The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

Chapter 343 343: Brainwashed [6]

Lena closed her eyes.

She didn't want to see him crushed beneath her fist.

For a split second, she almost convinced herself that this was mercy.

The moment her knuckles struck something solid, her entire body tilted sideways.

"Huh—?"

The sound barely left her lips before the ground rushed up to meet her.

She hadn't been pushed with brute force. It was worse than that.

She had been redirected.

Before she could even process what had happened, her body dropped, balance stolen from her center like it had never been hers to begin with.

Then came the kick.

It was clumsy.

Unsteady.

Imperfect.

But it was unmistakable.

Lena's eyes widened.

No… that stance—

Even as she was falling, she recognized it. The foot placement. The slight twist of the hip. The delayed pivot that sacrificed speed for stability.

There was no way she could forget it.

She had drilled that movement into him herself.

"Proper stance first," she used to scold. "Speed means nothing if you lose balance. Again."

He had complained. Sulked. Tried to cut corners.

And she had made him repeat it until his legs trembled.

The kick that once looked like a flailing mess now struck cleanly against her jaw.

Crack.

A sharp jolt rattled her skull. Her vision flashed white. The world rang.

It hurt.

The pain felt… deserved.

As she lay there, dazed, watching that kick complete its arc with far more control than it once had, memories flickered in and out like broken frames of film.

She had forgotten.

Or perhaps she had forced herself to forget.

Slowly, Lena pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at the figure in front of her again.

At first, it had been nothing but a black blur.

Then it seemed like a small child.

Then like some crouching animal.

But now—

Now it was taking shape.

A human silhouette stood in the darkness.

Not fully grown.

Not a child anymore either.

And definitely not a formless blob.

Within that flickering black outline, something glowed.

Red.

A faint, pulsing red light, like an ember buried beneath ash.

Lena's breath caught.

The red glow pulsed once, as if responding.

Something inside her chest twisted painfully.

She felt it.

If she could just touch it—

If she could just reach out and grab that red light—

She would remember everything.

Not just fragments.

Not just the surface.

Everything.

For the first time since this fight began, Lena straightened her back and set her feet properly on the ground.

A real stance.

Her stance.

She inhaled slowly, letting the dizziness settle into something manageable.

Her jaw throbbed.

Her vision still swam slightly.

But it wasn't enough to stop her.

---

Rin POV

"Ugh…!?"

The moment that sound tore from Lena's throat, I thought I had it.

I had taken Professor Lena's charge head-on, forced myself not to flinch, and driven my heel straight into her jaw. I felt the impact travel up my leg—solid, clean.

It was good.

It was working.

Up until that point.

Her head snapped to the side, strands of her dark hair whipping across her face. For a split second, she stood there, unmoving.

Then something changed.

The wild, mindless flailing I had been dealing with—those brutal but sloppy swings—vanished. The chaotic pressure that had filled the room shifted into something colder.

Sharper.

Her shoulders lowered.

Her stance tightened.

The black stain in her eyes didn't disappear, but focus returned behind it.

And that terrified me more than anything.

"…You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath.

A kick came flying at me.

Not just any kick.

The kick.

The one she always used during training. The one she'd drilled into us a thousand times. The one I had clumsily tried to copy just moments ago, earning myself a bruised thigh for my trouble.

But hers?

Perfect.

No wasted motion. No hesitation. Her hips rotated cleanly, her balance centered, power traveling from the ground up.

There was no blocking that.

If I tried to guard it, I'd lose an arm.

If I mistimed it, I'd lose a leg.

"Damn it!"

I threw myself sideways, barely clearing the arc of her strike. The air cracked where I had been standing. The shockwave alone scraped across my ribs like sandpaper.

I hit the ground hard and rolled.

The floor splintered where her heel landed.

"She's getting sharper," I gasped.

Not stronger.

Sharper.

Every second, the rough edges of her movements smoothed out. The awkward pauses between attacks disappeared. The chaotic rhythm that had made her readable was gone.

Now there was intent.

Clear, calculated intent.

She stepped forward.

I scrambled back to my feet.

The gaps I'd been exploiting before—the exposed flank, the delayed follow-up, the imbalance after a heavy strike—they were disappearing.

No.

They were being corrected.

Her body remembered.

Even if her mind was swallowed in whatever darkness had taken her, her body remembered how to fight.

Her blackened eyes locked onto me.

Not Ryan.

Not Leo.

Me.

"Okay… let's do this."

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady the tremor in my fingers.

Then I poured primal qi into my talent.

Not a cautious amount. Not the safe amount they teach at the academy.

Enough to kill an ordinary person.

The energy flooded through my meridians like a raging current. My veins burned. My heartbeat roared in my ears. But it still wasn't enough.

"…Not yet."

I clenched my teeth and forced more qi into it.

A little more.

Don't underestimate me.

I wasn't the same person I used to be. Not after everything I'd gone through. Not after the fortuitous encounters I had consumed. Every near-death experience, every inheritance, every reckless gamble—they had all strengthened my core beyond what most people could imagine.

If there was one thing I was confident in, it was the sheer volume of primal qi I possessed.

Something surged from deep within my body.

It wasn't just power.

It felt alive.

Across from me, Lena tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. She must have sensed it too.

Lena shifted her feet and took her stance. The air around her seemed to grow heavy. The ground beneath us felt like it had tightened, as if the space itself acknowledged her readiness.

The moment she moved, everything sharpened.

Her straight punch shot toward me—clean, precise, no wasted motion.

Fast.

But to me, it felt slower than before.

I twisted my body and dodged. The wind from her fist brushed past my cheek, close enough to sting.

I leaped forward instead of retreating.