Did I Get Reincarnated as a Supporting Character?

The sun dipped below Cresthaven's spires, casting long shadows across the courtyard where the surviving applicants gathered. Sung-Min slumped against a stone bench, his body a symphony of aches. The staff he'd used in the duel rested beside him, its rough wood a silent trophy of his unexpected victory. His brown hair clung to his sweat-damp forehead, and his emerald-green eyes flickered with a mix of exhaustion and quiet triumph. Joren's defeat had been a fluke to some—a lucky stumble—but to Sung-Min, it was proof he could bend this world to his will, one small twist at a time.

Around him, the other applicants buzzed with chatter, their voices a blend of bravado and nerves. The Gauntlet and the Duel had culled nearly half the group, leaving only the resilient—or the reckless. Sung-Min scanned the faces, cataloging them against his memory of Eternal Bonds. Darius Kane, the red-haired bruiser, loomed near a fountain, laughing with a knot of admirers. The girl with twin braids—Sera, if he recalled—sat alone, scribbling in a notebook, her staff propped against her shoulder. No Kang-Jae yet, though. The protagonist's absence gnawed at Sung-Min. Was he in a different group? Or had Sung-Min's presence already delayed his grand entrance?

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up to find Liora standing there, her silver hair catching the last rays of daylight. Her violet eyes were as piercing as ever, but there was a flicker of something new—curiosity, maybe. She crossed her arms, the faint hum of mana pulsing from the staff slung across her back.

"You're still here," she said, her tone flat but not unkind. "I half-expected you to limp off after that stunt with Joren."

Sung-Min grinned, pushing himself upright despite the protest of his muscles. "Takes more than a loudmouth with a sword to scare me off. Besides, I told you I'd pass."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Luck won't carry you through tomorrow. The third trial tests magic. You don't look like you've got much to spare."

His grin faltered. She wasn't wrong. The faint tingle he'd felt in the forest was all he had—a spark, not a flame. In the novel, Min-Sung had been a magical dud, barely able to light a candle before his humiliating exit. Sung-Min had no idea what this body was capable of, but he couldn't let her see that doubt. "I've got enough," he said, meeting her gaze. "You'll see."

Liora's lips twitched again—that almost-smile he was starting to recognize. "We'll see." She turned to leave, then paused. "Get some rest. You'll need it." With that, she strode off, her silhouette blending into the crowd.

Sung-Min exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Liora's interest—however slight—was a curveball. In the book, she'd been untouchable, her focus locked on Kang-Jae. Was she just sizing up the competition, or had his defiance sparked something? He filed it away, too tired to unravel it now.

A bell tolled, deep and resonant, signaling the end of the day. Proctors ushered the applicants toward the dormitories—temporary quarters for those still in the running. Sung-Min followed, his legs leaden but his mind buzzing. The dorm was a squat stone building, its halls lined with narrow bunks and flickering mana-lamps. He claimed a spot near a window, dropping onto the thin mattress with a groan. The chatter of his peers faded into a dull hum as he stared at the ceiling, tracing cracks in the stone.

Sleep didn't come easy. His old life—convenience stores, late-night novels, the hum of his apartment's cheap heater—felt like a dream now. This world was real, vivid, and dangerous. He flexed his fingers, willing that spark of magic to surface. It flickered, weak but stubborn, a thread of warmth curling through his palm. "Come on," he muttered, clenching his fist. "Give me something to work with."

A soft laugh broke his focus. Sera, the braided girl, sat on the bunk across from him, her notebook open on her lap. "Talking to yourself already?" she asked, her voice light but sharp. Up close, he saw her eyes were a bright hazel, framed by freckles that dotted her nose. Her staff leaned against the wall, its tip etched with tiny runes.

Sung-Min sat up, masking his surprise with a shrug. "Just thinking out loud. Bad habit."

She smirked, flipping a page in her notebook. "You're the one who tripped Joren, right? Not bad for someone who looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over."

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "Guess I'm full of surprises. I'm Min-Sung, by the way."

"Sera," she replied, tapping her pencil against her chin. "You don't act like the others— all puffed up and ready to prove something. What's your deal?"

He hesitated. Sera wasn't a major character in the novel—just a background student who'd popped up in a few academy scenes. Smart, scrappy, but never in Kang-Jae's orbit. Maybe that made her safe to talk to. "I'm just here to survive," he said, keeping it vague. "Maybe make a name for myself while I'm at it."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Fair enough. Word of advice, though—watch your back tomorrow. Joren's not the type to let a loss slide, and the magic trial's a free-for-all. People get… creative."

"Noted," Sung-Min said, filing that away. "What about you? What's your trick?"

Sera grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Runes. I'm not flashy, but I'm precise. You'll see." She snapped her notebook shut and flopped back on her bunk. "Night, Min-Sung. Don't snore."

He snorted, lying back himself. "No promises."

Morning came too soon, heralded by another tolling bell. Sung-Min dragged himself from bed, his body stiff but his mind sharp. The third trial loomed, and with it, the chance to prove he wasn't just a fluke. He splashed water on his face from a basin, catching his reflection in a cracked mirror. The brown hair was a tangled mess, the emerald eyes still bright despite the shadows beneath them. His frame was still thin, but there was a hint of steel in his posture now—a promise of what he could become.

The applicants gathered in a vast circular arena, its floor etched with glowing sigils. Dean Valtor stood at the center, his black robe billowing as he addressed them. "Trial Three: The Crucible. Summon your magic. Shape it. Those who falter, leave. Begin."

The air crackled as students unleashed their power—flames, ice, gusts of wind—each vying for dominance. Sung-Min's group formed a loose circle, and he spotted Joren across from him, his sword swapped for a glowing orb of earth magic. Sera stood nearby, her fingers tracing runes in the air that shimmered faintly. Liora was in another group, her staff ablaze with blue fire, drawing gasps from the onlookers.

Sung-Min closed his eyes, reaching for that spark. It flared, fragile but alive, a thread of green light coiling around his hand. He had no training, no spells—just instinct and a lifetime of reading fantasy novels. "Come on," he whispered, picturing a shield, a blade, anything. The light flickered, then stretched, forming a crude barrier of shimmering energy.

Joren laughed, loud and mocking. "That's it? Pathetic!" He hurled a boulder of earth, the size of a melon, straight at Sung-Min. The crowd tensed, but Sung-Min held his ground, thrusting his hands forward. The barrier flared brighter, cracking under the impact—but it held. The boulder shattered, dust raining down.

Sung-Min's arms shook, sweat beading on his brow, but he grinned. "Not bad for pathetic, huh?"

Joren snarled, summoning another, but Sera intervened. Her runes flared, a net of light snapping around the boulder and crumbling it midair. "Pick on someone your own size," she quipped, winking at Sung-Min.

"Thanks," he muttered, refocusing. The spark was growing, feeding off his will. He shaped it again, this time into a thin blade of light. It wasn't much—barely a dagger—but it cut through the air when he swung, slicing a stray gust of wind from another student.

The trial stretched on, a chaotic dance of power. Sung-Min dodged, blocked, and struck where he could, his magic small but precise. Joren tired, his attacks growing sloppy, while Sera's runes wove a quiet defense. When the bell rang, signaling the end, Sung-Min was still standing, chest heaving, his barrier flickering but intact.

Dean Valtor's voice cut through the silence. "Passers, step forward." Sung-Min joined the line, Joren grudgingly beside him, Sera smirking a few paces away. Liora passed too, her gaze lingering on Sung-Min as she joined the ranks.

He'd made it. Weak, untested, and out of his depth—but he'd made it. As the crowd dispersed, Sung-Min clenched his fist, the faint green light still dancing in his palm. This was just the beginning.