The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

The first time Ryen pushed his talent to the limit—and still came up short—was during the terrorist attack at the entrance ceremony.

That day haunted him.

He remembered the burning in his limbs, the blinding pressure in his head, the way his vision blurred as he forced himself past what he thought was his peak. And yet, even after pushing beyond, it hadn't been enough.

It was the first time he'd felt truly powerless.

Since then, the feeling lingered like a splinter in the back of his mind. He hadn't broken through the wall people always talked about—not completely—but he had touched it. Caught a glimpse of what lay beyond. And once you see that, once you know it exists, imitating it—even crudely—becomes easier.

That attack changed something in him. For the first time, he realized he might not be able to protect the people around him. He might fail.

If it hadn't been for his friend—the one person who stood beside him without hesitation—Ryen knew he would've lost more than just the fight that day.

He probably wouldn't even be enjoying this peaceful life at the academy if it weren't for that friend.

But there was a cost.

Every time his friend used that strange, overwhelming power, he suffered. Ryen could see it, even when he tried to hide it behind a smile. He said he had a way to recover, that it wasn't a big deal—but pain was pain, and Ryen knew no one ever really got used to it.

And he hated it.

He hated that whenever he was too weak, it was his friend who had to step in and take that pain. He hated how helpless that made him feel.

He didn't want to see that sacrifice anymore.

So he trained. Harder than before. Pushing past exhaustion, through the quiet hours of dawn and the hollow nights. Every drop of sweat, every sore muscle—it was all so he could stand on his own next time.

So he could be the one to protect.

Now, standing here, blade in hand, facing another friend—this one a skilled opponent who met him strike for strike—he felt something stir.

She was strong. Strong enough that he couldn't hold back. Not if he wanted to win. Not if he wanted to prove—to himself more than anyone—that he'd grown.

So, for the first time, he decided to unleash everything.

To channel what he had learned.

Ryen closed his eyes and reached deep into the memory of that day—the fear, the desperation, the determination—and wrapped himself in that feeling. Not the panic, but the clarity that came just after, in the eye of the storm.

And then, he reached for it.

The light of the holy sword, usually faint and flickering, began to glow brighter. Stronger. It pulsed with newfound weight, solidifying like molten gold hardening into a perfect blade.

He wasn't there yet—not truly beyond the wall—but he could touch it.

And for now, that was enough.

"Okay, I'll go all out now."

Ryen exhaled.

His golden aura pulsed. Once.

Then flared violently—blazing upward like a pillar of sunfire.

Leona blinked against the light, wind whipping around her as the pressure hit like a tidal wave.

The crowd gasped. Some rose from their seats.

They could feel it too.

Ryen's sword lifted.

And for the first time in the match…

Leona took a step back.

Not in fear.

But in recognition.

This was the strength he'd been holding back.

Not just power, but intention. Resolve. The will to overwhelm.

"Here I come," he said.

No flash of light. No wasted movement.

He was just—there.

In front of her.

SLASH.

A blow faster than thought.

Leona blocked—barely. Her knees buckled under the impact.

Then came another. And another.

Each strike bled light. Each one carved deep grooves into the stone beneath their feet.

CLANG!

SWOOSH!

CRACK!

The pressure was suffocating.

And yet—Leona grinned.

Even as her arms screamed, even as her legs trembled to hold her ground, she didn't falter.

Because this…

This was what she wanted.

A real fight.

"That's more like it!" she shouted, countering with a brutal overhead strike that split the air.

BOOM!

Their blades met again, and this time, it wasn't clear who was pushing who.

Ryen had gone all out.

And Leona, met it with everything she had left.

With another few exchange of blows...both of them jumped back slightly and stairs at each.

"So, that was you going all out huh?"

"No."

Ryen shook his head in reply.

"What?"

"It was start only. I'm still in middle of going all out."

BOOM!

Their blades clashed again, and this time, neither side gave ground.

Ryen had stopped holding back.

And Leona met him head-on, pouring in every ounce of strength she had left.

Steel rang against steel in a flurry of rapid blows—quick, brutal, unrelenting. Sparks danced with each strike, the tension mounting with every breathless second.

Then, almost in sync, they both leapt backward, landing several feet apart.

For a moment, silence stretched between them—only their heavy breathing filled the air.

They stared at each other, sweat dripping, eyes sharp.

"So... that was you going all out, huh?" Leona asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and fatigue.

Ryen shook his head.

"No."

She blinked, frowning. "What?"

Ryen exhaled, adjusting his grip on the sword. His voice was calm, but it carried weight.

"That was just the beginning. I'm still in the middle of going all out."

Leona's brows drew together, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword.

The tension between them crackled like static.

"You're kidding, right?" she said, voice edged with disbelief. "You're still holding back?"

Ryen's expression didn't change.

Not smug. Not arrogant.

Just… steady.

"I'm not holding back," he said. "I'm just not done yet."

Leona's heart thumped once—hard.

She had faced plenty of strong opponents, cadets and instructors alike, but something about the way he said it made her nerves fire with a mixture of unease and anticipation.

She let out a shaky laugh, trying to shake off the chill racing down her spine.

"You're making me sound like a warm-up act."

"No," Ryen replied softly. "You're the reason I could get this far."

That caught her off guard.

She blinked, and her stance loosened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Ryen took a breath, golden light still flickering around him like a second skin.

"You're pushing me. More than anyone has in a long time. Enough that I can feel that wall again." He tapped the center of his chest lightly. "And I want to break it—this time, for real. I need to."

Leona stared at him, and for a moment, something flickered in her eyes—respect, maybe.

Something deeper.

"So I'm your stepping stone?" she asked, her tone lighter now, teasing but not without edge.

Ryen gave a small smile. "No. You're the storm that helps me grow wings."

"...That's corny as hell."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "But it's true."

The two of them stood there, blades lowered but hearts burning, two warriors at the peak of something neither had fully touched yet.

"I'll admit it," Leona said finally. "You're starting to scare me a little."

"Good," Ryen said, stepping forward, light coiling tighter around his sword.

"Because I'm scared too. Of not becoming someone who can stand beside my friend without dragging him down. Of not being enough to protect those who matter."

Leona's gaze sharpened.

There was no jest in him anymore. No smirk. No cocky smile.

Just that raw, blinding resolve.

"So..." she said slowly, lifting her sword again, "...you're not stopping here?"

"Not until I reach it."

"And what if I don't let you?"

Ryen stepped forward, golden light dancing off his blade, eyes burning.

"Then you better hit harder."

Leona's grin widened—feral and electric.

"Don't blame me if I do."

The tension snapped like a drawn bowstring. Both raised their blades in unison, muscles coiled, breath held.

And then—

"EAT YOUR VEGETABLES!"

The shout echoed through the arena, loud and jarring, like someone had thrown a brick through stained glass.

Both of them froze mid-step, confused.

Leona blinked. "...What?"

Ryen lowered his sword an inch, turning his head toward the stands.

A few rows up, a man in his early thirty, was standing with his arms in the air like a prophet delivering wisdom from the heavens. He looked… suspicious. Both Ryen and Leona could tell they haven't him in the academy even once.

"I SAID," he shouted again, voice cracking slightly, "EAT. YOUR. VEGETABLES!"

The arena fell into stunned silence.

Someone coughed.

Another cadet near the front burst out laughing.

Leona squinted. "Is he… is he trying to cheer someone on?"

Ryen stared. "I think he might've hit his head."

...But both of them doesn't know how dengerous that man could be.

At last, Vegitable Vigilante has arrived at the academy.

And he was about bring chaos.

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Author Note:

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