The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Weapon Master.

An A-rank talent that granted its wielder proficiency in all forms of weaponry, allowing them to wield any blade, bow, or spear as if they had trained with it for years.

But that wasn't all.

The more they fought, the more enemies they faced, the stronger they became.

On paper, it might not sound overwhelming, but in a world where magic reigned supreme, a perfected martial art was a force to be reckoned with.

Almost at the same time, the remaining orc collapsed, slain by the instructor who had finally recovered.

The fight was over.

Ryen exhaled, a relieved smile tugging at his lips as he looked around, confirming that no cadet had been seriously hurt. Leo Taylor, on the other hand, was grinning—clearly pleased with his performance.

Maybe it was the sight of the defeated monsters, their massive bodies lying motionless on the ground.

Maybe it was the triumphant smiles of the protagonists.

Or maybe it was just the sheer weight of the moment finally sinking in.

We had survived.

But a lingering doubt gnawed at the back of my mind.

"Is it really over?"

I muttered under my breath, barely audible even to myself.

Around me, the atmosphere had shifted into one of relief. The cadets were beginning to relax, their tension easing now that the immediate threat seemed to be gone. But I couldn't shake this feeling—this gnawing unease deep in my gut.

Something was wrong.

And a few moments later, I was proven right.

—The Creator rejects the changes made to the world.—

What?

—Intervening to restore the intended course of events.—

Wait… did that mean I was supposed to die?

I stiffened. My gaze flickered across the room. No one else reacted. No signs of fear, no tension, nothing. Judging by their expressions, this ominous voice was for me alone.

Then, the word "Creator" sank in.

And just like that, his face flashed in my mind—my so-called friend.

What would he do if I kept meddling with his story? If I changed things without his permission?

Knowing him… he'd try to force everything back onto his original path.

Or worse—he'd get spiteful. He'd twist the plot into something even more catastrophic, just to mock me. As if to say, See? Your little struggle only made things worse.

I clenched my fists.

Was this really the kind of fight I was up against?

Against the author himself?

A heavy silence settled over me, pressing down like an invisible weight.

If I was right—if the Creator truly intended to restore the story's original course—then survival alone wasn't enough.

I had to outthink him.

I had to find a way to stay alive without disrupting the plot too much, or else he'd just keep sending more disasters my way.

But how the hell was I supposed to fight against someone who controlled the very fabric of this world?

I exhaled sharply. No use panicking. First, I needed to assess the situation.

Ryen and Leo were standing at the front, still basking in the aftermath of victory. The instructor, though visibly exhausted, was keeping an eye on the remaining cadets.

Everything looked normal.

But I knew better.

This moment—the supposed end of the conflict—felt too clean, too perfect. Like a breath before the plunge.

And sure enough, the system wasn't done yet.

—Adjusting variables.—

—The variables has been adjusted.The creator can no longer intervene.—

My stomach dropped.

I barely had time to react before a new presence made itself known.

A sharp gust of wind tore through the auditorium, and the next thing I knew, the air was thick with something wrong.

Here's a more natural and immersive version of the scene while keeping the tension high:

---

"Hahahahaha!"

A low, eerie laughter echoed through the auditorium, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

Slowly, every head turned toward the sound.

A figure stepped through the gaping hole in the shattered wall, moving with an unsettling grace. Dust swirled around him, framing his silhouette like the arrival of something far beyond human.

His gaze swept across the room, taking in everything—the cadets cowering behind the barrier, the professors standing on high alert, the two Protagonists poised for battle, and the instructor who had just fought the orcs moments ago.

Then, for a fleeting second, his eyes locked onto me.

I felt my breath hitch.

An invisible weight settled on my chest, cold and suffocating. My body tensed instinctively, a primal warning screaming at me—this man is dangerous.

A heavy silence followed.

Then, his expression twisted into one of mild displeasure, like an artist unimpressed by his own work.

"Truly magnificent," he mused, his voice smooth yet laced with mockery. "Perhaps I underestimated Velcrest Academy. The best academy in the world, wasn't it?"

Despite his words, there was no admiration in his tone—only amusement, as if he found our efforts nothing more than an amusing little struggle.

Oh, we were screwed.

Even though I couldn't see his face because of that ridiculous joker mask and oversized robe, I knew exactly who he was.

After all, I was one of the unfortunate few who had read this trainwreck of a novel all the way to the latest chapter. Thanks to my friend-of-the-author privileges, I had practically memorized the entire character list.

And there was only one person in this novel twisted enough to wear a crappy joker mask during a massacre.

The mastermind behind this terrorist attack.

The sadistic, pleasure-seeking killer.

Kai Foster.

Shit.

My heart pounded as I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. "You… You're the one behind this, aren't you?"

Kai tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "Hmm? What gave it away?"

Yeah, like the mask wasn't a dead giveaway.

I took a step back, instinct screaming at me to run. Before I could react, a firm voice cut through the tension.

"Cadet Leo Taylor. Cadet Ryen Miller."

I turned my head just in time to see an instructor stepping forward, his expression grim. "You two have done enough to contain the situation. Step back. It's too dangerous for you now."

Leo hesitated for a moment, clenching his fists, but eventually nodded. Ryen, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to argue—but even he wasn't reckless enough to go against a direct order from an instructor.

I, however, didn't have the luxury of stepping back.

Because in this world, I wasn't some untouchable protagonist.

I was just another expendable side character.

And side characters didn't get second chances.