Chapter 10: Three Days Till Impact (2)

Inside the school cafeteria, the noise was constant — the buzz of chatter, the clatter of trays, the scrape of chairs, the dull hum of everyday student life. It was a place of routine — where students laughed too loudly, gossiped too freely, and ate food that never quite tasted like home. Voices rose and fell like an unpredictable tide, all blending into a chaos that somehow made sense.

And in the midst of it all, near the edge of the room, sat an odd pair.

On one side of the table was a boy with the kind of presence that barely existed — quiet, unassuming, and forgettable in every possible way. If you looked at him twice, you'd forget him three times. The kind of guy even the universe might overlook.

On the other side… sat someone who couldn't be ignored.

He carried himself with a calm, cold, noble air — the kind that made heads turn without realizing why. Not flashy. Not loud. Just there. Like the background music in a horror film before something goes wrong.

And yet, for all their differences, the two had something in common.

They didn't belong here.

Yes, you guessed it. The infamous "info-dumping mob" and yours truly — Edward.

I leaned back in my seat, sipping casually from my drink, letting the boy sweat a little under the weight of silence.

"So," I began, tone light, "what about his combat abilities? How good is he?"

The boy scratched the back of his neck, visibly nervous now. "W-Well, it's kind of surprising that you don't already know—haha…"

I raised an eyebrow.

He shut up instantly.

Clearing his throat, he straightened his back like he was on trial."Right. So, uh, Leon's strong. Like, really strong. He's sharp, good at reading people, stays calm in pressure situations. Already at E-rank, which is pretty rare for a first-year. Only six others are there so far."

I didn't react. Just a nod. Enough to keep him talking.

"He's known for his performance in practice duels. People challenge him all the time — jealousy, status, pride, whatever. And... he wins. A lot."

I nodded again, signaling him to move past the melodrama.

"He's primarily a sword user. And he's damn good at it. Fast, precise, controlled. I'd say he's already at intermediate-level swordsmanship, if not higher."

Ah, there it is — the classic overpowered protagonist checklist.

Check. Check. Triple check.

"And his father?" I asked, letting my tone drop half an octave.

"Oh, uh, he serves the Mooncrest household. He's the personal secretary to Selene's father. That's actually how Leon and Selene got close—"

"Stop," I interrupted, cutting him off. "I'm not interested in the childhood bestie clichés or whatever third-rate drama you're about to narrate."

He blinked. "Well… most people think it's kind of a big deal how they got close—"

"Good for them," I muttered dismissively, not in the mood for any more of that.

"Anything else actually useful?" I asked, hoping to get back to the point.

He practically lit up at the opportunity. "Oh, right! There's his performance during the dungeon break. It's all anyone's talking about. I guess you already know, though, since the Headmaster made an announcement about it."

I shook my head. "Wasn't really paying attention."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Huh. Well, okay, then. Let me fill you in."

"During the outbreak, Leon helped evacuate civilians. A group of Tier-5 beasts attacked, total chaos. He fought alongside others to defend the civilians, kept his cool under pressure, and held the line."

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice like it was top-secret information. "But then more beasts arrived. Stronger ones. Just when it seemed hopeless… he unlocked something. Some insane power-up. No one saw it coming. It was… shocking. Almost too convenient, honestly."

I stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "You saying he staged a dramatic reveal?"

"Not exactly," he said quickly. "Just… you know how these things go. Sudden awakening. Perfect timing. Suspiciously convenient."

Yep. Another classic hero move. The right power, at the right time, in front of the right audience.

"Ooo, and there's also that story about when he and Selene went shopping—"

"Okay," I cut him off, sharp this time. "That's enough."

He quieted.

"I appreciate the info," I said flatly. No thanks. No smile. No small talk. That wasn't my style.

I stood, letting the noise of the cafeteria roll off me. My mind had already moved on.

Now, what was next? I didn't want to dwell on Leon's heroics for too long. It wasn't like I had any vested interest in him.

But I did have something I needed to do.

"Let's head back to my room."

---

Silence.

That was what greeted me when I returned. The kind of quiet that doesn't comfort you — just gives space for your thoughts to creep back in, uninvited.

I changed out of my uniform, threw on my training gear, and reached for the one thing that made sense in all this chaos — my sword.

Training grounds. That was my next stop.

---

Now, you might be wondering

Why the hell am I taking this fight so seriously?

Even if I lose, what's the big deal?

It's not like someone's forcing me to play the role, right?

Can't I just sit back, relax, and watch the story unfold from the sidelines?

So, what motivates me?

The answer's simple — I don't have anything better to do.

That's all there is to it.

No grand motive like "If I don't play my role right, it'll ruin the protagonist's development." I don't care about that crap. And I sure as hell don't know anything about the fate of the world.

It's just… if I don't keep myself busy, my mind starts to wander.

Back to Earth. Back to the memories I've been trying — and failing — to forget.

And deep down, I know I never really will.

Sometimes, the mind replays what the heart refuses to delete.

Those memories… they warm you from the inside — then tear you apart from the same place.

I lived a life full of regrets back on Earth. And with Edward's memories stacked on top of that? It's not exactly an upgrade.

Even if his emotions don't bleed into mine the way they used to… they're still there. Lingering. Just enough to remind me I'm never truly free of either life.

So I keep moving. I keep doing things.

Because sometimes, you don't need a reason — you just need a distraction.

Something to keep the past from dragging you under.

...Alright. Enough of this depressing monologue.

Time to train.

----

I opened my closet. My sword lay there, half-buried under a pile of clothes, forgotten and neglected.

Carefully, I reached in and pulled it out, trying not to let the clothes spill over. I held the scabbard in my hand, feeling its weight, letting the familiar grip settle in my palm. Then, slowly, I unsheathed it.

A silver blade gleamed in the dim room, catching what little light there was.

I ran my fingers carefully along the edge — Still sharp. Still dependable.

I slid it back into its scabbard and strapped it around my waist.

Time to get moving.

With that, I left my room and made my way toward the academy's training grounds — specifically, the area reserved for the first-year batch.

----

The training grounds were in full swing when I arrived. The sound of weapons clashing, the grunts of students pushing themselves to the limit, and the smell of sweat and determination in the air. Spears cracked against wooden dummies, knives spun through the air, and someone let out a frustrated yell after being knocked down.

I found a quiet spot near the edge of the grounds — just far enough to be away from the noise, but close enough to feel the heat of the atmosphere.

I stretched. Arms rotating, spine loosening, legs bracing for the inevitable challenge.

I could feel the blood starting to flow, my muscles awakening. The familiar ache was there, the kind that said, "You're alive. Now move."

I reached for my sword.

I drew it slowly. Deliberately.

The blade gleamed faintly under the afternoon sun — silver, unassuming, but solid. Reliable.

I tightened my grip.

First swing — off balance. The edge cut air, but my footing was wrong. Too much tension. Not enough flow.

Again.

Second swing — better. Still not right.

I kept going. Slash. Step. Turn. Strike. Again. And again.

It wasn't clean. It wasn't elegant.

This wasn't Edward's swordsmanship. This was me — trying to mimic something I never owned.

A memory borrowed, not earned.

My body remembers what my mind refuses.

My mind remembers what my soul tries to bury.

Still, I swung.

Each motion chipped away at the noise. The doubt. The memories.

Until it was just me.

Me and the blade.

Breathing in rhythm. Heart pacing with movement.

I'm not perfect.

Never was.

But that's okay.

I don't need to be perfect.

I don't need a goal. Or glory. Or meaning.

I just need to keep moving — because stillness is when the past catches up.

"Know your enemy and know yourself, and you will never fear the outcome of a hundred battles."

I know my enemy.

He's strong.

Now it's time I learn the harder part—

Knowing myself.

---

Author's Note:

Hey there, reader!

How are you enjoying the story so far? We're ten chapters in, and the plot's starting to pick up — just as I planned. If you've been with Edward's journey from the start, thank you! And if you're new, welcome aboard!

If you're enjoying the world, the characters, or just vibing with the narrative, let me know in the comments. Your thoughts, feedback, and even wild theories are what keep me motivated to write more.

So don't be shy — drop a comment! I read every single one.

Until next time, — Author of Just Another Side Villain.