The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 35: Peaceful Time

In every novel I've ever read, there's always that moment for the protagonist.

They grind. They grow stronger. They reach new heights.

And then—bam.

They hit a wall.

Not a physical wall, but one that's way worse. A soul-crushing, energy-draining wall that just won't move, no matter what.

They're more powerful than ever, but instead of celebrating, they're stuck in this weird headspace. Frustration. Emptiness. Even loneliness.

Back then, when I was just a reader, I didn't get it.

"You've come so far. Isn't this what you wanted?" I used to think. "Just push through. Keep going."

It seemed simple.

But that was then.

Now?

Now I understand.

Because I've finally reached that point myself.

And it's exactly as hollow and disorienting as the books described.

I've clawed my way up from the bottom, from barely functioning to... well, a little better than barely functioning.

And yet, I don't feel accomplished. Just tired. Weirdly nostalgic, too—thinking back to when I was a fragile wreck.

That version of me couldn't even sit up without rehab.

Now?

I'm stronger.

From pathetic... to slightly less pathetic.

But I'm not stopping here. Not even close.

Dreams don't end when you reach them—they shift, stretch, and become something bigger.

Which brings me to my next target:

Fifteen kilos.

Yeah. You heard right.

After finally conquering those 5kg and 10kg dumbbells—my mortal enemies—I've set my sights on the next beast.

A real monster.

One that still laughs at me every time I try to lift it.

It's been a week since I started this absurd journey toward fitness.

In that time, I went from someone who needed assistance rolling over to someone who could take on a goblin... maybe.

A miracle, really.

But I didn't just lift weights. I did the full routine—treadmill, squats, planks. The works.

Laying the foundation, brick by painful brick.

And still, I'm barely scraping the starting line compared to the others in this world.

By day four, I was so wrecked I had to use magic—not on my muscles or recovery rate—but on my willpower.

Yeah.

Willpower enhancement.

That's how broken I was.

But I kept going.

Sore, shaky, and discovering new muscles to hate every day.

The only reason I managed to survive this far is because of my cheat.

My talent.

Honestly? It's absurd. A power that shouldn't even exist.

If it didn't come with penalties, it'd be completely overpowered. Like, divine-tier broken.

And even with the penalties, it's still kind of insane.

In this there is isn't replica of my talent and even there is it mostly enhanced physical strength slightly.

But mine can do more then just enhancing physical strength, etc... it can even enhances my willpower.

That's right.

[Enchantment].

A talent so busted it can push even your mind beyond its limits.

It's why I can do things like this—

"Nine hundred thousand and ninety-eight!"

Okay, let's be real: that number's just for show.

I'm not some muscle god. My body's still weak.

But I've got time.

If I pour everything into this, maybe—just maybe—I can get my physical abilities to a decent level. Something closer to the standard of a low-tier superhuman.

Or at least not embarrassingly weak.

...And then it hit me.

That dangerous, overly optimistic thought.

"I have plenty of time."

Because when a transmigrator starts thinking that... it's usually the beginning of the end.

[9 days until the main quest begins.]

Of course.

That damned voice echoed in my head like a punchline to my internal monologue.

Nope.

This world wasn't about to let me train in peace.

At least I still had nine days left.

Not a lot, but better than nothing.

Positivity—that's what mattered in moments like this.

"But the semester doesn't even start for a while..."

I muttered to myself, already getting the sinking feeling that those peaceful "training arcs" everyone dreams of weren't in the cards for me.

Yeah, things were too peaceful right now.

In the novel, after the terrorist attack during the entrance ceremony, nothing major happened for a while. Just a few lighthearted episodes following Ryen and Leo Taylor's day-to-day life.

But...

There was one significant event that took place right after the attack.

You see, in the novel, several students lost their lives during the chaos at the entrance ceremony. And, naturally, not all the parents took that lightly.

One of them in particular wasn't pleased that his son had died due to the academy's security failure.

He knew the villains had somehow managed to bypass the academy's defense system—but since the cause was never fully uncovered, the blame fell entirely on Velcrest Academy and its chairman.

That parent?

He wasn't just any grieving father.

He was filthy rich. A major donor. The kind of guy who had supplied the academy with state-of-the-art gear, weapons, and generous funding.

And he used that influence. His money. His connections. All of it—to bring down pressure like a hammer on the academy.

"...Wait a sec."

Wasn't that my father?

Well, not my father. Rin Evans father, to be exact.

But that raised a big question.

I had survived the attack. Twisted the plot. I wasn't dead—so why would he be causing a scene?

Was I wrong to assume that incident wouldn't happen anymore?

Or... was a completely different event about to unfold?

Even with everything I knew about the original story, this was uncharted territory.

Hmm...

"Nine hundred thousand and ninety-nine!"

Either way, I couldn't afford to waste brainpower worrying about it.

Classic transmigrator motto: if overthinking doesn't help, focus on what you can do.

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

And right now, that meant finishing my push-ups.