The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 49: Basic physical strengthening Class

It wasn’t entirely the students’ fault that they were laughing at me.

Some of the blame—okay, maybe a lot of it—belonged to Rin Evans himself.

That absolute idiot.

I mean, who in their right mind, with a talent like [Enhancement]—a skill tailor-made for the support department—decides to dive headfirst into all the major combat classes?

Swordsmanship. Hand-to-hand combat. Basic physical strengthening. Basic Magic Class.

He chose the hardest, most physically demanding classes possible, despite having the stamina of a wet tissue.

All because he wanted to be a hero.

Well, guess what? You can be a hero from the support department too! It’s not like they only hand out capes to people who can throw punches!

But no. He had to go full fire-and-brimstone and throw himself straight into the furnace.

And to make things worse?

Course selection at Velcrest is locked in for the entire year. That’s right—no switching. Once you’re in, you’re stuck until your second year.

So now, thanks to this lunatic’s brilliant planning, I was stuck in a body barely capable of lifting 25kg dumbbells, being roasted alive in classes made for people built like war machines.

And the mockery? Oh yeah, that was getting worse by the second.

Every failed rep. Every strained grunt. Every wobbly attempt to lift like the others—it was all fuel for the crowd.

"Hehehe... he’s honestly a great source of comedy."

"Hey, leave him alone!"

"What? Why?"

"Because maybe his dream is to be an entertainer after graduation. Can’t you tell how seriously he’s practicing for it? Haha!"

You bastard.

"That’s a good one, bro!"

"Maybe he should just quit if he’s not even serious."

Not serious?! I’m more serious than anyone in this damn room!

You smug pieces of—

Fine.

Laugh while you can.

Mock me all you want.

Just wait. Just wait until I’m strong enough to wipe those smirks off your faces—one by one.

Then we’ll see who the real joke is.

"Quit standing around and do your jobs! Get back to training!"

The shout cut through the noise like a blade.

Everyone froze, myself included.

A man walked in, tall and imposing, his sharp voice silencing the mocking laughter in an instant.

It was Ray Black—Professor Ray Black. Incharge of this class.

His presence was suffocating.

Ray Black wasn’t just tall—he was built like a tank. Muscles rippled under his training uniform, his expression as hard as the steel gauntlets strapped to his forearms.

A former A-Rank Hero, now a full-time instructor at Velcrest.

"Five laps around the training hall. Now."

No one argued. They sprinted off like their lives depended on it. Which, considering who gave the order, they might have believed it did.

Except for me.

Because I couldn’t.

My legs still felt like jelly from the last round of strength drills, and I was barely holding myself up on one knee.

I bit my lip and tried to stand. My arms trembled, knees buckling slightly as I pushed up.

"Tch."

Ray Black’s boots thudded against the floor as he strode toward me. I tensed instinctively.

He stopped in front of me and looked down, his eyes cold and piercing.

"Rin Evans, right?"

"...Yes, sir."

"You’re the enhancement-type who picked a full combat course load."

That tone. Disappointed, irritated. Like he was scolding a child for playing with fire and then being surprised they got burned.

"Yes, sir."

He crouched down slightly to look me in the eye. "Are you stupid?"

I flinched. But I didn’t answer.

"I asked you a question. Are you stupid?"

"...No, sir."

He scoffed. "Could’ve fooled me."

Silence stretched between us for a few seconds before he continued, his voice quieter this time—though no less intense.

"Your form is off," he said flatly.

"...What?"

"Cadet Rin Evans," he continued, like he was reading from a file, "you’ve clearly been working out on your own, without proper instruction. If you keep lifting like that, you’re going to hurt your lower back."

That... actually wasn’t a joke?

He sounded genuinely serious.

I blinked, unsure how to react. One moment he was publicly humiliating me, and now he was giving me unsolicited gym advice?

Was this concern? Professional obligation? Or just a way to pile more embarrassment on me?

Still, as much as I wanted to snap back, I was struggling.

And I was probably doing it wrong.

So I bit back my pride and nodded slightly.

"...Okay. What should I change?"

His eyes narrowed, as if surprised I asked.

Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to listen.

"First, fix your grip," he said, moving behind me. "Your hands are too wide apart. Keep them shoulder-width. And stop arching your back—you’re not trying to snap your spine in half."

I adjusted awkwardly as he spoke, feeling a little like a puppet being repositioned.

"Better," he said after a moment. "Now lift with control, not desperation."

I followed his instructions.

To my surprise, the weight felt just a little bit... lighter.

Okay, maybe not lighter, but I wasn’t wobbling like a baby deer anymore.

"Keep practicing that. And next time, don’t train alone unless you know what you’re doing."

With that, he turned and walked off like he hadn’t just thrown my worldview into chaos.

I stood there for a second, dumbfounded.

...What just happened?

Did Professor Ray Black—the walking brick wall with a PhD in sarcasm—actually help me?

Huh. Maybe today wasn’t a total disaster after all.

After his... rather blunt assistance, lifting weights suddenly felt less like torture and more like a proper workout. The strain in my muscles had eased up, and I wasn’t teetering on the edge of collapse anymore.

A definite win.

But that didn’t mean my problems had magically disappeared.

I paused, setting the dumbbells down with a soft thud, and scanned the room.

People were still laughing at me, just a little more discreetly now—like they suddenly remembered basic decency after watching a teacher step in.

And then there was her.

Miss Buttcheeks. The girl who had openly mocked me earlier and now stood off to the side, surrounded by her entourage of giggling sycophants.

She was pointing at me. Laughing again. Whispering something to her friends, who chuckled like they were at some comedy show.

Our eyes met.

She smirked. Smug. Unapologetic. Then looked away like I didn’t even matter.

I sighed.

It’s fine.

She’s going to die soon anyway. A few weeks from now, fate’s going to chew her up and spit her out. Hard.

Let her enjoy her moment while she still can.

Anyway, gym class was over. Which meant it was time to drag myself to Basic Magic.

A class that Rin Evans—the original one—had no business signing up for, by the way. He could barely conjure a light spell without passing out, and yet... here I was.

Stuck with his choices.

No turning back now.