."

Carl lunged, desperately, with a dagger he'd hidden in his sleeve.

But Leo was faster.

The spear moved in a flash of light—arcing with a final surge of power.

A single, clean strike.

The sound of lightning cracking the air was the last thing Carl Thompson ever heard.

He collapsed, smoke rising from the wound that had ended him.

Leo stood over the body for a moment, his face unreadable. Then the lightning died down, and the spear returned to its dormant form, humming quietly in his grip.

"Done," he said simply.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

Thud—!

And then someone body hit the ground.

Of course, that someone was non other then me!

I have used the [Enhancement] to it's limit and I also enhance the potential of my own Talent by eating magical fruit for little while.

...Now it's time for penalty of that talent come and bite me.

"Cough!"

Evreyenon except Leo was looking at me.

"Da-mit.... Cough.....Cough...Haaa... cough!"

Ah, I couldn't even stoping the blood even if I tried.

Although it looked serious with all the blood, I wasn't actually in that much pain.

I wasn't coughing up fresh blood, but waste products and dead blood that remained in my body, expelled as my body became healthier.

Well, it did hurt, but the [ Oath of the Saint] was healing me, and thanks to the Entire fruit, my body had become stronger, so it wasn't unbearable.

It would have been a problem if I had used my power beyond the time limit, but I stopped right before.

It felt like I was choking on water.

But it seemed like it didn't look that way to others, as the expressions of Leo's party members weren't very good.

"H-he suddenly…!? Ama, try a healing spell…!"

"O-okay, Mira! I got it! "

Oh, my already comfortable body felt even better as it was enveloped in a warm light.

"Cough!"

I doubled over, a sharp pain lancing through my chest.

Blood hit the ground—dark, thick, unnatural.

And it didn't stop.

I kept coughing, my hands trembling, my vision spinning.

Everyone froze.

They stared at me—horrified.

I couldn't blame them.

Just moments ago, I was fine. Standing tall. Unscathed.

And now? I was crumpled over, spitting out blood like my insides were tearing apart.

Of course they were startled.

Violet took a step toward me, panic in her eyes, reaching into her satchel for a potion.

Then a calm, familiar voice cut through the panic.

"Stop. Healing won't work on him."

Leo.

He stepped into the group, his face grim as he knelt beside me.

His eyes met mine—stern, disappointed, but not unkind.

"You used your Primal Qi again, didn't you?" he said. "I thought you'd learned. But you're still reckless."

I tried to speak, but another cough racked my body.

The others looked between us, confused.

"Leo, what are you talking about?" Trent asked.

Leo didn't turn to him. His gaze stayed locked on me.

"He pushed his soul energy—Primal Qi—past the limit during the fight. That kind of energy doesn't heal with potions or magic. It burns from within."

Everyone went quiet.

Violet froze mid-motion, her hand still hovering near her potion pouch.

I could feel their eyes on me again.

Only now, it wasn't just concern.

It was disbelief.

Worry.

Fear.

Like I was something fragile—something broken.

Leo sighed and stood up.

"You probably thought we wouldn't win without you."

He paused.

"And maybe... maybe you were right. It could've gotten ugly."

He turned his back, folding his arms.

"But you didn't need to burn yourself out like this. Not again."

I wanted to argue.

To say it was worth it.

That I couldn't risk Carl getting away. That Asher had pushed me too far.

But the words never came.

Only more blood.

And that continued for few more seconds.

But at least no more blood is coming out from my mouth.

I wiped the blood from my lips with the back of my hand, barely keeping my arms steady.

Everything felt heavy now. My limbs, my lungs… my thoughts.

The adrenaline was gone, drained out of me like water from a broken dam.

Only the weight remained.

Warm light washed over me again—Ama's healing spell.

Her magic was soft, gentle. Like sunlight after a storm.

It didn't fix the damage. It couldn't. But it helped. It made the edges of the pain dull, turned the unbearable into something I could just barely tolerate.

"Don't move too much," she whispered, voice trembling. "Please. Just… breathe."

I nodded.

Didn't speak.

Didn't trust my voice not to break.

Mira crouched beside me, her eyes scanning my face like she was trying to read between the lines. Like maybe I was hiding something worse.

"Rin…" she murmured. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Because if I had said something, I wouldn't have gone through with it.

Because if I'd let myself hesitate, Asher might've stood back up.

Because some fights… just don't leave room for half-measures.

"I'm okay," I rasped, barely audible.

She didn't look convinced.

Leo was still standing off to the side, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed—not angry anymore, just… tired.

"He'll be fine," he said, almost to himself. "Idiot's got a body made of iron nails and spite."

Violet gave him a look, but she didn't argue.

Instead, she came over and silently placed a small canteen in my hand. Cool water. I hadn't even realized how dry my mouth was.

I took a sip, my throat screaming as I swallowed.

The silence stretched. Uncomfortable. Thick.

And then—surprisingly—it was Trent who broke it.

He let out a shaky laugh.

"Well… that was dramatic," he said. "Can we all agree to not almost die next time? Or at least take turns?"

A soft chuckle escaped Ama's lips. Even Mira smiled, just a little.

Leo exhaled through his nose. "No promises."

We all laughed.

Quietly. Weakly. But genuinely.

But finally, I was fine.

The laughter died down slowly, like embers cooling after a fire.

No one said it, but we all knew.

That had been too close.

Too much.

We were alive, yeah. But the kind of alive that left marks—inside and out.

Violet moved first, walking through the debris and fallen enemies, making sure no one else was getting back up. Mira followed, muttering incantations under her breath, her spells searching for lingering threats.

Ama stayed by my side, her hand still resting on my shoulder as if afraid I'd collapse again if she let go.

"I'll be okay," I whispered, finally able to hold her gaze.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't believe me—but she nodded anyway.

Now, let's get out of this damn doungen.