Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?-Chapter 21: Xavier Quinn
Chapter 21: Xavier Quinn
Chapter 21
Big bro, where were you again?"
A little girl looked up with big eyes, holding her brother’s hand tightly.
Xavier smiled, crouched down, and gently patted her head.
"I went to train with Dad," he said. "I need to get stronger, right?"
Their home was small, but it was filled with love.
His father was a proud warrior—Rank 5, respected at a large guild.
His mother stayed at home, taking care of Xavier and his little sister.
They weren’t rich. But they were happy.
At least, that’s what Xavier believed.
⸻
One day, Xavier saw something strange.
He spotted his mother with a man who wasn’t his father. They were holding hands... and kissing.
He was only ten years old—but even he could tell something was wrong.
"Are they... in love? But what about Dad...?"
Confused and scared, Xavier told his father what he saw.
That night, the house was filled with shouting.
His mother cried. His father shouted louder than ever before.
The next morning, Xavier’s father left on a mission.
He never came back.
⸻
"I shouldn’t have said anything..."
Xavier blamed himself.
Days turned to weeks. His mother changed.
She started staying out late with different men.
She drank. She stopped cooking.
And when she was home, she hit Xavier for no reason.
"You ruined everything!" she screamed, throwing plates and wasting money.
Xavier tried to stay strong—for his sister. But deep down, he was terrified.
His once loving home had become a nightmare.
⸻
Then something happened.
Xavier awakened his B-Rank core.
He had real talent. His strength caught the attention of his father’s old guild.
They began sending money again, calling him an investment for the future.
His mother, seeing the money, stopped hitting him.
She didn’t talk to him anymore either.
She just... stayed in bed. Eating. Sleeping. Silent.
⸻
One day, a doctor came to check her.
The news was devastating: Miasma Corrosion.
A deadly disease that slowly destroyed a person’s body from the inside.
There was no cure.
At first, Xavier cried.
Then... he stopped.
Part of him—ashamed to admit it—felt it would be better if she died.
⸻
When she finally passed away, Xavier didn’t cry.
He and his little sister moved to a quieter area.
His sister cried for days, but eventually, she calmed down.
Xavier tried to smile again. Tried to rebuild.
But life had other plans.
At age 18, his sister showed signs of the same disease.
His world shattered—again.
He had lost his father. Lost his mother. And now, he was losing her too.
⸻
Xavier began lashing out.
He bullied weaker students.
Pushed people away.
Even his girlfriend broke up with him, calling him cold and cruel.
Then he saw them.
Daelen Voncrest—the so-called "trash noble"—walking with a beautiful girl named Alisa.
They were laughing.
Xavier couldn’t take it.
"Why does he get to smile while I suffer?"
With his group, Xavier started bullying Daelen.
But Daelen didn’t avoid him.
He challenged Xavier to a duel.
And beat him.
In one hit.
Xavier couldn’t believe it. He attacked again—only to lose again.
After the duel ended, Xavier tried to attack from behind in frustration.
Miss Katrina, their instructor, slapped him across the face.
He was suspended.
Then came the worst blow.
The guild that supported him pulled out. They demanded their money back.
When he couldn’t pay, they threatened to sue him.
He was forced to sell everything.
Now poor again, he left his sister in a dirty slum clinic and got dumped into Class D—the lowest rank at the academy.
He had lost everything.
⸻
One night, sitting alone under a flickering street lamp, a masked man approached.
"We can cure your sister," the man said.
"All we ask is one small favor."
Xavier stared at him.
Even if it cost his life, he would do anything to save her.
⸻
"Xavier Quinn! Second round match! Get moving!"
The instructor’s voice echoed through the field.
Xavier slowly stood up from the bench.
Other students laughed—he had fallen asleep during the tournament.
He didn’t care.
His body ached, but he dragged his sword behind him as he walked into the arena.
The sunlight hit his eyes. The crowd buzzed with noise.
Across from him stood his next opponent:
Orien Vexhart—a noble mage with a smug face and polished robes.
"Oh, look," Orien said with a grin. "The dropout has arrived. I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week."
Xavier didn’t respond.
He reached to his back—and slowly drew his sword.
It was plain. No fancy runes. No magic glow.
Just cold steel.
But in Xavier’s hands, it felt like the last thing holding him together.
He raised it with both hands.
His feet steadied.
His eyes locked onto Orien.
"Come," Xavier said quietly.
The arena buzzed with noise, students whispering, laughing, and jeering.
—————————
"That’s Xavier, right? The bully who got suspended?"
"He’s going to get clapped by Orien."
Xavier didn’t hear them.
He didn’t need to.
His eyes were locked on one thing.
His enemy.
Orien Vexhart stood tall, spinning his wand between his fingers, confidence written all over his smug face.
"Try not to cry, commoner," Orien said with a grin. "I’ll end this quickly."
Xavier didn’t reply.
His sword rested in his right hand. Thick, black mana began to leak from his body—dense, murky, and heavy like smoke. His entire aura felt... wrong.
Darkness.
Not evil. But suffocating.
Instructor raised his hand.
"Begin!"
The moment the signal was given, Xavier exploded forward.
No waiting.
No fancy stance.
Just raw, brute strength.
BOOM!
His foot slammed into the ground, shattering the tile beneath as he charged, sword raised like a beast let loose.
"Too slow," Orien muttered.
"Air Bullet!"
A small burst of compressed wind shot from his wand.
Whoosh!
Xavier tilted his head—barely dodging—and kept running, closing the distance like a demon.
Orien clicked his tongue.
"Wind Slice!"
A blade of sharp wind shot toward Xavier.
Slash!
It grazed his arm—but Xavier didn’t flinch.
His dark mana wrapped around the wound like shadowy threads, preventing the blood from spilling.
Orien’s eyes widened. "What the hell..."
And then—
"Dark Cleave!"
Xavier’s sword turned pitch black as he swung downward like a falling guillotine.
BOOM!
The ground between them cracked as Orien barely jumped back, his robes fluttering from the shockwave.
"Is this guy even sane?!"
Xavier didn’t stop.
He never stopped.
Every swing of his sword came with violent force, powered by darkness.
He didn’t strategize. He overwhelmed.
Orien began to panic.
"Poison Haze!" he shouted.
A greenish mist burst out from his wand, covering a ten-meter radius.
Students gasped.
"Poison?! Already?!"
"I thought that was a Rank 2 spell!"
Inside the mist, Xavier’s vision blurred slightly.
His nose stung.
His arms slowed—
But only for a second.
And then the dark mana around his body began to boil.
His sword lit up with black flame-like energy.
"Drown in this filth?"
"No... I’ve been through worse."
He slashed his sword once—and the mist parted.
Whoosh!
The poison was blown away by the sheer pressure of his swing.
Orien’s face twisted. "No way—!"
Before he could cast again, Xavier was already in front of him.
"Dark Fang."
Xavier muttered, and his sword flickered.
One thrust.
Fast. Heavy. Brutal.
Orien raised a barrier—too late.
CRACK!
The sword shattered through it and sent Orien flying across the arena.
THUD!
Silence.
Orien groaned, blood dripping from his lip, his wand shattered beside him.
Xavier walked toward him slowly, dragging his sword, his body steaming with dark mana.
He looked like a monster—like someone who no longer cared about victory or reputation.
Just survival.
Instructor raised his hand.
"Winner: Xavier Quinn!"
Gasps.
Silence.
Then, quiet murmuring.
"Wait... wasn’t Orien supposed to win?"
"Did Xavier just beat a Rank 2 mage?"
"How strong is he, actually...?"
Xavier didn’t care.
He turned, walking out of the arena without saying a word.
He wasn’t here to prove anything.
He had only one reason to keep fighting—
To save his sister.
Even if it meant turning into a demon.
———————
The arena had gone silent.
Orien Vexhart lay on the floor, unconscious, blood dripping from the edge of his mouth. His wand was broken. His pride, shattered.
Xavier Quinn turned his back to it all.
Dragging his sword, dark mana still coiling around his limbs like living shadows.
Ezra didn’t cheer.
He didn’t clap.
His eyes stayed locked on Xavier’s face—and that’s when he saw it.
His eyes were hollow.
Like the soul behind them had long since burned away.
Ezra sat still, a strange chill running down his spine.
That wasn’t just pain. That wasn’t just anger.
That was emptiness—the kind that consumes everything else.
And then, Ezra’s eyes narrowed.
Dark energy still leaked from Xavier’s body—not like normal darkness-element mana. This was different. Thicker. More unstable. It shimmered faintly with an oily violet sheen.
"...He’s already started consuming it," Ezra whispered.
Miasma.
Tainted mana corrupted by decay and despair. Usually found in monsters or cursed lands.
But Xavier—a human—was using it. Feeding off it. Letting it twist his core.
No wonder his strikes felt so wild. No wonder his presence stank of death.
That’s not just darkness... that’s corruption.
Ezra stood up slowly, gaze still on Xavier’s retreating back.
"If he keeps going like this..."
His fists clenched.
"He’ll lose everything. Even his humanity."
In that moment, Ezra made a silent vow.
He would confront Xavier. Soon.
Because if he didn’t...
He wouldn’t be saving a swordsman.
He’d be slaying a demon.
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