Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?

Chapter 14

Ezra took his seat by the window, sunlight streaming through the enchanted glass panes that adjusted themselves to the light. His eyes scanned the classroom—grand in design, with spell-inscribed walls, mana-absorption floors, and floating orbs that acted as both lighting and surveillance.

Class 1-D.

The so-called worst section of first-years.

He didn't mind.

Professor Kael Daraw strode slowly to the enchanted blackboard. With a lazy wave of his hand, he traced glyphs in the air. The symbols flared to life, assembling into glowing letters.

"Fundamentals of High-Tier Basic Spells"

Without turning around, Kael mumbled, "Open your textbooks to page twenty-five."

There was a flurry of pages turning.

Kael lifted a hand again and pointed vaguely toward the front rows.

"You there—second seat, front row. Start reading."

A girl stood, adjusting her glasses. Her voice rang clearly through the quiet classroom.

"As we studied in the first semester, basic spell casting involves channeling mana through core-aligned veins using foundational glyph structure…"

She continued to read, line after line, describing how layering of mana streams enabled stability and power for intermediate spells.

Meanwhile, Kael shuffled back to his desk.

He collapsed into his chair. Within moments—his breathing evened out.

And just like that—he was asleep.

A ripple of reaction passed through the class.

Some students blinked in disbelief. A few chuckled quietly. Whispers bloomed.

But the girl reading didn't stop. Her voice now tinged with irritation, she continued the passage despite clearly noticing her teacher had checked out.

In the back rows, students started doing their own thing—sketching glyphs, whispering spell theories, even experimenting with tiny fireballs under their desks.

Kael's eyes remained closed.

Then—

"Sir!" a sharp voice broke the chatter.

A girl from the back row stood with narrowed eyes and an open notebook. She had short auburn hair and a hint of fire in her tone.

"I don't get the second part of the mana layering calculation. Can you explain it again?"

Kael stirred, yawning loudly.

"Hmm? What was that?"

The girl clenched her jaw.

"The second formula. The one tied to elemental shift during continuous casting."

Kael blinked, stared at her drowsily, and said, "And what part of it exactly don't you understand?"

The girl frowned, confused.

"I literally just told you—"

"No," Kael cut her off. "That's still too vague. What is the layering meant to achieve? What does it do?"

Her lips parted in protest. "That's why I'm asking you!"

Kael waved his hand like brushing off a breeze.

"Go learn it first. Then come back and ask a proper question."

Her face turned red—not from embarrassment, but fury.

Just then—

DING–DING

The class bell rang.

Kael stood, stretched, and walked out without another word—hands in his pockets, posture perfectly relaxed.

The classroom erupted.

"He's so annoying…"

"Why is he our magic instructor?!"

"Didn't even teach us a damn thing…"

Ezra stayed seated, his arms folded. His book remained open.

I didn't understand a single thing today.

He frowned—frustration creeping up on him. That rarely happened.

But I know who he is. He's not lazy—he's just broken.

Still, if this is how class is going to be, I'll have to earn his respect first…

Ezra closed his book, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the classroom.

The hallway outside was buzzing with students hurrying to lunch or dorms. The academy clock tower struck 11:45 AM with a deep chime that echoed through the corridors.

Sword & Mana Integration, his next class, would start at 1:30 PM.

For now, he headed toward the Blue Tower dorms.

But deep down, one thought stayed with him:

Kael Arkzen… I will make you teach me properly. Even if I have to drag your soul back into that broken passion you buried.

—————-

Ezra sat quietly in the skyrail, arms folded like a grumpy cat that had seen too much of the world. The sleek mana-powered cabin hummed beneath him like it was proud to exist. Outside, Etherlight Academy looked like some fantasy architect had overdosed on inspiration—sky bridges, floating banners, spell-gliders zooming by like magical mosquitoes.

Ezra stared out the window, his expression blank but noble, like a man who was 90% mystery and 10% trauma.

"Still haven't seen any of the main characters…" he muttered.

No Daelen. No Marcus. Not even lyria with her signature red hair.

"Well… makes sense. They're not in my class. And definitely not in Blue Tower," he added with a smirk. "Blue Tower… no protagonists. No supporting cast. Just us certified background characters."

He leaned back like a man at peace with irrelevance.

The train soared along glowing aether tracks, academy scenery passing by like a high-budget animation flex. Elemental gardens floated mid-air like someone just said "physics? Never heard of her." Spell-gliders whooshed by with students laughing like they weren't five missed assignments behind.

Ezra turned back inside the cabin.

And then—

"Hey!"

Like a surprise sound effect in a horror movie, the loud voice snapped him out of his peaceful brooding.

Ezra glanced sideways, and there he was: a brown-haired boy with just enough mess in his hair to scream "I woke up like this," paired with dangerously enthusiastic black eyes.

The boy plopped down across from him, grinning like a golden retriever that had just found its human.

"Hello!" the boy beamed.

Ezra blinked.

Who the hell programmed this NPC?

Still, he nodded back, voice polite as ever. "Hello."

"I'm Renji! We're in the same class—1-D. You probably don't remember me, but I remember you."

Ezra raised an eyebrow.

That's not creepy at all.

Renji leaned in like he was about to reveal national secrets.

"You were sitting near the window. Dude, you're stupidly handsome. Every girl in class was whispering about you."

Ezra maintained his poker face, but internally:

Please stop. I beg of you.

"And the way you shut down that jerk Xavier? Bro. Chef's kiss." Renji mimed a dramatic kiss into the air.

Ezra gave a half-smile, hoping that was enough to stop the verbal avalanche.

It wasn't.

"Did you know Xavier used to be super popular? B-rank core, all that. But then he got lazy. Totally fell off. Now he's just… background trash. No offense. Well, maybe some offense."

Ezra sighed mentally.

I know all this. I read the freakin' novel.

"Daelen Voncrest sliced him in one move during the evaluation duel last semester. One. Hit. KO. Like a final boss swatting a mosquito. Then he reported him for potion smuggling. Dude got suspended for two months. Two!"

Ezra's eye twitched.

This man's mouth doesn't come with an off switch.

"Xavier's back now though. He's brooding. Rumor is, he's plotting his comeback arc. Probably practicing evil monologues in front of a mirror."

Ezra tried. He really tried.

"Sorry," he interrupted, voice calm and civil, "but could you please keep it down? There are others on the train."

"Oh—right! My bad." Renji scratched his head sheepishly. "Didn't mean to go full audiobook mode."

As the train neared Blue Tower station, he stood up with a wink.

"But hey! I'm in Blue Tower too. Looks like we're dorm-mates! Let's hang out more!"

Ezra smiled faintly. "Of course."

Just fuck off.

But all he said was,

"Looking forward to it."

The train came to a smooth halt—but instead of a platform or a proper station, what greeted them was a wide-open gate perched on the edge of a cliff-like drop.

Ezra stood at the front, peering down with a flat expression.

It was at least a fifteen-story fall.

Behind him, a line of Blue Tower students gathered, already stretching their arms, cracking their necks, some even chatting excitedly.

Ezra blinked.

"This… is the dorm entrance?"

"If I ever meet the author who wrote this world, I'm going to beat the shit out of him."

With a sigh, he stepped forward.

And jumped.

The wind whipped past his face, but his posture was steady. No flashy flips, no magic.

He didn't even use mana to cushion the fall.

Ezra landed softly, his foot barely stirring the dust beneath him.

No cracked tiles. No shockwaves.

Just a perfect, silent landing.

Behind him, several students blinked.

"…Did he just not use mana?"

"That landing… was that assassin-level?"

"Is he a dual type?"

Whispers followed as more students leapt down in their own flashy styles—mana-boosted legs, wind cushioning, shadow-steps. But no one made as silent and precise a landing as the silver-haired boy who was already walking away, hands in pockets.

"Ridiculous," Ezra thought as he adjusted his collar. "Jumping from trains to get into dorms. What kind of fantasy-Hogwarts-X-Gymnastics school is this?"

The view ahead, however, calmed even his inner monologue.

The Azureus Dormitory was more estate than dorm—an enormous mansion-like complex with shining sapphire rooftops and walls of polished stone veined with mana. Four tower spires—two in the front, two at the back—rose around it, warded with defensive enchantments and surveillance arrays.

Floating above the front gate was a large navy-blue flag, stitched with the symbol of a golden dragon curling around a sword.

In elegant script, the name was woven beneath:

House Azureus

Ezra passed several seniors coming in and out of the estate. Some looked curious. Others ignored him.

But all were marked by the same symbol on their coats: a coiled dragon in gold.

He walked toward a side building labeled "Warden's Office," its structure designed with subtle magical motifs—paintings that shimmered when you glanced at them, a bonsai , soft mana-lights glowing like lanterns.

He knocked on the half-open door, leaning forward slightly.

"Sir, may I come in?"

"Come in," came a gruff voice.

Inside, the warden sat behind a wide wooden desk, a half-burnt cigar in one hand and a floating newspaper in front of him. He was a square-built man with close-cropped hair and a body like a steel vault.

He lowered the paper and sized Ezra up.

"You the new one?"

"Yes, sir. Ezra Celestrian."

The warden checked the screen on his desk, typing a few commands.

"Ezra Celestrian… Ah. The one who just re-registered. Says here you're assigned to Room 81, eighth floor." He glanced at the boy again. "Only one available. It's a shared room, so you'll have a roommate."

Ezra gave a polite nod. "Understood, sir."

The warden smirked slightly. "Good manners. You'll last longer than most."

Ezra bowed lightly and turned to leave.

Behind him, the warden puffed his cigar and muttered:

"Rare these days. A kid who doesn't act like he owns the damn place."

Meanwhile, Ezra was already walking toward the central tower.

"Shared room… I can manage," he thought.

Then his eyes narrowed.

"But if he snores or touches my stuff, I'm kicking him out."

After all, Ezra did many… personal things in private.

[Author's Note: You know. If you know 🌚]