A Guide for Background Characters to Survive in a Manga

Translator: AkazaTL

Proofreader/Editor: JWyck

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Chapter 302

Back at the academy, Meng Huai called me to his office immediately. He didn’t waste time, asking straight: “Su Bei, any clues about ‘Black Flash’ involvement in the world competition?”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised, pointing at myself: “Me? What clues could I have? Just wish Jiang Tianming and the rest luck.”

“Not that,” Meng Huai shook his head, pausing before asking, “Do you know what Ye Lin told us?”

Ye Lin?

I thought about any shared secrets with Ye Lin, quickly realizing. The only secret she knew was my “Destiny” membership.

I’d wondered if she’d tell Meng Huai and Lei Ze’en, since she didn’t seem loyal to “Black Flash,” unwilling to leak their intel. Besides, this wasn’t about “Black Flash.”

But even guessing, I wouldn’t admit it. What if I was wrong? That’d be self-sabotage. So I just asked innocently: “What?”

Seeing I’d play dumb, Meng Huai cut through: “’A Destiny’ member? I finally get to meet a live one.”

As expected. I inwardly sighed in relief, chuckling at his words. I wasn’t the only one he’d met—Principal Wu Di was also “Destiny.” If Meng Huai knew, he’d question life.

Since he’d outed me, no need to hide. I feigned realization: “Oh, that. But what’s it got to do with ‘Black Flash’?”

Meng Huai didn’t suspect I leaked “Black Flash’s involvement.” I was a victim, not a planner, and “Black Flash” didn’t appear in the illusion. In his view, I had no chance to get that intel.

He called me to dig more through “Destiny.” As a member, I surely had ways to buy intel.

“There must be other ‘Destiny’ members in the academy. Why not ask them?” I didn’t believe only Wu Di and I were in “Endless Ability Academy.” As the nation’s top academy, [Manga Consciousness] must’ve recruited plenty.

They recruit from the future, knowing who’ll rise. Except plot-involved characters whose fate lines can’t be pre-altered, they’ve got the rest in their grasp.

True, but Meng Huai didn’t know who else was in “Destiny.” Someone did, but not him. He only knew about me.

“I just know you. Don’t you want to save them?” Meng Huai gave me no refusal room. If I refused now, it’d dent my class rapport.

Early on, I didn’t care—I didn’t need popularity. But now I do, so I must balance ties with the protagonist group.

From years of manga reading, I knew cold-hearted or protagonist-warmed personas both had fans, but they’re incompatible. Choosing one loses the other’s audience.

I didn’t want to lose either, so I chose distance—neither proactive nor dismissive. The scumbag mantra fits: don’t initiate, don’t refuse. I’d help if asked but avoid volunteering. Both audiences get explanations, and if they clash, I, the star, gain from the buzz.

“Fine, I’ll ask.” I shrugged, pulling the notebook from my storage ring.

“Destiny” notebooks were uniform; even mine, as leader, looked identical outwardly.

The inside was different—I had a backend interface capable of viewing all anonymous identities. Non-holders saw only a blank book.

Meng Huai, encountering a “Destiny” item for the first time, noticed I wasn’t hiding and peeked. Seeing only blankness while I pointed and tapped, he tried a magnifying glass-like item—still blank.

He gave up, sitting to wait.

I had nothing to handle—I started this. After fake tapping, I asked: “Connected. What do you want to know?”

Connected? Meng Huai’s eyes flashed surprise. He’d only wanted me to check intel, but I’d directly contacted the source?

He realized my “Destiny” status might be higher than he thought. Fair—a [Destiny Gear] user, young joiner, couldn’t be low-ranking.

Meng Huai felt amused and exasperated. What feng shui treasure was this first-year S-Class? “Black Flash” Saint, “Destiny” bigshot—how’d “Endless Ability Academy” attract them all?

“Where’d ‘Black Flash’ take them?” With a chance, Meng Huai asked the key question.

Great question—I wanted the answer too. Pretending to type, I preempted: “Suggest asking something answerable.”

If this could be answered, Sesbia would’ve asked already.

Meng Huai knew this; that was an appetizer. After my denial, he asked: “I heard ‘Black Flash’ was researching something. Did they get results?”

“Endless Ability Academy” knew “Black Flash” deeply—they weren’t just passive. They studied “Black Flash’s” goal: total Nightmare Beast extinction.

Their last retreat aimed at that goal, “Endless” had confirmed. Without that, the good guys would’ve struck when “Black Flash” was quiet.

Meng Huai asked this seemingly unrelated question because if their research failed, he believed they wouldn’t threaten Jiang Tianming and co.’s lives.

With no method to wipe out Nightmare Beasts, killing future world talents would let Nightmare Beasts dominate.

But if they succeeded, capturing students might be for using them as test subjects—or worse. Then, Jiang Tianming’s safety wasn’t guaranteed. Who knew “Black Flash’s” motives?

I knew this answer. After fake asking, I said: “Their research failed.”

Bad for humanity, good for Jiang Tianming’s group. Meng Huai relaxed: “I’ll tell the others. Keep asking for updates and inform me.”

Back in my dorm, I opened my phone, seeing Teacher Li’s message. Mu Yunfan and co. woke up—a healing Ability user brought a regular doctor friend.

The doctor, chatting at home, recognized their symptoms as food poisoning from saccharin and eggs combined.

Checks confirmed it—saccharin and eggs, both non-toxic, evaded Ability detection. With Ability enhancement, it caused days-long comas. “Saint Dante Ability Academy” wouldn’t dare kill—exposure would ban their academy.

Making players miss the competition? Blame the lead teacher. Even if others knew, so what? “Saint Dante’s” reputation was already bad—a bit worse didn’t matter. Placing first in the World competition brought real benefits—resource allocation for a year. A bad reputation was nothing compared to the possible benefits.

They didn’t expect “Endless Ability Academy’s” players to be comatose, but “Saint Dante’s” main team died, eliminated by “Endless’” forced reserves.

Had the main team participated, they wouldn’t have chased Mu Yunfan’s group, avoiding counter-kills. Even if they were teleported later, their strength ensured survival till then—with their life or death uncertain.

What goes around comes around—they doomed themselves.

The next few days were calm—for me. For others, it was thunderbolt after thunderbolt.

First, the competition disaster news spread—nearly a total wipeout. A bombshell.

These were top academy Ability users, future anti-Nightmare Beast forces. Their loss sparked safety fears.

Then, “Endless Ability Academy” pressured “Saint Dante,” listing evidence of their attacks this year and in the past against same-nation and other-nation teams, demanding the World Ability Federation punish them.

They’d been busy since Mu Yunfan’s incident, gathering evidence quietly. When they struck, it was a direct hit, giving no reaction time.

If they only acted against “Endless,” it’d be a two-academy issue—resulting in a two-to-three-year ban at most.

But involving many academies with solid evidence? Those academies weren’t pushovers. Without evidence, they’d let it go—but now with proof on the table, inaction would be cowardly.

Outrage erupted. Non-Ability academies demanded “Saint Dante’s” expulsion, stripping their title, banning recruitment.

For a regular academy, expulsion was fine. But “Saint Dante,” a perennial favorite, rivaled “Endless” in influence.

Like “Endless,” they had big shots in Ability roles, even in the World Ability Federation. Their nation didn’t want expulsion—more academies meant more resources.

Establishing an academy was tough—considering national Ability user “output” and conditions, plus real-world resistance. If “Saint Dante” was banned, no new academy could rise soon. For profit, they fought to block it.

Undoubtedly, “Endless” prevailed, resisting threats and bribes, refusing huge compensations, erasing “Saint Dante” from the Ability world.

“Teachers even asked if we’d let them off for compensation,” Zhang Sheng bragged in the student council office. “I refused instantly—I’d rather gain nothing than let those pests harm the Ability world!”

His righteous demeanor had new council underclassmen fawning, eyes full of admiration.

Wei Yuexi scoffed: “I recall someone was tempted? If we hadn’t all refused, someone might’ve agreed?”

“Who?” Zhang Sheng asked shamelessly. “He Shang?”

He Shang, falsely accused, clasped hands: “Amitabha, monks don’t lie.”

Framing a monk was absurd. Facing underclassmen’s doubting gazes, Zhang Sheng calmly pivoted: “Then Mu Yunfan—he was swayed by profit.”

“Wah! I’m your favorite president, aren’t I? How could you frame me?” Mu Yunfan cried, pink eyes theatrically disbelieving. “Manman, look at him! As the new president, you’ve got to handle this classmate slander!”

Feng Manman, reviewing documents, calmly adjusted her glasses, not looking up: “Frankly, you’re all graduated—it’s not my jurisdiction.”

They stayed at school because Jiang Tianming’s issue was unresolved. As main team targets, staying was safest.

“President, we’re still under you. Can you approve this application?” I asked, playing the good student.

Beside me, Qi Huang looked expectant. We’d arrived earlier, assessed the council’s state, then submitted the request.

Feng Manman glanced at our form—a leave request. Normally, summer break allowed leaving, but this incident complicated things.

“Why not ask your homeroom, Teacher Meng, right?” She showed no approval intent—she couldn’t leave, so how could she let others leave?

I answered logically: “Teacher Meng’s been busy. We haven’t seen him in two days. President, have mercy—we don’t want to be stuck here.”

No wonder Meng Huai was busy—it’s been days since Jiang Tianming’s disappearance, with no news. Everyone was searching. No news was good news—who knew if sudden updates were good or bad?

Feng Manman, hardened by Mu Yunfan and co., was unmoved: “No. Go back. If you’re bored, apply for gravity room training—I can approve that.”

I didn’t seek trouble, but I was keen on physical training. It’s the most reliable method, especially with my innate talent.

Why, with such talent, didn’t I awaken a physical Ability? Even a weak one would’ve been a hundred times better than [Gear Summon].

Sighing, I nodded: “Then please approve it, President.”

I couldn’t leave anyway—I might as well train. Second-years could finally use the gravity room; I’d make the most of it.

Qi Huang didn’t leave with me, asking: “Senior Manman, about applying for Secretary—can I consult you?”

“Of course,” Feng Manman finally looked up, a smile in her glasses-framed eyes. “I won’t cheat, but I’d be happy if you became my Secretary.”

Meanwhile, I, bored, browsed “Destiny” intel. Stuck at school for summer, it was my only thing to do.

I searched for “Black Flash” intel—no new info, but a bounty task to rescue the students. It offered a huge reward—Sesbia went all in.

The poster gained massive Points recently, likely uploading key intel for Sesbia.

I was pleased, and out of curiosity, checked their uploads via backend. Mostly Ability item info, some strong Ability secrets, and miscellaneous bits.

Two were useful to me. One: multi-Ability users’ Abilities often clashed; too many led to issues. Past triple-Ability users died from body explosion.

The solution? Simple yet hard. Sesbia’s Ability government research showed a space Ability could expand body capacity, letting it hold more Abilities.

The second: Yafei Kingdom’s guardian deity, Gao Di An Zhuo, was almost certainly a Nightmare Beast variant. Tests showed traits like Nightmare Beasts. But, since it was clearly non-hostile, even going as far as protecting Yafei humans, it wasn’t typical—likely another resentment type.

Sesbia speculated it was non-human resentment, thus not targeting humans. Or, human resentment but somehow not hostile.

Either way, Gao Di An Zhuo was a Nightmare Beast variant.

Knowing our next arc was likely Yafei Kingdom, and I had business with Gao Di An Zhuo, this intrigued me.

If it was a variant, great news. I aimed to learn about Nightmare Beast changes through it, and this raised the odds it knew something.

Speaking of changes, I’d forgotten to search “Destiny”’s database—my easiest shortcut.

Searching keywords, I hit paydirt with “Earth Element Nightmare Beast.” Someone asked my question: recently, more Earth Element Nightmare Beasts appeared—why?

For curiosity, the post offered few Points, so there was only one reply: “Don’t know, but here’s a lead. Nightmare Beast births, especially Element types, seem tied to their world. Heard it from a Nightmare Beast.”