I Became the Must-Have Character of the Academy City

[Name: Rohan]
[Health: 82%]
[Mana: 66%]
[Affiliation: Echoes of the Southern Ruins (殘鄕)]
[Organization: Orion Academy]
[Attributes: Physical, Fire]
[Status: Bleeding]
[Remaining Points: 273P]

Rohan’s status window proved invaluable.

It provided a stark reminder that he still skirted death rather than embraced it. It also displayed the negative physical conditions affecting his body in real time.

"The bleeding isn’t severe."

His mind was sharp, clear. His body remained warm, maintaining its temperature.

It wasn’t dire enough to necessitate hastily stopping the flow or performing some extreme method of hemostasis.

Given his focus and the adrenaline coursing through him from the earlier skirmishes, now was the ideal time to confront the leader.

"Let’s get this over with."

Rohan tightened his grip on the crowbar and pistol.

The knife he had favored for a short time was no longer usable—it had broken during the fight in the factory.

It had met its end as expected of a cheap blade, unable to withstand the force of stabbing and twisting. The handle had shattered, leaving the blade buried in one of his opponent’s stomachs.

Following the scent of paint carried by the wind, Rohan soon arrived at his destination.

Screech! Screech!

A man with a shaved head, wearing a plastic mask, sprayed paint across a factory wall.

He stood around 190 centimeters tall, appearing even bulkier due to his thick jacket.

His neck was unnaturally thick, reminiscent of a quadrupedal animal.@@novelbin@@

"Ku Shadley."

Rohan’s memory confirmed the name.

Seeing him up close stirred vivid recollections from the past.

Their conversation was brief.

"Today feels especially good. On days like this, you can’t just stop in the middle of a masterpiece."

"I see."

Without hesitation, Rohan pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The muzzle flashed, spitting fire.

The bullet, aimed squarely at Shadley’s head, struck true—his head snapped back and then returned to position.

"That hurts. Why are you doing this?"

"..."

The bullet, failing to penetrate, clattered to the ground with a hollow metallic sound.

A visible red scrape marred Shadley’s forehead.

"Even firing repeatedly wouldn’t do much."

Realizing the pistol was best relegated to a distraction, Rohan considered discarding it entirely if it became cumbersome.

"Tell me. Why are you doing this?"

"You’ve spent your whole life leeching off others, and now you’re curious why you’re about to die? Does that even make sense?"

Rohan’s transparent display of disdain only seemed to amuse Shadley.

The tension in his brass-knuckled fists visibly increased.

"This is just like Hoken. He sent you, didn’t he? He’s always had an inferiority complex about my art. It’s obvious."

"Sigh..."

"Ah, poor, pathetic Hoken. Every time he realized he lacked talent, he must have both envied and hated me."

As Shadley’s rambling self-questioning turned into outright excitement, Rohan aimed his pistol again.

Knowing that ordinary shots were ineffective, he focused on targeting Shadley’s eyes.

Bang!

As if reading his intent, Shadley dodged the shot with uncanny precision.

A self-satisfied smirk spread across his face.

"Your reaction confirms it. Hoken sent you, right?"

"Shut your mouth. I don’t mind chatty women, but I can’t stand talkative men."

"You... your words and actions don’t match that baby face of yours. It’s amusing."

Crack. Crack.

Rolling his neck, Shadley closed the distance between them in a few confident strides.

"..."

As soon as Shadley stepped within striking range, Rohan swung the crowbar.

At the same time, Shadley’s brass-knuckled fist lashed out.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Crack!

Under the night sky, sparks and metallic echoes filled the air.

Dodging the punches, Rohan felt the difference in strength compared to the Yard-Pound brothers.

Each strike from Shadley’s fists split shallow wounds open purely from the impact.

And his punches were short, efficient, and well-practiced. He clearly knew what he was doing.

"He’s stronger than me physically, but... that’s manageable."

Feeling the crowbar bounce against the brass knuckles, the vibration stinging his palms, Rohan shifted his pistol to aim at Shadley’s groin and pulled the trigger.

"!"

The sudden icy sensation made Shadley twist his body instinctively.

Bang! Bang!

The bullets grazed his thigh, drawing blood but not stopping him.

Without giving Shadley a moment to recover, Rohan swung the crowbar down in a hammering motion.

Shadley took a step back, sneering as he avoided the strike aimed at his head.

"Let’s at least maintain some decorum. Your methods are so crude."

"Funny, coming from a lunatic artist afraid of getting his balls smashed."

Rohan smirked, his lips curling.

Shadley ran his hand over his bristly scalp, trying to regain his composure.

"I doubt your art has any flair."

"I’m not interested in art."

"So cold. You’re an annoying brat through and through."

Shadley’s suspicions solidified through their brief exchange.

"Looking young must just be a disguise, right? Creepy bastard."

Anything else didn’t make sense. He couldn’t accept it.

To Shadley, Rohan’s movements weren’t refined enough to indicate professional training.

Instead, they were the result of countless encounters with bloodshed, creating a simplicity that was deeply unsettling.

"I need to end this quickly."

The drug he had preemptively injected was coursing through his veins, enhancing his physical abilities.

Despite his advantage, he couldn’t find an opening to land a decisive blow. His punches were evaded like a mouse darting through a maze.

"If this drags on until the drug wears off..."

Shadley’s focus wavered momentarily.

Sensing the shift, Rohan seized the opportunity and lunged forward.

Crunch!

The crowbar embedded itself into Shadley’s forearm as he desperately raised it to block.

"Tsk!"

Shadley caught a glimpse of Rohan’s pistol shifting fluidly into position.

With a surge of magical energy, Shadley lashed out with a punch.

The brass-knuckled blow smashed into the pistol, shattering it and scattering its fragments into the air.

But Shadley couldn’t celebrate the destruction of the bothersome weapon.

He had seen Rohan deliberately release the gun just before the impact.

Grab.

Rohan’s now-empty hand gripped Shadley’s arm as if to prevent him from escaping.

With an exaggerated motion, Rohan raised the crowbar high.

Shadley’s focus instinctively shifted to the weapon, readying himself to counter.

"!?"

A strange sensation coursed through his arm where Rohan had made contact, startling Shadley into retreat.

Rather than pursuing, Rohan nodded in satisfaction, standing still.

"Hmm, as I thought."

"You... you did something, didn’t you?"

Rohan’s lingering magical residue unsettled Shadley, who forced a strained smile as he rubbed his forearm.

The sensation spreading across his skin was indescribably alien.

[Target has been granted a weakness to physical attributes.]

"Good to know."

The doubts Rohan had felt during his earlier skirmish with Shadley’s subordinates were now resolved.

"The mana consumption for applying weaknesses varies depending on the target’s ability."

Additionally, at a certain threshold, skilled opponents could sense the intrusion of the skill.

Experience would always reveal the nuances that vague descriptions couldn’t explain.

"What, did you get a nice, underhanded skill?"

"Enough."

"..."

"Don’t try talking to me."

Cutting Shadley off, Rohan stepped forward.

Shadley, leaning his body forward, exuded a more aggressive presence, likely drawing mana from every reserve he had.

"A tackle?"

It wasn’t a bad strategy. Given his size and superior physical strength, Shadley would naturally want to grapple.

Rohan could understand Shadley’s reasoning.

Having already taken a hit to the arm, Shadley likely thought he could endure a direct blow to secure victory.

But once he experienced the crowbar’s effect firsthand, he would understand.

"Hmph!"

Shadley charged forward like a bull, pounding the ground with his feet.

The head-on tackle hurtled toward Rohan.

There were variables—changes in timing from deceleration or acceleration—but Rohan didn’t bother overthinking it.

He simply brought the crowbar down like he was whacking a mole.

Meanwhile, near the rendezvous point, the princess instinctively hid herself.

Checking the clock on her communication device, she noted that the agreed time had just passed.

"What should I do now? Would it be fine to just leave?"

Making a decision wasn’t easy.

She disliked the idea of radioing the elders for instructions.

"I’ll wait another ten minutes."

Resolving herself, the princess sat down with her back against the wall.

She stared absentmindedly at the starry night sky.

By the time her self-imposed ten-minute limit had passed—

Step. Step. Step.

Footsteps echoed from a distance, steadily growing closer.

The princess, still seated, pulled out a small mirror and cautiously checked the outside.

"Is that the guest the elders mentioned?"

The figure was a man, clearly not just passing by—this wasn’t the kind of place one stumbled upon.

"Come to think of it, didn’t the elders say there would be ‘guests’?"

Her memory felt muddled lately, leaving her uncertain.

Losing confidence, the princess decided to observe the man for now.

Unlike the unruly humans the elders had brought in before, this one didn’t give off the same delinquent vibe.

He even seemed to be about her age.

Still, there was an odd intensity about him, one that made her hesitate as she watched.

The man stopped in place, fiddling with his smartphone.

Then he looked around as if searching for someone.

"..."

After watching quietly, the princess gathered her prepared equipment and stood, revealing herself.