The Protagonist Who Never Regressed (2)
Leon hadn't regressed.
Wait, Leon hadn't regressed?
Lay low, graduate, coast through life in peace—every single plan I had mapped out just went up in smoke. No, calling it a minor setback didn't begin to cover it. This was a matter of basic survival, of whether this world would even exist to see tomorrow.
As I mentioned before, the original timeline—the first life before Leon regressed—ended in absolute ruin. Overcoming that apocalyptic nightmare was entirely the achievement of the second-life Leon who knew what was coming. But what if the only person in the entire world who knew the Azure Heaven Cult was going to tear reality apart was me?
Who the hell was supposed to save this world then?
The headmaster? The Sword Saint? The other academy prodigies? Or me, someone who couldn't even tell what had changed after possessing this body?
The moment a crack formed in the fabric of the world, it would be over. The fanatics of the Azure Heaven Cult were raving lunatics who didn't give a damn about their own survival. My chest tightened until I could barely drag air into my lungs. Everett stood in front of me, her lips moving as she shrilly rattled off complaints, but none of it registered. What did any of it matter when everything was destined to be wiped off the map?
"No... not yet. Nothing's set in stone yet..."
I muttered under my breath, desperately clutching at denial. That was right. Nothing was confirmed. Maybe things were just deviating a tiny fraction from the original novel. Murmuring that feeble consolation like a mantra, I spun on my heel toward the dormitory. Distant squawking—presumably Everett throwing another fit—echoed behind me, but I tuned it out and kept walking, praying with every fiber of my being that my worst fears were wrong.
About a week had passed since my doubts about Leon first sprouted.
During that time, I kept a close eye on him, ignoring whatever nonsense Everett spewed and brushing off the fiery glares from the red-haired girl flanking her. But contrary to my desperate hopes, cold reality continued to march in with brutal indifference.
It wasn't that Leon was delinquent or ditching class. He was simply living a life completely unrecognizable from the protagonist I knew. To put it bluntly... he spent every waking second goofing off. I wasn't exaggerating; every minute of every day, he was surrounded by girls. Three days ago it had been two, and now the flock had grown to three. On top of that, he never set foot in the training grounds. He was thoroughly, unabashedly basking in the carefree joys of academy youth—living the dream while my stomach churned itself into ulcers.
As for myself, I hadn't made the slightest progress since that first day. Sitting in lectures, I still couldn't sense a shred of the supernatural energy they called mana or qi. It was an utter disaster. Not a single thing was going the way it was supposed to.
Still, today would put an end to the uncertainty. Today was the first practical sparring session for the second-years, and it would definitively answer whether Leon had regressed or not.
In the original novel, the regressed Leon deliberately skipped the very first sparring class. Instead of fighting, he slipped out into the city to secure a one-of-a-kind artifact from an underground black market auction that only appeared on this exact date. Therefore, if Leon truly possessed his memories of the second life, he shouldn't be anywhere near the sparring grounds today.
Plus, today might finally awaken whatever strength was dormant in this body. Getting thrown into actual combat usually kicked on muscle memory or innate instincts, right? I tried my hardest to keep looking on the bright side. Everything eating away at my nerves was technically just speculation. Surely it was nothing more than paranoid delusions born of stress.
Clinging to that frail hope, I sat through Professor Maria's lecture until the bell chimed.
"All right, everyone! That wraps up today's class!"
Maria beamed warmly, clapping her hands together. "Today marks your very first practical sparring session as second-years, doesn't it? Please do your very best, and remember to keep each other safe!"
With her gentle dismissal, the class cleared out, though several students lingered in the hall. Naturally, my gaze drifted straight toward Leon's circle. He was wearing that characteristically goofy, blissfully dense grin of his, laughing and chatting with the girls clustered around his desk.
A throbbing headache pulsed behind my temples. Sick of watching the spectacle, I grabbed my notes and headed toward the dorms, silently chanting a desperate plea that he would somehow vanish before the afternoon.
When afternoon arrived after lunch, most of the second-year class had gathered in the massive indoor sparring hall.
For the record, I had arrived thirty full minutes early just to stake out the entrance, praying with sweaty palms that Leon wouldn't show up. Five minutes remained until the session began, and there was still no sign of him.
"Whew..."
A heavy sigh slipped past my lips. Right. It had to have been pointless fretting all along. Logically speaking, if a cosmic force transmigrated someone into a novel, why would it drop them into the failed first timeline instead of the real story? That made zero sense. In fact, that simply couldn't happen.
I buried my face between my knees, muttering silent prayers. Four minutes. Three minutes. The clock ticked steadily downward, and at long last, the official start time struck.
"Fall in, everyone! Line up!"
A woman with dark skin and ash-gray hair marched into the arena entrance. Her name was Zaphia, the combat instructor assigned to practical sparring. In the grand scheme of the novel, the sparring instructor didn't have much of an active role—she was essentially an in-universe reaction dispenser meant to hype up the protagonist with lines like, 'That kid... was he always that strong?'
Her arrival meant the lesson was officially starting. Yet Leon was still nowhere to be seen.
"Heh."
A breathless chuckle escaped me. Had I really just worked myself into a frenzy over nothing? Of course. Dropping into an alien world and trying to adjust had just fried my nerves, making me jump at shadows.
Meanwhile, Instructor Zaphia barked out instructions at the assembled ranks with booming authority.
"You lot aren't fragile first-years working on fundamentals anymore! Fight like you mean it! I don't care if you snap an arm, crack a leg, or get your teeth knocked down your throat—the medical bay will patch you up good as new! If an attack looks lethal enough to kill you, I'll step in and swat it down, so don't you dare hold back out of cowardice!"
Zaphia laid out the brutal ground rules. Through it all, the entrance remained completely empty.
Yes. I had overreacted. Since the novel was written entirely from the protagonist's point of view, he could easily have glossed over his casual downtime. Besides, history's greatest heroes were often notorious lechers surrounded by admirers. That was all it was. The Leon standing in this world was undoubtedly the regressed Leon from the second life, without a shadow of a—
"W-Wait! Hold on a second!"
A frantic voice cut across Zaphia's booming speech. A split second later, a brown-haired blur came barreling through the arena doors.
"Haa, haa..."
It was Leon. And he was jogging in hand-in-hand with Everett.
"I-I'm so sorry, Instructor! Something came up..."
Zaphia glared at the panting boy with unadulterated disdain. "Something came up, my ass. Looks to me like you two were busy rolling around in the dirt."
Tsking loudly at the shameless youth, she waved an irritated hand. "...It's the first day, so I'll let it slide once. Get in ranks. Now."
The tardy duo scrambled into the formation. And as fate would have it, they slotted in right beside me.
Leon caught his breath next to me, while Everett shot daggers in my direction with a possessive sneer, completely oblivious to the utter catastrophe unfolding inside my mind.
"..."
Ha.
I'm so fucking dead.
The very nightmare I had desperately tried to deny had slapped me squarely across the face.
It was official.
The boy catching his breath beside me was not the legendary protagonist of Regression Dunce. He was nothing more than 'Helpless Academy Extra #1,' destined to be slaughtered when the apocalypse hit.
BOOM! CRACK!
Before my hollow, soulless eyes, a dazzling display of supernatural combat erupted across the raised ring. It was a spectacle that put any high-budget blockbuster's visual effects to shame. Shockwaves rattled the bleachers, and blinding arcs of magical light illuminated the stone ceiling.
"Look at all those flashy fireworks, for fuck's sake..."
As impressive as the duel was, none of it registered. What in the world was I supposed to do now? Should I secretly leak intel about the Azure Heaven Cult to someone? But to whom? And even if I offered up everything I knew, would anyone take the raving prophecies of an unranked delinquent seriously? To survive blowing the whistle on a suicidal doomsday cult, you needed enough personal martial might to protect your own neck. And right now, I didn't have a single drop of power.
While my mind spiraled through catastrophic scenario after catastrophic scenario, a loud shout shattered my thoughts.
"Seventh match: Jeonghye and Bella! Step up!"
My turn had come.
"...Whew."
Hearing Zaphia call my name, I hauled myself to my feet. Walking up the stone steps felt like a condemned prisoner marching toward the gallows. Standing on the far side of the ring was Bella, waiting patiently.
"Let's have a good match."
"...Sure."
Bella was one of the two girls who had been eating lunch with Leon and Everett. With fiery crimson hair, sharp ruby eyes, and a massive greatsword larger than her entire torso hoisted casually in one hand, she exuded raw martial presence. If my memory served me right, she was one of the top combatants in our year thanks to her peculiar heritage—she carried dragon blood.
"All right, assume combat stances!" Zaphia bellowed from the ring's perimeter.
Snapping back to reality, I squared my shoulders against Bella, only to find her staring back with an expression of thinly veiled distaste. Before the referee could count down, Bella parted her lips.
"I don't go out of my way to confront people like Everett does," she said coolly. "But that doesn't mean I approve of the way you've been acting around Leon. ...So I won't be holding back."
How many times was I going to be subjected to this ridiculous misunderstanding? At this rate, should I just start leaning into it for kicks? But Instructor Zaphia couldn't care less about the petty adolescent drama unfolding in the ring.
"Ready! On three!"
One! Two...
Three!
FWEET!
The shrill whistle clamped between Zaphia's teeth pierced the air. In that exact fraction of a second, the stone floor beneath Bella's boots detonated with a thunderous CRACK, and her frame blurred into a streak of crimson.
Holy shit, that's not human speed—she's moving like a damn rocket—
KABOOM!
A deafening impact roared through my skull, the world plunged into pitch-black void, and my consciousness shattered like brittle glass.
That was the last thing I remembered.