The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character
Chapter 119: Protagonist Always Arrives Late [5]

Chapter 119: Protagonist Always Arrives Late [5]

My vision was still swimming, blood sticky against my cheek, and every breath burned like fire in my ribs. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the fight in front of me.

Lena was holding her ground. Barely.

Ethan’s attacks were relentless—his monsters swarming like waves, each step leaving a trail of venom that hissed and sizzled across the floor. And yet, Lena stood firm, moving like a wall of wind. Unshaken. Unyielding. Her fists struck with precision, her footwork weaving between death.

She was winning.

Until he appeared.

A ripple of something vile twisted through the air—an oppressive weight that made even Ethan’s own monsters recoil.

Then it began.

The broken, twitching corpses of Ethan’s fallen insects started to melt. Not just disintegrate—but merge.

No... devour each other.

A low, wet crunch echoed across the room. It was the kind of sound that didn’t belong in any world. Like bones being forced back together in the wrong way. And then—I saw it.

Crawling out from behind Ethan’s cloak, thick and glistening and black like a pool of tar given form.

"Nirhal," Ethan whispered, voice hoarse and trembling with something close to reverence. "Eat, and remind them why poison is the most honest truth in this world."

The thing that rose was huge—easily twice the size of any creature I’d seen him summon before.

It pulsed with life. Its armored shell looked like molten obsidian veined with green light. Venom sacs bubbled along its back, constantly swelling and popping like blistered skin. Every step it took burned through stone, its limbs clicking and scraping like twisted blades.

Lena tensed. Her stance shifted just slightly. She could feel it too.

This wasn’t just another monster.

This... was something else.

"What’s wrong, Lena?" Ethan sneered. "Don’t tell me you’re scared?"

His voice dripped with mockery, but his eyes were wide—alive. He was loving every second of this.

"You see, Nirhal was supposed to be a secret. A little surprise I was saving for later. He’s not even complete yet." He laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "But you forced my hand."

He raised both arms, theatrically. "Look at him! Look at what your precious justice brought out!"

Yeah. He wasn’t wrong.

Nirhal was his trump card.

In the original novel, Ethan had used Nirhal against Ryen—and it didn’t end well.

Sure, Ryen defeated Ethan. He even managed to save Nora Hayes, his childhood friend. But she wasn’t alone that day. There were other students with her.

And Ryen couldn’t save most of them.

They died.

Screaming.

And even though he won, Ryen was poisoned. Of course, he later recover but Ryen didn’t know that poison coud this deadly.

After all, it had taken an entire week him to recover.

That was Ethan. Just a side villain in the story, and yet he left a scar so deep it shifted the entire arc.

And now... now that creature, Nirhal, was standing in front of Lena. Right now. In real time.

And I couldn’t help but feel the weight of it.

A knot of fear twisted in my chest.

Not for me.

But for the people Lena had sworn to protect.

"It’ll take time," Ethan muttered, eyes gleaming. "But I don’t have that luxury. So instead—I’ll detonate Nirhal."

"What...?" Lena’s voice was quiet at first, confused. But then, she understood.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" Ethan smiled coldly. "Do you have any idea how many people in this room would survive the poison Nirhal will release when it explodes?"

He gestured toward the hulking insect beast, now bloated and pulsing with unstable energy. Steam hissed from its carapace, and its venom sacs twitched like they were ready to burst.

Lena’s expression finally cracked.

A flicker of alarm.

She had held firm the entire time. Even when she was losing ground, even when the tide seemed to turn. But now—

Now she was afraid.

Not for herself.

But for everyone else in this room.

She clenched her fists, the aura around her flaring slightly, unstable, as if she were trying to calculate the limits of her protective field.

She couldn’t cover them all.

She wasn’t built for this.

"I finally see it," Ethan said, voice smooth, almost gleeful. "That look of despair. That helplessness. It suits you more than that ridiculous confidence you always wear."

Lena didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked to the unconscious students. To Rin, still kneeling, barely able to move. Her jaw tightened.

"You know," Ethan continued, stepping slowly to the side, "I never had anything personal against you. In fact, I always thought you were... admirable. Strong. Composed. All those things I despise."

His smile twisted.

"But you were too persistent. Too righteous. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve had a proper farewell class with my students. A beautiful, poetic performance. They would’ve remembered it forever."

He looked up at Nirhal.

"To think I have to end it like this. Sloppy. Rushed."

He sighed. "Still... a finale’s a finale."

Nirhal let out a screech, its body expanding. The room grew hotter—sickly and humid. The scent of venom was suffocating. The floor beneath the beast was already melting.

And then Ethan spoke one last time, almost softly.

"Let’s see what your heroism is really worth... when time runs out."

Ethan’s voice echoed across the room like a curse. The air grew colder, heavier—oppressive.

The class went dead silent. Not a breath, not a whisper. Just the trembling of limbs, the quiet stifled sobs, the sharp intakes of panicked breaths.

Some students squeezed their eyes shut, lips moving in silent prayers. Others stared blankly at the beast that loomed over them, their minds already flashing back through their short lives.

And at the center of it all stood Lena—shoulders tight, sweat trickling down her jaw, eyes locked on the monster Ethan had conjured.

Nirhal.

It didn’t move like a monster. It breathed like a bomb.

Its swollen, pulsing body radiated unstable energy. Its shell glistened with a dangerous sheen of concentrated venom, and deep in its core, something glowed—a warning sign of imminent self-detonation.

If she attacked... it would explode. Instantly.

And with the amount of poison packed inside it, not even ash would remain.

Lena’s hands trembled slightly. Not from fear—but from frustration.

If she moved, people died.

If she stayed still, people still died.

’What do I do? Her mind raced. Think, Lena, think.’

She clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white. There had to be a way. A path forward. Anything.

But Ethan’s smirk only widened, feeding off her helplessness.

"Go ahead," he taunted. "Make a move, hero. Let’s see how many you take down with you when you do."

And then—

A voice cut through the tension.

Unshaken. Cold. Fierce.

"Bullshit."

Everyone turned. Eyes widened.

A figure slowly stood, dragging himself up from the blood-slicked floor.

It was Rin.

His body trembled, knees weak, but his eyes... burned.

He stared straight at Ethan, not with fear, but with pure, unfiltered contempt.

"Bullshit," he repeated, spitting the word like poison. "You think you’re inevitable. You think if we live, we’ll only suffer more? That it’s better to die now than to try?"

Rin took a shaky breath. His shirt was torn, one side of his face stained red, but he kept going.