The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 110: The Psychopath Killer [1]

Ethan—the psychopath killer.

That’s what they called him in the original novel.

And honestly? It fit.

But it wasn’t just killer. They had to add psychopath to it. Why? Because Ethan didn’t kill for revenge, or justice, or even survival.

He killed because he enjoyed it.

He was a pleasure killer. The kind of monster who smiled as he carved through twenty cadets like they were nothing more than disposable tools in one of his "special classes." He turned murder into performance art. Draped it in the language of education and growth.

It was never about punishment.

Never about madness, even if it looked like it.

It was about longing—a desperate, hollow craving to feel something again.

He hadn’t always been like that.

Once upon a time, Ethan was the academy’s golden instructor. A prodigy. Brilliant, charismatic. Students respected him. Admired him. Some even adored him.

And then... something broke.

One day he walked into class like normal.

The next, he locked the doors and turned it into a bloodbath.

The novel never explained why.

No trauma flashback. No tragic backstory.

Just silence.

And maybe that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Some monsters don’t need a motive. Some people just rot from the inside out and smile while doing it.

Ethan’s style of killing? Unique. And terrifying.

He didn’t just murder students.

He made them compete.

He’d force them to turn on each other, promising safety to the "winner." And then he’d kill them anyway. Even the survivors.

Especially the survivors.

To him, it was all a lesson—a test of who could abandon their morality the fastest.

He claimed the final prize was "the right not to become an adult," as if that meant something.

And then he’d smile... and take it away.

The insects were his signature. Poisonous things, warped by some unknown magic. The kind that didn’t just kill you—they transformed you. Bloating your body. Distorting your face. Making sure your last moments were ugly, inside and out.

It wasn’t just physical pain.

It was humiliation.

A complete dismantling of dignity.

And all the while, Ethan would speak in that calm, collected voice—spouting nonsense about pain being part of growth, about how sorrow and resentment were the true catalysts of youth.

As if any of that garbage justified the carnage.

As if he was doing us a favor.

Watching him now—smiling, hands folded behind his back like a kindly teacher—you’d never think this was the man who would later go on to be called the "Psychopath Killer" by the entire empire.

But I knew.

I knew exactly what he was capable of.

And I could feel the clock ticking down in my bones.

I wasn’t just fighting for Keira.

I was fighting to stop a story from repeating itself.

Even if that meant rewriting it with my own blood.

-----

3rd POV

Keira felt like her lungs had collapsed.

Ethan’s voice—smooth, calm, almost playful—echoed through the room like a whisper from the abyss.

The students were frozen. No one moved. No one even dared to breathe too loudly. Fear clung to the air like thick smoke.

Only Rin stood between them and the monster in front of the classroom.

Ethan turned away from the chalkboard, his hands clasped behind his back like a friendly instructor. "You all look like I just told you your parents died," he said, amused. "Come now, cadets. I thought you wanted to learn."

His grin widened, and Rin took a step forward—keeping his stance defensive, his hand subtly tightening around the pest repellent device.

That thing only had a minute of charge left, maybe less.

Still, Rin didn’t flinch.

Ethan’s gaze landed on him. "You, Cadet Rin Evans. Still playing the hero?"

"Shut up you basterd," Rin replied sharply.

Ethan chuckled. "Ah,So brave. So... predictable."

He began pacing slowly, as though delivering a lecture. "You know, I wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, I was the golden child of the Academy. I gave real lessons. I got applause. Admiration."

He stopped at the window, staring out into the overcast sky.

"But admiration means nothing when you’re screaming into a void. You teach and teach and teach, and in the end? They forget you. Because all they ever really want is power."

"You killed people," one of the students whispered, voice trembling.

Ethan turned toward her with a soft smile. "And they learned so much. They learned fear. Desperation. Sacrifice."

Keira felt her knees shake. Her fists clenched tight around the hem of her skirt.

She had bullied people. Lied. Spread rumors. But she had never seen something like this before.

This wasn’t just evil.

It was twisted logic dressed in the skin of a teacher.

And yet... the scariest part was how calm Ethan looked. Like he believed this was right.

Rin’s jaw clenched. His eyes didn’t leave Ethan for even a second.

He knew this story.

He knew exactly who Ethan was.

Ethan, the psychopath killer.

The man who turned cadets into unwilling participants in a death game just to watch them betray each other. Who offered the "right to never become an adult" as a mock reward—only to kill the winner in the end.

Rin stepped slightly back, just enough to shield Keira with his body.

"You said this is a lesson," he said, his voice low. "What are we learning right now?"

Ethan grinned. "We’re learning about human nature, Rin Evans. About masks. About who will kneel to survive and who will fight and lose."

"And what about you?" Rin asked. "What did you learn when you became this monster?"

Ethan’s grin froze for a second.

Then, slowly, he laughed. "I learned that pain is the only thing real. That when I strip away your dreams, your future, and your sense of self... what’s left behind is the truth."

His eyes glittered with that same terrible hunger. "And you, Keira... you were so proud, so confident. So cruel to others. How does it feel now, being the one waiting for mercy?"

Keira swallowed hard. Her legs wouldn’t move. Her mouth wouldn’t open.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.

But all she could do was stare at Ethan... and then at Rin.

Rin, who stood in front of her despite knowing this could all go wrong.

Despite the fact that she’d been awful to him before.

Despite everything.

Why?

Her chest ached, and not from fear—but from the unfamiliar sting of guilt.

"Let’s continue," Ethan said smoothly, stepping away from the window with an air of relaxed amusement. "We’re just getting to the part where everyone starts pointing fingers. But since someone decided to interrupt my class—" he turned his gaze toward Rin, "—I’ll have to deal with him first."

His tone was almost casual, like a teacher mildly scolding a student for speaking out of turn. But everyone in the room could feel the undercurrent of violence in his words. The monster in him was always lurking, just behind the grin.

"You know, Cadet Rin Evans," Ethan began again, "I’ve heard you’re quite capable. Impressive, even. But what exactly are you planning to do with that toy in your hand? Just... stall me indefinitely?"

He gestured vaguely to the pest repellent device Rin held—a thin tube faintly glowing green.

Ethan cocked his head, as if genuinely curious. "Even if you called for backup, that little thing won’t last much longer. That level of output will drain it quickly. So, tell me—what do you think will happen first? Your backup bursting in here to save the day, or you losing that thing and having a fun little class session with me?"

Rin didn’t answer right away.

"That’s not something you need to worry about," he said finally, his tone calm, but his grip on the device tight.

Ethan’s eyes lit up in amusement. "Ah, you’re right. I suppose I was just curious. After all, even if you did manage to slip inside, this is a hidden room. Sealed. You know how that works, right? It’d be quite difficult for anyone to find you. Especially when the password changed the moment you entered."

"Really?" Rin asked, raising a brow.

Of course he knew.

While sprinting down the corridor, he had already sent the old passwords and entrance route to several people—people he trusted to come looking. Assuming they weren’t totally useless.

Ethan stared at him for a second. Rin didn’t flinch.

"Hmm," Ethan muttered. "Judging by your lack of panic, you must’ve made some preparations after all. That’s good. It makes things more fun."

Then—flicker.

The device in Rin’s hand dimmed for a moment.

He glanced down.

The repellent’s magic light wavered, stuttering like a dying ember.

Shit.

He had maybe thirty seconds left—if he was lucky.

Around them, the faint skittering of insect legs echoed through the floor. Like they were waiting. Listening. Knowing.

Rin didn’t move.

Keira’s breathing hitched behind him. The other cadets backed toward the wall, eyes wide, some silently crying, others frozen stiff. Everyone was waiting for Rin to make a move. Any move.

Ethan noticed it too. He smiled, like a cat watching a trapped mouse realize it had no hole to run to.

"Well, Rin Evans," he said softly, "shall we see what kind of hero you really are?"