The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

The entire room had gone still.

And the professor's face was a mask of barely contained fury.

But none of that mattered.

Because I had just wasted too much time.

And the explosion was about to happen.

I glanced at the dwindling timer.

—7 seconds until the main quest begins.—

Oh, I was screwed.

Before I could even take a breath, a deafening roar shook the auditorium. The left outer wall crumbled in an instant, sending debris flying.

For a moment, my vision blurred, ears ringing from the shockwave. But when I came to, I was still standing.

The professor had shielded me.

His protective barrier had absorbed most of the impact, keeping me alive. Others weren't as lucky.

I swallowed hard and turned toward the destruction, expecting to see lifeless bodies beneath the rubble.

But… no one was dead.

Some students lay groaning, injured, and others had collapsed from the shock, but miraculously, there were no casualties.

—First achievement acquired: Changing One's Fate. You have survived a predetermined death.—

Wait. What?

That shouldn't have been possible.

My gaze darted around, searching for the reason—until I saw him.

Standing near the wreckage, slightly hunched over, was a boy.

Ryen.

The protagonist.

His uniform was tattered, his arm bleeding, but his hands still flickered with residual energy. He had blocked the explosion.

What the hell?

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

In the original story, the explosion should have wiped out the students near the wall, cutting off the professors from the rest of the room. Then, the traitor's barrier would have prevented any outside intervention, forcing Ryen to awaken his talent after the monsters appeared.

But now?

The professor holding me was outside the barrier. The explosion had been weakened. And Ryen…

My thoughts screeched to a halt when Ryen suddenly turned to look at me.

And waved.

…What?

Before I could process that, his voice rang out.

"Hey! Thank you!"

Every gaze that had been locked on Ryen—the hero who had just blocked an explosion—shifted.

To me.

…Seriously?

I felt a dozen pairs of eyes boring into me. Some confused, some curious, others downright suspicious.

My mouth opened, then closed.

What the hell was I supposed to say?

I had been banking on no one believing me. I thought I'd just look crazy for a few minutes, then quietly escape.

But instead, the protagonist of all people had taken me seriously enough to act.

He had believed me.

He had actually listened.

And now, I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or absolutely terrified.

Relief flooded through me.

I was alive.

Not just me—the cadets who were supposed to die were alive, too.

That was good. A miracle, even.

But there was a problem.

A very, very big problem.

I had caught the protagonist's attention.

And that was not a good thing.

Because if there was one universal truth about protagonists in every novel, it was this—they were trouble magnets. Walking disasters who attracted chaos wherever they went.

And I?

I wanted nothing to do with that.

I had already died once. I had already struggled just to survive this far.

I didn't need any more problems in my life.

Was everything alright now?

I barely had time to let out a breath when—

Ding.

A chill ran down my spine.

This damned world, as if inheriting the author's personality, refused to let things go smoothly.

-Confirmed. A deviation in the original plot has been detected. Adjustments will be made to correct the imbalance.-

I stiffened.

-Casualties have been recalculated. The intensity of subsequent events will be increased accordingly.-

What?

-The appearing monster—originally a lower-class Enhanced Orc—will now be strengthened by the Creator's power.-

My thoughts came to a screeching halt.

What kind of nonsense was this? What kind of self-indulgent, power-tripping author thought this was fair?! Readers don't like this kind of thing! Who the hell enjoys blatant author interference?!

Before I could even process my outrage, the ground trembled.

A low, guttural growl filled the air, seeping into my bones.

Then—

A monstrous, clawed hand burst from the smoking crater where the explosion had torn through the auditorium wall.

And before anyone could react—

A massive fist came hurtling forward, slamming directly into the protagonist.

Ryen barely had time to register the attack before he was sent flying across the hall, crashing through rows of seats like a ragdoll.

My breath caught in my throat.

Shit.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

I gritted my teeth. The story had already gone off the rails.

"What the hell is going on?!"

The professor's voice rang out, laced with disbelief. His grip on my arm remained firm, his body still positioned as a shield in front of me.

"How did they get into the academy?! What happened to the security system?!"

I shot him a sharp glare. Was this guy serious? Was now really the time for questions?

Gritting my teeth, I snapped, "Now do you believe me?"

"Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me!" I practically growled. "We don't have time for this! Do you want to stand around while cadets get slaughtered by these things? If not, then do something!"

A flicker of realization crossed his face.

"You're right," he muttered, his grip loosening as he straightened up. "I'll handle the orcs advancing toward us, but we're not done here. I'll be talking to you later about this."

Talking? About what?

Like hell I was going to explain anything to him.

Still, this should be fine for now. After all, he was an instructor at Velcrest Academy. He should be more than capable of dealing with one powerful orc.

Right?

Just as I started to breathe a little easier, a mechanical voice echoed in my head.

—The presence of an unknown helping factor has been confirmed.

For fuck's sake, not this again.

—Deploying more orcs.

My stomach dropped.

Wait. What?!