The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 307: Show For The Protagonist [7]
BOOM—!
The moment Ryen's feet hit the ground again, the stone beneath him cracked like shattered glass, fissures racing outward in all directions. The air quivered from the sudden burst of holy energy.
The masked man didn't even flinch. His coat rippled lightly from the wind pressure, but his posture remained perfectly still — elegant, almost disinterested.
Ryen lunged.
Swoosh!
The holy blade sliced through the air, light scattering in streaks of gold.
But the man moved — again — impossibly fluid, like his body and the shadows obeyed the same command.
Clang!
His fingertips brushed the sword's edge, deflecting it with a faint metallic chime. Sparks rained between them, sizzling out as quickly as they appeared.
Ryen twisted mid-swing, dragging his sword across in a wide arc.
WHOOSH!
A crescent of holy light tore across the ground, colliding into the far wall with a deafening Stone and dust exploded into the air, swallowing half the chamber in smoke.
But the masked man's voice came from within it, cold and unhurried.
[Still not enough.]
FWIP!
He was gone from where he'd stood.
Ryen's eyes widened — he barely caught a flicker of white in his peripheral before—
THUD!
A kick slammed into his ribs, lifting him off his feet like a ragdoll. He hit the wall hard enough to leave a human-shaped crater, the sound echoing through the chamber.
CRACK—!
Blood sprayed from his mouth, droplets suspended midair before splattering to the ground.
"Ryen!!" Nora's voice broke, trembling. She raised her staff, green light flaring as she tried to cast a healing spell. But the masked man's gaze flicked toward her, and the light in her hands faltered.
[Don't interfere.]
Just two words. But the air itself seemed to obey — Nora stumbled back as the mana around her suddenly scattered, her spell breaking apart into nothing.
Ryen groaned, forcing himself to his knees.
Drip… drip…
Blood trickled from his mouth, each drop hitting the ground with a sharp, wet sound.
"You…" he gasped, his voice hoarse and cracked. "You think… this'll stop me?"
He swung his blade downward, stabbing it into the floor.
CLANG!
A shockwave of golden light erupted outward. The ground fractured, walls shuddered. Holy sigils flared to life under his feet, burning with defiant brilliance.
[Do you know what that boy said before he died?]
The masked man's words cut clean through the chaos, quiet but sharp enough to halt the world around him.
"…What?" Ryen's voice cracked — confusion, fear, and disbelief blending into one trembling syllable.
The figure tilted his head, tone almost casual.
[Barbecue party. He said… he was looking forward to it.]
Crack.
Something inside Ryen broke.
It wasn't just rage — it was grief compressed into something molten, bursting through the cracks of his restraint. His fists trembled, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. The world around him blurred red.
"You…" The word scraped out of him, raw and shaking. "You bastard."
[Oh? Anger suits you.]
"Do you really want to die!?"
The masked man's expression couldn't be seen, but his amusement was palpable. Shadows rippled faintly around his form as he raised one hand, beckoning.
[Try it. If you can.]
Something in Ryen snapped completely. His aura flared, gold and crimson light bursting outward — the holy sword at his side answering his fury.
A radiance brighter than fire and colder than steel ignited around him.
The demon in the mask didn't move as Ryen charged, eyes narrowing slightly behind the porcelain.
He could see it — the emotion that stripped Ryen bare, the same one that defined heroes and destroyed them alike.
Rage born of loss.
Pure, uncontrollable.
And for the first time, the masked man smiled beneath the ivory surface.
…It was cruel, maybe. But necessary.
If Ryen was to awaken the second power buried deep within his soul — the one tied to both faith and defiance — he needed something to shatter the fragile wall called hesitation.
The holy sword sang, light screaming against shadow.
The demon extended his hand, ready to meet the blow.
Because sometimes, to awaken someone's strength… you had to be the monster they needed.
----
The holy light burning along Ryen's blade flared brighter — desperate, erratic.
Each swing came faster than the last, sharper, but also sloppier.
There was no technique anymore.
Only rage.
His breathing was ragged, his eyes bloodshot. Every movement screamed fury, not discipline.
And the masked man saw it all — analyzed it, understood it, and dismissed it in the same breath.
The figure sidestepped the flurry of strikes with ease, as if Ryen's sword was moving through syrup. The faint gleam of his white mask reflected the light of Ryen's aura like a taunt.
[You're attacking blindly,] he murmured, voice calm amid the chaos. [So much noise, so little purpose.]
That only enraged Ryen more.
"Shut up!"
Another swing. Another miss.
The masked man didn't even counter — he simply raised his hand, and the pressure in the air deepened, pressing down like invisible gravity.
[Was it all for nothing then?] he said quietly, tone almost conversational. [All his effort, all his pain… enduring this dungeon while waiting for you to come save him?]
Ryen froze mid-step, his sword trembling.
[Judging by your level,] the masked man continued, [you would've only added more corpses to the pile even if you had arrived sooner.]
The words hit harder than any strike.
They were too cruel, too deliberate — a scalpel made of words.
"Shut your mouth!" Ryen roared, surging forward again. But this time, the masked man didn't dodge.
He let Ryen come close — so close that the young man could see his own reflection in the mask's hollow gaze.
[Disappointing,] the man said softly. [All of you are. But you, Ryen… you're the one I had the most hope for.]
Ryen blinked, thrown off by the words even in his fury. "What—?"
[He thought you might become an obstacle to us someday,] the man continued, tone still calm — almost pitying. [So, He sent me here to test you.]
The chamber fell silent. Even the flickering embers of Leona's extinguished flames seemed to hold their breath.
Ryen's grip on his sword faltered. "What… what are you talking about?"
The masked man tilted his head, as if considering how much to say. Then, almost idly, he extended a gloved hand and pointed toward Rin's lifeless body lying on the cold stone floor.
[He killed that boy to test you.]
The words hung there — sharp, heavy, and merciless.
Something in Ryen cracked. His mind went blank. His hands trembled.
He didn't even notice the tears that burned down his cheeks as his aura began to spiral out of control.
"...You…"
The masked man's gaze didn't waver. If anything, his voice grew colder — detached, final.
[Then prove it was worth his death.]
