The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character

I continued to test the metal rod—

[Soul Bound Staff].

When I said, "Become light," it responded.

Not instantly, but with this strange, almost delayed breath—like it had to think about obeying me.

At first, it was just a fraction of weight gone. Then more.

The pressure in my arms eased, until I could swing it with both hands—awkwardly, sure, but swing it nonetheless.

"…Interesting," I muttered, tightening my grip.

"Become lighter," I tried again, voice firmer.

The staff shimmered slightly, like heat rising off a forge, and it responded—this time faster, smoother. My arms no longer trembled trying to hold it upright. It was adapting to me. Or maybe... I was adapting to it.

Then I whispered the opposite.

"Become heavy."

CLUNK.

My feet immediately sank a few inches into the soil.

My shoulders buckled, and I nearly collapsed.

"Sh—shit…!"

I forced it down, planting the tip into the earth just to stay upright.

That wasn't just weight. That was punishment. Like carrying a mountain made of memory.

"Alright… that works too," I grunted, regaining my footing.

I exhaled and leaned on the staff, heart pounding.

It was responding to commands, yes—but not like a machine. More like… an animal. Something proud, that didn't take orders unless it respected you.

And when I thought back to Zhao Yuren…

That made sense.

This wasn't just a tool. This was a will forged into metal.

His will.

Which meant if I ever used it in battle, I couldn't just swing it like any ordinary weapon.

I had to talk to it.

Negotiate. Command with purpose. With clarity.

I looked down at the smooth, dark shaft of the staff.

"…Can you change your size too?" I asked, mostly out of curiosity.

There was a long pause. Then—

With a flicker of resistance—

The staff extended, nearly two meters long, until the tip hummed above my head like a spear.

"…You can."

I grinned.

Now we were getting somewhere.

This wasn't just a weapon. This was a partner.

I spun the staff experimentally. Still heavy enough to hit like a warhammer, but balanced now. Responsive.

After that, I tested the Soul Bound Staff a few more times and discovered more of its strange abilities.

[Size Manipulation]

It could shrink small enough to tuck behind my ear or stretch long enough to split a tree down the middle.

With just a thought, I could wield a spear, a club, or a needle.

[Weight of Will]

To me, it was manageable. Even comforting.

To anyone else who touched it… it became an anchor. Unmovable.

I watched a beetle try crawling across it—

It cracked under the pressure.

[Soul Pulse]

That one was harder to notice.

But in moments where I hesitated—

When I faltered, even slightly—

It moved.

Blocked a branch from hitting my face.

Redirected my swing before it could break my wrist.

Like it had eyes. Like it knew what I wanted—sometimes better than I did.

It was… eerie.

But also kind of reassuring.

The wind rustled the leaves above. The staff hummed faintly in reply.

I let my thoughts drift.

A name. It needed a name.

Something simple. Nothing too flashy. Just… something that made sense.

"…How about Lan?"

I said it aloud.

"Lan."

Short. Steady. Quiet, but strong.

The moment the word left my lips, I felt a soft pulse run through the metal. Like warmth. Like approval.

Yeah.

That was it.

"From now on, you're Lan," I said again, more certain this time.

The staff didn't speak. But I felt it—

the connection deepen.

This was no longer Zhao Yuren's weapon.

It was mine.

And its name… was Lan.

Of course! Here's a more natural and human-like version of the scene, with smoother dialogue flow, refined phrasing, and a tone that balances mystery, humor, and a bit of awe:

This was no longer Zhao Yuren's weapon.

It was mine.

And its name… was Lan.

I let the name settle on my tongue, feeling the bond between us solidify. The moment was quiet, peaceful, but something tugged at the edge of my thoughts.

Right—there was something else I had to try.

Carrying it as a staff was fine. But swordsmanship… that was my specialty. If this weapon was truly bound to me, shouldn't it match my style?

I closed my eyes and focused.

Blade. Something small. Quick. Familiar.

As if reading my mind, Lan began to shift.

The long staff compressed, folding in on itself with a quiet, metallic sigh until it became a short, obsidian knife. Sleek, compact—perfectly balanced for my grip. It even felt lighter now, as if it understood my needs and adjusted before I could ask.

I turned the blade in my hand, letting the weight settle.

"…Perfect."

It gleamed faintly in the light, like it knew it had done a good job.

My lips curled into a grin.

"I look forward to working with you, Lan."

—Indeed. I look forward to it as well.

"…"

I blinked.

"Wait… what?"

—You seem unwell. Perhaps a meal would help? Roc eggs are good for stamina. I could guide you to a nest.

"…Huh??"

—You've just overcome a trial, yet you already look half-dead. Still, you did manage to pass, so… I suppose I can't expect too much from you right away.

I stared at the knife in my hand like it had just grown a face.

"No, no, no—hold on. Are you… talking?"

Silence followed. But the blade pulsed gently in my hand. Not threatening—just amused. Like it was watching me flail.

—I am what remains of Zhao Yuren's conscience. Or perhaps… what he left behind.

—In truth, you shouldn't be able to speak with me. But because you named the staff and formed a bond… well, communication became possible.

—Surely, you knew that much?

I felt my jaw tighten.

"You're telling me… you're really Zhao Yuren?"

—How rude. You don't believe me?

"No, I mean… it's not that. I just thought—after passing the trial, the weapon's original consciousness was supposed to disappear."

—That's a common misunderstanding.

—The consciousness doesn't vanish—it lingers, buried deep within the relic.

—But to speak with it, two conditions must be met. First, the weapon must be named by its new wielder. Second…

—It's up to the previous owner—me—to decide whether or not to respond.

"…This is insane," I muttered.

In the novel, the villain who took this staff never named it. Never heard a voice. To him, it was just a powerful weapon—a tool, nothing more.

But here I was.

And this relic… was talking back.

—That's because I like you, kid, Zhao said, and I swore I could hear the smirk behind his voice.

—You've got spirit. A bit reckless, but not bad. So I thought, why not? I'll stick around. Chat with you. See what you make of this power.

—It'll be entertaining, if nothing else.

I rubbed my temples, exhaling slowly.

—"A legendary warrior's ghost is living in my short sword… and he's staying for the entertainment."

—Precisely.

"…What the hell is my life."

And with that I got an unexpected partner.

---

Author Note.

Thank you for reading the chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future. Bye