A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga

Chapter 34

Hearing my words, everyone’s expressions varied. What did I mean by “he has to win, whether he wants to or not”? Could I control the match’s outcome? At least, that’s what Jiang Tianming thought.

He suddenly realized that abilities labeled as “prophecy” weren’t as simple as they seemed. He’d noticed something off in Feng Lan’s arena performance and guessed the truth. Feng Lan’s [Prophecy] was definitely more than what they’d initially understood.

And now, it seemed my ability had only shown the tip of the iceberg.

Others had similar thoughts to varying degrees. Thinking this, they stopped persuading me and turned to the arena. They wanted to see how Wu Jin would win this lopsided match.

As they’d predicted, Wu Jin was steadily losing ground. Soon, he was cornered at the arena’s edge by the opponent with double physical stats. One more step, and he’d be pushed off.

Was I about to flip? Jiang Tianming watched the match while pondering. He couldn’t see any way Wu Jin could win.

But in the next second, the situation flipped!

Wu Jin suddenly shut his mouth and crouched. His opponent froze, as if blind, completely unaware Wu Jin was right at his feet.

The blue-haired boy looked puzzledly at his outstretched hands, scanned around, and, seeing no one, scratched his head: “Where’d he go? Did I already push him off? Or did he fall so fast I didn’t notice?”

That was the only explanation he could think of. Otherwise, what—could the guy turn invisible? That’d be a joke for a Class F student.

Thinking this, the blue-haired boy flashed a victor’s smile and swaggered off the arena, waiting for the referee to declare his win. Referees only stepped in early for disputed outcomes. For clear victories like his, they’d announce after both sides left the arena.

But to his surprise, the crowd was silent. The few watching his match weren’t looking at him or the arena but at a handsome blond boy.

What was going on? How was his spotlight stolen?

The blue-haired boy, displeased, started walking over to reclaim attention. But before he took two steps, he heard footsteps from the arena behind him.

Turning, he saw Wu Jin, whom he thought he’d knocked off, slowly walking down from the arena.

“What?” He was stunned. “How are you still up there!”

Only then did he realize he’d been tricked.

Before Wu Jin could answer, the referee arrived and announced: “Wu Jin wins.”

“No! Impossible!” The blue-haired boy refused to accept it, grabbing Wu Jin’s collar, face flushed: “What’s your ability? How did you disappear?”

Most students hadn’t thought to get ability intel from Campus Wall like I did—flexible thinkers were rare. Otherwise, the blue-haired boy wouldn’t have suffered such a loss.

The referee promptly pulled him away, warning: “No attacking classmates off the arena. Next time, it won’t just be a warning.”

Fighting at school could lead to point deductions or even expulsion.

After the warning, the blue-haired boy calmed slightly but still glared at Wu Jin, demanding an answer. He wasn’t a sore loser—he just didn’t understand how he lost.

Though victorious, Wu Jin’s face showed no joy, still grim. In a flat, almost toneless voice, he answered: “It’s [No Presence].”

He was smart, not revealing the drawback that his low presence only worked when silent. Though not a fatal flaw, and revealing it wouldn’t let others counter him easily, it was always better to keep a card hidden. What if he faced an ability that countered his?

Getting his answer, the blue-haired boy finally understood his loss. Wu Jin hadn’t fallen off as he thought but used his ability to erase his presence. He’d foolishly assumed victory and walked off, handing over the win. He’d sensed something was off—why hadn’t he held out?

Thinking this, he huffed like a bull, taking a while to calm his anger. Finally, he shot a glare at the boy who’d beaten him and stormed off.

Wu Jin, victorious, glanced silently at Jiang Tianming and the others. Even knowing they were watching his match, he had no intention of greeting them and left quietly.

Jiang Tianming and the others had no interest in chatting with him either. They were all reeling from the shock I’d just given them.

After the involved parties left, Jiang Tianming let out a long breath, looking at me with a complex expression: “Did his victory have anything to do with you?”

He could tell Wu Jin’s win was due to his own strategy paying off, a brilliant underdog move. But my earlier words made him wonder if I’d subtly guided it all.

Especially since I’d summoned that strange gear. His ability was definitely tied to gears. Now that the gear was gone, Jiang Tianming couldn’t help but think it had played a role.

But I just shrugged, looking innocent and sincere: “Nope.”

I was telling the truth, but no one believed me. After my earlier performance, who’d buy that this had nothing to do with me?

No one spoke, all lost in their thoughts. Even Mo Xiaotian just looked at me curiously, not pressing further.

“Weren’t you afraid you’d lose the bet?!” Manga Consciousness was nearly scared to death. It knew Wu Jin would win this round, but I didn’t!

Manga Consciousness couldn’t fathom how I dared make such a bold claim without knowing. Wasn’t I afraid of flipping?

If Wu Jin had lost, my earlier words would’ve been a joke. Manga Consciousness didn’t dare imagine how my persona would’ve collapsed.

Facing the others’ shocked, admiring, or probing gazes, I maintained my calm exterior, but inwardly, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

I’d won the bet!

Hearing Manga Consciousness’s question, I curled my lips imperceptibly: “A 99% chance isn’t worth betting on?”

That was fair. If the win probability was truly 99%, it was worth a gamble. If I was scared of a 1% loss, I might as well quit.

On this, Manga Consciousness and I agreed. No matter how dire the consequences of failure, as long as the win rate was high enough, it was worth a shot.

But Manga Consciousness was puzzled: “Where’d you get 99%? As far as I know, your understanding of Wu Jin’s role is pure guesswork. The only confirmation is that he joined Si Zhaohua’s team, and even then, it was Zhao Xiaoyu who dragged him in.”

“My initial guess that he’d have a significant role in the manga had a 50% chance,” I explained inwardly. “When he joined Si Zhaohua’s team, that guess became 100%. He’s definitely a key character with screen time.”

“Si Zhaohua’s team is set up to contrast with the protagonist group, so its members need to keep winning to create a stark contrast when they lose to the protagonists. Thus, Wu Jin’s chance of winning this round was 95%.”

This analysis made sense. Manga Consciousness felt this was enough to justify the bet but pressed: “What about the last 4%? You said 99%.”

“The final 4% came from him talking nonstop since he stepped on the arena. His ability is [Silence Is Silence], so talking constantly meant he was deliberately hiding his ability, waiting for the right moment.” I slipped my hands into my pockets, eyes glinting with amusement. “In other words, he had the will to win.”

Now Manga Consciousness fully understood. Wu Jin was scripted not to lose, and with his desire to win, losing was nearly impossible.

At this point, it could’ve been 100%, but I insisted on leaving 1% for the chance of the author going rogue. Author whims were a common ailment these days—couldn’t ignore them.

“You’re impressive.” Manga Consciousness was thoroughly convinced, feeling the full weight of that 3% edge. It was now 100% certain that if anyone could save the world, it was me.

After it vanished, I closed my eyes, calming my racing heart. No matter how confident I was, the harsh cost of failure made it hard not to be nervous.

Good thing I’d won. I hadn’t wasted the info that “Wu Jin might be a key character.”

When sorting through my usable intel earlier, I’d pondered how to use this tidbit. It seemed useless and unreliable, easily discardable. But with so little to work with, I had to make everything count.

I’d been stumped, unable to just tell Jiang Tianming to buddy up with Wu Jin.

Until I saw Wu Jin step onto the arena. A spark hit me, and I realized the right way to use this info.

After a brief weighing, I settled on my plan. Though failure would have near-unbearable consequences, the plan’s success rate was high, and the payoff was huge. Balancing the two, I was willing to take the risk.

Now, with success in hand and rewards secured, I was already thinking about how to steer the forum’s narrative later.

Next up were Mo Xiaotian, Wu Mingbai, Lan Subing, and Jiang Tianming’s matches.

As a Class A student, Mo Xiaotian was matched against a Class B opponent. He set up a few transparent cubes, easily blocking his opponent’s front. Though the opponent could unleash decent fire attacks, they were fully blocked by the cubes. With no choice, they retreated, and one misstep sent them off the arena.

After Mo Xiaotian stepped down, we went to eat together. It was noon, and the second half would start at 2 p.m. We’d return then.

During lunch, Jiang Tianming finally asked what everyone was curious about: “So, Xiaotian, what exactly is your ability?”

“It’s [Air], but I can only solidify a small portion of air for now.” Mo Xiaotian didn’t hide anything, answering Jiang Tianming honestly.

Hearing this ability, everyone couldn’t help but gasp. [Air]! What a terrifying ability! Air was something everyone needed. If someone could control air, they essentially held humanity’s lifeline.

Undoubtedly, this was an extremely powerful ability.

“If an ability like [Air] is only in Class A, how strong are Class S students?” Wu Mingbai’s face, usually cheerful, lost its smile as he murmured.

The others overheard, falling silent. Yeah, [Air] already seemed invincible with a high ceiling. Were there really abilities above it?

“Maybe there’s no Class S?” Jiang Tianming said uncertainly.

Public knowledge only covered Classes F to A, with no mention of Class S. Someone had speculated about a Class S, and it gained traction, but no one knew if it actually existed.

“Impossible.” Surprisingly, Mu Tieren was the first to refute this. “I asked our teacher about it before. From his attitude, I’m pretty sure Class S exists.”

As Class Monitor, he naturally knew more about the academy than others. If he said so, Class S likely existed.

I was also thinking about Class S. From the manga, I knew our current Class F teacher, Meng Huai, had taught several Class S batches. So Class S’ existence was undeniable.

But as Wu Mingbai said, if a powerful ability like [Air] was only Class A, how strong were Class S abilities?

Suddenly, Jiang Tianming looked at me: “Su…”

He got stuck after my name. Calling me Su Bei felt too formal, especially since I’d helped them, and we were teammates now. It felt awkward, like addressing a stranger. But if not Su Bei, what? Two-character names were tricky for building closeness.

Then he recalled Mo Xiaotian calling me “Brother Bei.” It was good, just a bit embarrassing.

After hesitating, Jiang Tianming stuck to formality: “Su Bei, do you know about Class S?”

I didn’t know, and I was curious too. But I knew I couldn’t show my ignorance. Class S hadn’t appeared yet, meaning I could potentially influence it through the manga. If I admitted I didn’t know, I’d not only lose mystique—making me less enigmatic than Class S—but also miss this chance.

So even if I didn’t know, I had to “know.”

“I know,” I said calmly.

At that, everyone’s eyes lit up. They knew I’d know about Class S! It felt like there was nothing I didn’t know.

“Brother Bei’s amazing, knowing even this!” Mo Xiaotian cheered. “So how strong are Class S abilities?”

This was a tough question. I didn’t know Class S specifics, but I couldn’t downplay their abilities. Due to the information gap, manga readers wouldn’t doubt me—they couldn’t imagine someone in the manga deliberately lying.

That meant if I said something, readers would likely believe it.

In this world, Nightmare Beasts were stronger than humans. If I accidentally weakened humans, it’d be disastrous.

So if I had to give an answer, I could only aim high, not low. Who knew Class S’s ceiling? I was afraid of being a frog in a well, underestimating them.

Wait?

A thought struck me. If I could use the manga to weaken Class S, why not use it to weaken Nightmare Beasts? If I pulled that off, wouldn’t the world’s crisis be resolved?

I got excited, wanting to ask Manga Consciousness immediately. But I had the current issue to deal with, so I couldn’t spare the time.

After thinking, my eyes brightened, and I said mysteriously: “Why rush? Besides, Class S isn’t necessarily stronger than Class A.”

This was undeniably true, even without knowing anything. Class S wasn’t guaranteed to outshine Class A, just like I, from Class F, beat the Class C green-haired boy. With proper planning, a rabbit could kill a tiger.

It felt like I’d revealed some insider info, yet said nothing at all.

The protagonist group didn’t catch my bluff, all looking thoughtful. They interpreted my answer as: “Class S abilities aren’t necessarily stronger, but they’re very unique.”

What kind of uniqueness warranted a separate class?

After lunch, everyone returned to their dorms. Once in my dorm, I frantically pinged Manga Consciousness. Though I’d calmed down and suspected my idea might not work, it was still a glimmer of hope.

Hearing my question, Manga Consciousness predictably gave a negative answer: “You can’t change the world’s foundational framework. Nightmare Beasts being stronger than humans is a result of that framework.”

Foundational framework?

I raised an eyebrow: “So what’s this foundational framework?”

“Can’t say. You have to discover it yourself.” Manga Consciousness wanted to tell me, but as a manga character, there were things it couldn’t directly reveal.

I couldn’t help but sigh but realized this framework was likely tied to Nightmare Beasts. Maybe after the exam, I should investigate Nightmare Beast data.

Too many unknowns. For now, I focused on reality. I collected my thoughts and looked at the arena. It was Wu Mingbai’s turn.

Wu Mingbai was a Class D student, but anyone with eyes could see his [Earth Element] had a high ceiling. An ability based on a single classical element, with enough mental energy and proper development, had an immeasurable future.

But its floor was also high. With low mental energy or misguided development, many ended up as ditch-diggers after graduation.

Thus, element-based abilities with little attack power, like [Earth Element] or [Wood Element], were initially placed in Class D. [Water Element] and [Metal Element] were slightly special, assigned to Class C. [Fire Element], like Mo Xiaotian’s opponent’s ability, had strong attack power and was placed in Class B.

After the exam, these students would likely be reassigned.

After a nap, I checked the time. Wu Mingbai’s match was at 3 p.m. Seeing it was almost time, I headed to the sports field. When I arrived, the others were already there.

Soon, the match began. Wu Mingbai’s opponent was a Class B student. I’d only bought Class C and D ability intel, so we didn’t know Class A or B abilities.

I could’ve pooled money with others to buy it, but I felt it wasn’t worth it. From Campus Wall’s Class C, D, and F intel, their main source was likely school enrollment records.

But Class A and B abilities had high ceilings, and a week’s changes could be significant. For example, Mo Xiaotian’s opponent—before the exam, Mo Xiaotian knew their ability from a Class A-B matchup.

Their ability was [Fire Element], described at enrollment as igniting flames in their palm. But on the arena, they didn’t just ignite flames—they could cloak their body in fire and throw fist-sized fireballs.

Blindly trusting enrollment data could lead to big losses. So pooling money for intel wasn’t worth it.

Back to the arena, since we didn’t know the opponent’s ability, Wu Mingbai was cautious. He hopped around the arena’s edge, looking carefree but not attacking.

His opponent, a purple-haired girl, was also cautious despite being Class B. Though she found Wu Mingbai’s overly cheerful demeanor annoying, she didn’t dare attack rashly.

They circled the arena’s edge twice, neither making a move.

The crowd below grew bored. A boy complained: “What are those two dawdling for? Just fight! That guy, a big man, what’s with the dilly-dallying? And that girl, a Class B bigshot, scared of a Class D?”

Jiang Tianming and the others glanced at him. Lan Subing couldn’t resist typing: “Why not watch another arena?”

The mechanical female voice startled the boy, who stepped back before noticing Lan Subing with her phone and white scarf.

“Hmph, you think I don’t want to leave?” He quickly regained composure, venting excitedly: “I bet on this arena! You know how hard it is to find a matchup with such a class gap and so few bettors?”

He’d checked—someone bet on the boy, so he’d earn something regardless. Thinking this, he grinned confidently: “I’m guaranteed a small profit!”

Hearing him, Jiang Tianming and the others exchanged looks, pulling out their phones to tinker.

The boy grew wary: “What are you doing? You’re not betting on the girl too, are you?”

If more bet on the girl, his share of points would shrink.

Jiang Tianming waved his phone, smiling: “You reminded us. We’re betting on the boy.”

The boy froze, refreshing his phone. Sure enough, four more had bet on Wu Mingbai, making five total.

“Are you crazy?” He gaped, pointing at Wu Mingbai: “That’s Class D.” Then at the purple-haired girl: “That’s Class B. You didn’t mix them up, did you?”

Seeing Jiang Tianming and the others show no regret, he was puzzled but soon grinned: “Whatever, bet on him all you want.”

More points bet meant more for him. Points were hard to come by, and he was about to cash in big!

During their exchange, the arena finally saw action. The impatient one was the purple-haired girl. She figured with her Class B strength, she didn’t need to be so cautious against the goofy brown-haired boy bouncing around.

With that thought, she flicked her wrist, and a brush appeared from nowhere. The brush was as long as an arm, its handle carved with simple patterns, looking ancient and grand. The tip was saturated with ink, ready to drip.

The purple-haired girl wielded the brush, writing a bold “knife” in the air. The next second, the ink twisted, forming a sharp long knife.

At the same time, her face paled, clearly from expending too much mental energy. But she wasn’t worried—her eyes flashed with pride.

This was her ability, [Magic Brush Ma Liang]. With the brush formed by her ability, anything she wrote or drew could materialize in reality under her mental energy.

But her mental energy was weak, limiting her to one direction of words. For this arena match, she’d chosen weapons. “Knife” was the easiest to write among weapons, with high attack power, perfect for a newbie like her.

On the arena, someone with a weapon beating someone without was child’s play.

Seeing the long knife about to form and fall, the girl’s expression grew more certain. Once she had the weapon, victory was hers.

But in the next second, the situation flipped!

A pillar of earth suddenly shot up from the ground, hurtling toward the knife. Before the girl could react, it touched the forming knife.

The knife, meant to drop vertically, was knocked toward Wu Mingbai’s direction by the impact.

Wu Mingbai didn’t miss the chance he’d created. He leaped, catching the knife steadily. Lowering his head, he weighed the knife, sincerely praising: “What a fine knife!”

“Who asked for your praise?” The purple-haired girl was nearly fuming. “Give me back my knife!”

This was the knife she’d poured nearly all her mental energy into creating. How could it be snatched away? She likely couldn’t muster the energy for another. If she didn’t reclaim it, she’d lose this round.

As she’d thought earlier, a weaponed fighter against an unarmed one was a joke.

But Wu Mingbai wasn’t foolish enough to return it. He nodded with a bright smile: “I’ll return it once I’m off the arena.”

“Who needs it then!” The girl was furious again. But she knew she probably couldn’t get the knife back. Her skill was inferior, and her creation was stolen—her fault.

Sure enough, Wu Mingbai ignored her earlier words, holding the knife and walking toward her while asking: “Do you want to step off and forfeit, or wait for the referee to declare your loss?”

The referee declaring a loss would mean she was about to take a fatal hit.

Hearing this, the girl’s face grew paler. But she wasn’t willing to crash out of the exam so soon, so despite the dire situation, she tried to negotiate: “Wait, hear me out.”

Knowing her mental energy wouldn’t recover soon and victory was in his grasp, Wu Mingbai tilted his head like a cat, toying with his opponent: “Go on.”

The purple-haired girl didn’t care what he thought, only wanting to seize her last chance: “You know you only beat me by trickery. Future opponents won’t be as careless as me. You’re Class D—you’ll likely lose tomorrow. But I’m different. I have a good shot at the top 50. If you let me win this time, we can make a contract. I’ll give you half—no, three-fifths—of my reward. What do you say?”

Gotta say, this purple-haired girl was smart. She’d judged the situation correctly. If her opponent was just an average Class D student, her words might’ve swayed them.

You couldn’t always rely on tricks in matches, nor would opponents always be careless. A Class D ability breaking into the top 50 was nearly impossible.

In that case, letting her win was better. If she reached the top 50, earning 50 points, he’d get 30 for free—a sweet deal.

But unfortunately, she faced Wu Mingbai, who wasn’t one to pin hopes on others.

So he shook his head, feigning regret: “Sorry, even if I lose tomorrow, I want to lose on my terms.”

Paired with his appearance, those words had a hot-blooded manga protagonist vibe. But those who knew him well—like us—knew he was probably mocking her, implying that even if she won today, she’d lose tomorrow.

The outcome was no longer in doubt, and everyone shifted their attention. Only the boy who’d bet on the purple-haired girl kept watching, hoping for a miracle.

Sadly, his hopes were impossible against Wu Mingbai. When the referee declared Wu Mingbai’s victory, the light in the boy’s eyes shattered.

“No! This isn’t real!” In true manga fashion, he knelt, clutching his head: “My hard-earned 50 points!”

The purple-haired girl walked over, dejected. Seeing someone grieving for her, she joined him, crying: “Wahhh! I lost in the first round! I’m so miserable!!!”

My face darkened. I’ll say it again—I was done with this manga world!

This awkwardness baffled me. I asked Manga Consciousness inwardly: “Why do I feel embarrassed? Aren’t I part of this manga world? Why do I find this behavior idiotic?”

“Because you’ve touched the third dimension,” Manga Consciousness said flatly. “Contact with the third dimension detaches you from second-dimensional consciousness.”

I couldn’t help but sigh, instantly drawing attention. Jiang Tianming spun like a startled black cat, asking in panic: “Why’d you sigh?”

What could make me sigh?!

Hearing him, the others turned, all with shocked cat-like faces.

I froze, then made an excuse: “You guys split the points this time. I earned way less than before.”

Everyone relaxed. Mo Xiaotian chirped happily: “I’m following Brother Bei’s bets next time too!”

Recalling my uncanny ability with Wu Jin’s match, Wu Mingbai’s eyes lit up. He nodded, joining Mo Xiaotian like a pair of cheerful brothers: “Take us along to earn points, Brother Bei~”

Seeing them eyeing my points, I flashed a fake smile: “You can follow my bets, but don’t forget—you can’t see how many points I’m betting on each person.”

“What’s that mean?” Mo Xiaotian didn’t get it.

But the others, being sharp, understood. I could deliberately bet 1 point on someone predicted to lose. If they followed blindly, they’d lose big.

Before they could respond, Mo Xiaotian, carefree, slung an arm around my shoulder: “Whatever, I’m sticking with you!”

I shot him an exasperated yet helpless glance: “Suit yourself.”

The others exchanged amused looks and laughed. They silently decided to ignore my warning. With such a great point-earning chance, they were sticking with me too!

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zhao Xiaoyu take the stage. Her opponent was a fellow Class F student.

A match between two Class F students wasn’t exciting, and no one bet on it. But each had one bettor—clearly themselves. Class F had little to offer. Except for the Class Monitor, who got some extra points, the rest had just 15 points.

Though even a mosquito’s worth was still meat… I glanced at the five beside me. But splitting with them, I’d get less than 2 points each. Forget it. I had plenty now—no need for the hassle.

Noticing my gaze, Jiang Tianming followed it: “You want to bet on Zhao Xiaoyu’s match?”

I shook my head: “Hardly any points to earn.”

So I’d considered it. Jiang Tianming grew interested: “No points, no problem. Who do you think will win?”

I raised an eyebrow. No points, but building my persona was nice! A free opportunity shouldn’t be wasted. I answered decisively: “Zhao Xiaoyu.”

Mu Tieren mused: “If I recall, Zhao Xiaoyu’s ability is [Laughter], making people smile when they speak. The other, Li Qian’s, is [Make Bed], as it sounds. These two fighting should come down to physical ability, right?”

Gotta say, Class F students had abilities utterly useless in combat.

“No…” I shook my head, saying meaningfully: “I think Zhao Xiaoyu will definitely use her ability.”