The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character
Chapter 117: Protagonist Always Arrives Late [3]

Chapter 117: Protagonist Always Arrives Late [3]

"I’ll burn your office," Ethan whispered, lips curled into a crooked smile. "And I’ll leave just one thing alive. So they can tell the story."

He leaned in slightly.

"Tell them: Lena couldn’t save you."

"I won’t need to save them," Lena said quietly.

She took a step forward and raised her fists. Her stance shifted subtly—nothing flashy, nothing that would alarm the untrained eye. But for anyone who truly understood combat, the shift was unmistakable.

A silence passed.

"Because you won’t leave this room."

Ethan scoffed, eyes narrowing.

"Still clinging to that hero complex?" he said, shaking his head. "You haven’t changed a bit. You were always the one-trick specialist. Good at duels, bad at war. A worn-out A-ranker surrounded by kids you’re trying to protect. You can’t beat me, Lena. Not here."

"If that’s what you think," she said evenly, "then come at me."

There was no bravado in her tone. Just quiet certainty.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. He had fought her before—he remembered her precision, her power, but also her limits. He’d found the cracks in her technique once. He could do it again.

Or so he thought.

Just a month ago, Lena might’ve believed him.

She had hit a wall. Her growth plateaued, her body aging, her reflexes dulled. She remembered the frustration—nights staring at the ceiling, wondering if she’d already given everything she had.

But then something changed.

That one night—one fight—where she caught a glimpse of what she could still become.

She had been practicing since. Not obsessively. Quietly. Patiently. Her training wasn’t about brute strength anymore. It was refinement. Focus.

Precision.

And even a slight improvement, at her level, was enough to redraw the battlefield entirely.

Ethan took a step, raising his hand—

Lena moved.

Her fist shot forward like a bullet, wind trailing in its wake.

Five insect monsters burst apart mid-air, their heads exploding in perfect synchronicity before they even registered her movement.

The air fell still.

Ethan stared.

"...Is that all?" Lena asked calmly.

Her tone wasn’t mocking. Just... tired.

She stood tall, the slight breeze ruffling her coat. For the first time since the chaos started, the students behind her felt something beyond fear.

Hope.

Lena wasn’t just fighting back.

She was changing.

She was growing.

Ethan clenched his jaw.

"You always were the type to get sentimental," he muttered, his voice low. "But you think one parlor trick makes you strong enough to beat me now?"

Lena’s eyes never left his.

"No," she replied. "It makes me strong enough to finish what I should’ve finished the last time."

The shadows around Ethan rippled as more insects crawled forth, forming grotesque armor along his limbs. His aura darkened. Rage flared in his eyes.

"Fine then," he snarled. "Let’s see what that growth spurt of yours is really worth."

The room trembled.

But Lena didn’t flinch.

She had finally stopped looking backward.

Now, she was moving forward.

The air cracked with tension as Ethan’s body rippled, his muscles distorting under the crawling insects that covered his limbs like a shifting exoskeleton. Mandibles clicked. Chitin clattered.

"You’re not the only one who’s grown," he sneered.

His feet dug into the ground—then, in a blink, he shot forward like a missile.

Lena was ready.

The clash sent out a shockwave that cracked the walls and shattered any remaining glass. Ethan’s monstrous fist met her bare knuckles—and it was her punch that won. His carapace shattered like brittle porcelain.

The students behind her ducked under desks and rubble, eyes wide in awe.

"That... that’s Professor Lena?" someone whispered.

"She’s actually winning...?"

Rin, barely conscious and still kneeling against the wall, raised his head just enough to see. Blood dripped down his chin, but his lips curled into a smile.

"She wasn’t like that... before," he rasped. "She’s... changed."

In the middle of the room, the battle became a blur of motion.

Ethan didn’t retreat. If anything, he got faster. Spikes erupted from his arms, slicing the air like scythes. Insects swarmed, aiming to latch onto Lena’s limbs, to hold her in place.

She danced between them, footwork light but purposeful. Each step was calculated, her body weaving through his storm like a ribbon in the wind.

Then—

Ethan grinned wide. "You really think they admire you? These kids? They’ll cheer now, but wait until they grow up."

He batted aside debris and charged again.

"They’ll remember how you failed to save others. They’ll remember the body count you left behind in past missions."

He struck again—Lena blocked it.

"And when you’re gone, they’ll put you on a pedestal. They’ll call you a hero. Then they’ll forget."

Another punch—another dodge.

"That’s what they do, Lena. They forget. Just like you forgot what you sacrificed to wear that badge."

She caught his wrist mid-swing.

"I remember everything," Lena whispered.

She spun, using his momentum to flip him into the air—and when he landed, she was already on him, driving her elbow down like a hammer.

Crack!

His shoulder shattered.

"You think you’re cruel, Ethan?" she said, breathing heavily but steady. "You think you’re the only one who’s seen the truth? No."

She pulled back as insects tried to swarm her—then snapped her fingers. A surge of wind burst out from her core, blasting the swarm away in a wide arc.

"I know this world’s ugly. I know it forgets. But that doesn’t give you the right to become the monster people fear."

Ethan coughed, spitting blood.

He laughed.

"You always were too noble for this world. That’s why it’s going to eat you alive."

Behind her, the students trembled. The ones still conscious huddled together. Natasha clutched her bow, eyes fixed on Lena’s back.

"She’s holding him off alone... and still protecting us..."

"She’s a monster," someone whispered in awe.

"No," Rin said faintly. "She’s a professional."

A moment passed.

Then Ethan rose again—slower now. Bleeding. Insects drooped off his body like molten wax. But his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"You don’t get it," he hissed. "I want them to remember me."

He spread his arms wide, blood dripping from his fingertips.

"As the one who made their hero fall."

Lena stepped forward, calmly.

"You want to be remembered?"

She raised her fist again.

"Then I’ll make sure you’re remembered as the first I broke after waking up."

Their fists collided once more—this time, the floor cracked beneath their feet.

The storm had just begun.