Why is Background Character the Strongest Now?-Chapter 27: Become My Sword

Chapter 27

The world cracked open in a storm of black and violet.

A flash—faster than sound.

A blur of shadow and wrath.

Xavier Quinn shot forward like a cursed comet, his sword sheathed in writhing dark mana, miasma curling off his body in waves. The ground beneath him detonated from the sheer force of his launch—air bent, stone split, debris erupted like shrapnel.

Ezra Celestrian didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

With a quiet step to the side, he let the strike pass, his coat swaying lazily, untouched by the chaos. Then—without flourish—he pivoted and delivered a sharp kick to Xavier’s ribs.

Not enough to injure. Just enough to insult.

Xavier snarled, twisting mid-air, his blade carving a vicious arc.

Ezra had already leapt back. Light-footed. Effortless.

From his spatial ring, his sword shimmered into his hand—moon-silver steel glowing faintly violet, like it remembered the stars.

CLANG.

The clash rang out like thunder.

A shockwave detonated outward. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Trees buckled. Stones shattered.

A boulder cracked down its heart and fell apart.

High above, Kael Arkezen sat atop a hovering branch, one leg dangling, watching with idle interest. With a flick of his finger, a dome of magic bloomed into existence—soundless, shielded, sealed.

⸻

Among the Trees

Marcus Ardent knelt behind a gnarled tree root, heart pounding like war drums in his chest.

What is this pressure...?

The moment Xavier stepped onto the field—his body wreathed in coiling black lightning, miasma curling like a storm around him—Marcus felt it.

Fear.

This wasn’t bully of previous semester.

This was something else.

Something born of violence. Of corruption.

His breath caught as Xavier raised his blade, dark mana snarling across its edge like it had a will of its own. The air itself seemed to twist in protest.

And yet... Ezra stood still. Calm. Unbothered.

As if this wasn’t even worth worrying about.

Was he holding back when he fought me?

No... not "was."

He was holding back.

I gave everything I had... and Ezra barely broke a sweat.

Beside him, Evelyne clutched her staff tightly, eyes wide in disbelief.

Lyria had gone pale, her lips parted, unable to speak.

Even Dalen arrogant, prideful Dalen was silent. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on the battlefield.

A low growl escaped him. "This is bullshit."

He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t accept it.

The same Xavier he defeated in last semester’s mock duels—

A minor villain, a background name—

Now stood at the center of a storm, his power twisting the very laws of mana.

"He’s devouring it," Dalen spat. "That’s not normal mana it’s miasma."

"Whatever it is," Dravis said aloud, eyes narrowed, "he’s stronger than any of us."

The silence that followed hit harder than his words.

Then Lyria spoke, her voice quiet but certain:

"He’s Rank 4... isn’t he?"

No one answered.

Because the mana Xavier radiated...

It was wild. Violent. Endless.

It didn’t feel like Rank 3. It didn’t even feel human.

"...What a monster," Evelyne whispered.

No one disagreed.

For a moment, all they could do was watch—Xavier standing like a shadow born of war, dark lightning crawling across his skin, the air howling around him.

And Ezra... just standing there.

Unmoving.

Calm.

Like a blade still in its sheath.

But for the first time, Marcus wasn’t sure if that calm was confidence... or calculation.

He’s strong.

Far stronger than any of us.

But so is Xavier now...

Xavier hadn’t just powered up—he’d changed.

His movements weren’t wild. They were precise.

His presence wasn’t unstable. It was controlled.

How do you fight someone who’s not afraid to break themselves to win?

"Can Ezra really win...?" Marcus whispered under his breath, the question bitter on his tongue.

Dravis glanced sideways at him. He didn’t answer.

Maybe he didn’t know.

Maybe none of them did.

⸻

The clash of steel echoed like thunder.

Again and again, their blades met—each strike sharper, heavier, more desperate.

Sparks danced in the air like dying stars. Cracks webbed across the ground with every blow.

In the middle of the chaos, Ezra spoke.

His voice was quiet. Smooth.

A blade hidden in silk.

"Look at you. Once the prodigy of the first year... Now just a tantrum wrapped in shadow."

Xavier’s eyes flared. "Shut up!"

Ezra tilted his head, almost curious. "Did I touch a nerve?"

CLANG!

Their swords screamed again. Ezra’s arm bent slightly with the force, but his smirk didn’t.

"You were the ’Genius Sword’, right? Top of the class. Hero material.

What happened? Or was that just an elaborate bullying campaign disguised as talent?"

"You know nothing about me!"

Xavier lunged, his blade now wrapped in wild black flames. His mana crackled with instability, burning up his own body as he charged.

Ezra didn’t flinch.

Steel met steel.

And then—boom—Ezra threw him back with a single, explosive counter.

Xavier tumbled through the dirt, carving a trench into the earth, teeth clenched in fury.

Ezra straightened his coat, sighing lightly.

Then added, with mock sympathy:

"You know, for someone so obsessed with being strong, you sure fall down a lot."

"Shut the fuck up!!"

Ezra raised a finger thoughtfully, as if lecturing a student.

"Language. I’m trying to help. Really. Therapy would be cheaper, but if screaming and self-immolation work for you..."

"You think this is a joke!?"

"No," Ezra said. "I think you are."

Xavier roared, charging again—his mana flaring so violently it scorched the grass beneath his feet.

He’s getting unstable, Ezra noted. Perfect.

"For family?" Ezra’s tone darkened. "Is that what you tell yourself while turning into a monster?"

"It’s to save her! You don’t get it—they have the cure!"

Ezra’s eyes narrowed. Just for a second.

He felt the edge of the truth behind that scream.

But then he smiled—polite, sharp.

"Ah, yes. Trusting mysterious cults that hand out miasma like candy.

Very healthy. Maybe next time they’ll cure your anger issues too."

"DIE!"

And Xavier struck with everything—desperation, rage, guilt, and the last threads of a boy who once just wanted to be loved.

"Shadowbreak: Phantom Split."

A violent whirl of shadows erupted from him—twisting, folding, duplicating.

In an instant, his form fractured into five identical silhouettes, each armed, each pulsing with seething miasma.

Then they struck—from all directions.

Slashes whistled through the air.

But Ezra didn’t move.

Not yet.

He closed his eyes.

Breathed once.

And then—boom—violet mana erupted from him in a quiet pulse, soft but absolute. The air slowed, thick as oil.

Time itself hesitated.

Ezra’s eyes opened—glowing with silent control.

He stepped forward.

Swipe—he leaned. The blade missed his cheek by a hair.

Tilt—he lifted his wrist, deflecting another strike with a ringing tap.

Twist—he spun, slicing through one illusion, dispersing it in black vapor.

The real Xavier lunged from behind—silent, deadly.

Ezra turned without looking—his sword already rising.

CLANG.

The impact split the wind itself, a shockwave pulsing across the forest.

⸻

Xavier’s Wrath

Xavier staggered back—frustration boiling over.

His breathing hitched.

His eyes darkened to bottomless pits of ink.

Miasma coiled around him like a living storm.

The trees groaned.

The ground cracked.

The sky dimmed.

Black lightning licked across his arms as he began to float—his aura bending space, tearing faint cracks into the air.

"Fine. Then TAKE THIS!"

He raised his blade high.

"FALLING HEAVEN — VOID CRESCENT!"

He slashed downward.

A towering vertical arc of pure darkness surged toward Ezra, warping gravity as it passed.

The sky above it screamed, clouds shattering into wisps.

⸻

Ezra’s smirk vanished.

He exhaled slowly. His blade lowered for a moment—casual. Controlled.

"Tch. I didn’t want to use this..."

A memory flashed—a mountaintop at midnight.

A calm voice behind him, ancient and patient:

"Rank 6 technique. Don’t chase power. Condense it.

Refine the breath of the moon."

Ezra raised his sword.

His violet mana shimmered, then compressed—folding into itself, dense as a star.

A rotating glyph bloomed around him, silent and sacred.

"Moonlight Arts: Singularity Bloom."

A pinpoint of light formed at his blade’s tip.

Then—

He thrust forward.

**A beam of violet energy erupted—**not wide, but precise. Devastating. It ripped through the air like a lance forged from eternity.

⸻

Collision.

The two techniques met mid-air—void against moonlight.

The ground shuddered.

The sky split open.

Waves of force tore through the barrier as the dome around the arena shivered and cracked.

Up above, Kael Arkezen groaned from his perch.

"These brats again... Stay stable, will you?"

With a flick of his fingers, the barrier flared and restabilized.

⸻

Inside, the world screamed.

Fire. Lightning. Gravity-warping shockwaves.

Stone ripped from the ground, trees uprooted, wind howling in reverse.

But inch by inch—

The darkness began to retreat.

Ezra stepped forward, his boots digging into the fractured earth, his mana burning hotter with each stride.

CRACK—BOOM!

The violet beam tore through the last of Xavier’s crescent—and slammed into him.

Black flames exploded outward as Xavier was launched across the battlefield, crashing into the ground with a thunderous impact.

⸻——-

Silence

The world went still.

Dust hung like ghosts in the air. The forest lay in ruin—trees torn from the earth, stones split, mana still trembling in the atmosphere.

Xavier’s body crashed into the ground with a sickening thud—bloodied, scorched, and barely breathing.

Ezra stepped through the rubble, his blade low, boots crunching over shattered stone and embers.

Xavier coughed blood, trying to rise, but his arms trembled beneath him.

"Kill me..." he rasped.

Ezra appeared beside him in a blink, crouching just out of arm’s reach—calm, unreadable.

"If I wanted to kill you," he said softly, "why would I orchestrate all this? I could’ve reported you. Let the professors chain you up and be done with it."

Xavier looked up, vision swimming—confused. Angry. Lost.

"Then... what do you want from me?"

Ezra didn’t smile. His voice was quiet, but his eyes were sharp as a blade.

"You."

Xavier blinked. "What...?"

Ezra leaned in—close enough that only Xavier could hear.

"I know how to extract the miasma. I can cure it. I can even save your sister."

He let that settle.

"And I’ll pay you. Five thousand gold a month. Shelter. Resources. Protection."

"In return... you serve me. Become my sword."

The forest was silent.

"No one else heard this. Just you. Me. And the truth."

Xavier’s breath hitched.

A cure? For her?

His thoughts spiraled.

Then he growled, bitter. "You’re bluffing. How the hell could you cure something even the High Arcanum can’t touch?"

Ezra’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"Xavier. The path you’re walking leads to ruin. You’re already marked by the Dark Order. Sooner or later, the school will find out. The city. The world."

"And when they do... they won’t just come for you."

Xavier looked away.

"I don’t care."

"Even if you don’t... what about your sister?" Ezra’s tone was sharper now, more personal. "What happens when they learn her brother consorted with demons? When she’s labeled by association? Hunted? Purged?"

Xavier clenched his fists, nails digging into bloodied dirt. "I’ll cut all ties. Disappear from her life. That’ll protect her."

Ezra let out a dry, hollow laugh.

"Naïve."

He stood slowly, gaze cast down like judgment.

"In this world of arcane seals, mana surveillance, scrying records—do you really think disappearing is enough?"

Xavier trembled, torn open in a way no blade could.

"Then what the fuck do you expect me to do?!"

Ezra stepped forward.

His voice was no longer mocking, no longer cold—just quiet. Steady. A hand outstretched across a battlefield of ruin.

"Become my sword."

"Let me save her."

"And you."

—————————

Author Note

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