The auditorium doors slammed open.
Kaizen surged forward with the tide of bodies. He wasn't breathing; he was just vibrating with pure, distilled adrenaline.
"SIT DOWN!"
A voice amplified by wind magic boomed from the stage. It wasn't the Principal. It was the Vice-Principal, a man who looked like he ate gravel for breakfast and washed it down with a glass of pure hatred.
"ANYONE STANDING IN TEN SECONDS IS EXPELLED!"
'Ten seconds?!'
Panic detonated.
It wasn't an assembly; it was musical chairs with a death penalty. Students scrambled, diving over rows, shoving past each other, fighting for real estate like their lives depended on it. Because in this academy, they did.
Kaizen didn't fight. Fighting drew attention. He weaved.
'Excuse me, pardon me, just a generic background character coming through. Don't mind the texture pop-in.'
He scanned the sea of heads. Full. Full. Full. Every seat was taken by a desperate student clinging to the armrests.
'Oh god. Oh god. I'm going to get expelled. I'm going to starve on the streets. I'm going to have to eat rats to survive.'
Seven seconds.
He saw it.
A gap. A single, pristine empty seat in the middle of the third row. It was like a beacon of hope in a dark ocean. A divine miracle.
'Mine!'
He dove. He literally slid into the seat, his butt hitting the cushion just as the Vice-Principal roared, "TIME!"
Whoosh.
Silence fell over the hall instantly. You could hear a pin drop. You could hear a heavy breather three rows back.
Kaizen slumped forward, clutching his knees. His heart was doing jumping jacks against his ribs, trying to escape his chest.
'I made it. I'm safe. I'm invisible.'
He let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He was alive. He was seated. He was just going to keep his head down, stare at his shoes, and—
He looked to his left.
Silver hair that shimmered like moonlight. Pointed ears that twitched slightly. A profile so perfect it looked like it had been carved from marble by a lovesick god.
Rina Valentine.
The Elf Princess. The future S ranker! The girl who hated humans almost as much as she hated bad tea.
She was sitting six inches away from him.
'...Oh no.'
Kaizen's heart stopped. It didn't skip a beat; it just handed in its two-week notice and walked out.
She wasn't looking at the stage. She was looking at him. Her violet eyes swept over his generic face, his messy hair, his cheap polyester uniform.
She frowned. It wasn't anger. It was total, dismissive uninterest.
'Mob Character,' her eyes seemed to say. 'Waste of polygons.'
She scoffed, flipped her hair, and turned back to the stage.
Kaizen felt his soul crack down the middle.
'Too close. I'm too close to the main plot. Why was this seat empty? Because nobody is crazy enough to sit next to the Ice Princess! It's a trap!'
He had walked right into the aggro range.
He swallowed dryly. 'Okay. Okay. Don't panic. Just... create distance. Fade into the background.'
He scooted. He shifted his weight to the right, pressing himself against the opposite armrest, trying to put as much physical space between himself and the elf as possible.
He exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. 'Safe—'
"Dude, you're in my space."
The voice came from his right. It was pleasant, firm, and terrifyingly familiar.
Kaizen froze.
He turned his head slowly, like a rusted hinge.
Red hair. A charismatic grin. An aura that screamed 'I am the center of the universe.'
Leo Crimson.
The Hero.
The Main Character. The Protagonist. The guy who attracted meteors, demon lords, and assassins just by waking up in the morning.
Kaizen felt the blood drain from his face so fast he got dizzy.
'I'm sandwiched. I'm literally the meat in a Protagonist sandwich.'
He wanted to scream. He wanted an alien spaceship to beam him up right now. He would accept probing. He would accept vivisection. Anything was better than this positioning.
"I—I—" Kaizen stammered.
Leo blinked, then his expression softened. That trademark, blinding hero smile appeared—the one that launched a thousand fanfictions.
"It's okay," Leo said, chuckling. "We're packed in tight, huh?"
'He's nice. Oh god, he's nice. That's worse. If he likes me, I'll become the Comic Relief Friend. The Comic Relief Friend always dies in Season 3 to give the Hero character development!'
Kaizen managed a weak, terrified twitch of his lips that might have been a smile or a stroke.
'Escape. I need to escape. I need to glitch through the floor.'
He looked around frantically. The Vice-Principal was droning on about "honor" and "sacrifice." Everyone was seated. If he moved now, he would be seen.
But staying here was death.
He shifted again, half-standing, trying to see if he could vault over the seat in front of him without anyone noticing.
"Stupid human," a gruff, annoyed voice grumbled from directly behind his ear. "Can you please sit down? I am trying to watch this!"
Kaizen stiffened.
He looked over his shoulder.
A stocky boy with a thick beard (despite being fifteen) and arms like tree trunks was glaring at him.
Gad Buster. The Dwarf Prodigy.
Crack.
That was the sound of Kaizen's hope shattering into a million pieces.
Left: The Elf. Right: The Hero. Behind: The Dwarf.
He was in the middle of the Hero Party formation. He was sitting in the exact spot where the Healer or the Strategist was supposed to sit.
He had stolen a Main Character's seat.
Kaizen didn't try to stand anymore. He clutched his chest, feeling a phantom pain, and sank back into the chair. He slid down until his knees hit the seat in front of him, trying to become two-dimensional.
'It's over. My quiet life is over before noon on the first day.'
He stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering if the chandelier would fall on him. It would be a mercy.
A hand touched his shoulder.
"Dude," Leo whispered, his voice full of genuine, nauseatingly heroic concern. "Are you alright? You look pale."