The Transmigrator Doesn’t Dream of Being the Protagonist – Chapter 10

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Anya donned a good-natured grin.

But as the saying goes, the quiet ones are always the most dangerous.

“I hate to interrupt, but I believe one of the rules mentioned earlier was ‘no bullying your classmates,’” she said pointedly.

Earlier?

Oh, right, the headmaster had mentioned it during his speech.

Please, just leave, I pleaded silently, sending her a telepathic message to back off.

But Anya, as usual, missed the cue.

She had probably never had to worry about reading social cues in her life.

She was, after all, the daughter of the Kargon tribe’s chieftain.

Sepia pressed her lips together, a habit she had whenever she was displeased.

“Friends? Who said we were friends?”

“…And if we’re not friends, then what are we?”

“Ethan and I have a master-servant relationship.”

“But Ethan is my friend.” Anya shrugged.

I was touched.

Go, Anya! Put that stuck-up Sepia in her place!

Anya Punch! Anya Punch! Anya Punch!

I was suddenly her biggest cheerleader.

“Ethan is mine. He belongs to me.”

“Hmm, that’s strange. I was under the impression that slavery was abolished in the empire.”

“It’s not like that! A master has the right to express dissatisfaction with their servant. It’s a form of constructive criticism. Ugh, why am I even explaining this? The point is, Ethan is my servant.”

Anya blinked, processing her words.

“So he’s not yours. Mind your own business.” Sepia’s voice dripped with disdain.

She ran a hand through her hair, her frustration evident.

I had to step in.

“Anya, my lady and I need to talk. Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Oh… Sure, no problem. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” she said, her tone reassuring.

She was a good friend. Reliable and supportive.

With Anya gone, I turned to face Sepia.

Silence stretched between us.

She stared at me, her eyes narrowed.

“You’re a jerk.”

Shove.

She pushed me, her shoulder connecting with my chest.

And then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

At least she hadn’t used her telekinesis on me.

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Later that night, I returned to my dormitory room, utterly exhausted.

Sepia and Sylvia had both been relentless today.

Dealing with those two sadists was draining.

I sighed, collapsing onto my bed after a long, hot shower.

I needed money if I wanted to gain independence from Sepia.

It would be better for both of us.

Honestly, trying to please someone as demanding as Sepia was exhausting.

Besides, I wasn’t supposed to be entangled with her in the first place. My presence was already disrupting the original plot.

It was time to put my third plan into action.

The Adventurer’s Guild had something called “Adventurer Stocks.”

It made sense, considering this world was a strange blend of medieval and 19th-century elements.

Even in Newton’s time, stocks had existed.

I suddenly remembered Newton’s famous quote, uttered after losing a fortune in the stock market.

“I can calculate the motion of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people.”

Wise words, indeed.

But in this world, there were certain stocks that were guaranteed to make you money, as long as the story progressed as planned.

I knew which guilds would discover new dungeons.

And I knew which ones would succeed in conquering them.

I would withdraw my investments from the guilds that were destined to fail before they embarked on their doomed expeditions. And for the guilds that would ultimately succeed, I would hold onto my stocks until after they had claimed their riches.

Perfect.

I scribbled down a list of potential investments, meticulously planning my strategy.

Ten minutes later, I had a comprehensive list of short-term and long-term investments, complete with dates, investment amounts, and expected returns.

It was time to invest all of Ethan’s hard-earned savings.

Well, not all of it. I needed to keep some for living expenses.

Eighty percent should be enough.

“Ethan?”

Arthur approached me, his expression hesitant.

I casually closed my notebook and turned to face him.

His eyes were filled with uncertainty.

Honestly, I had no interest in a man’s emotional struggles.

But he seemed to have made up his mind. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“I have a feeling… that I can trust you. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Something… strange happened to me after I became a Hero Candidate.”

Ah, so it was about his status window.

He was revealing his secret so easily?

In the original story, Arthur had kept the existence of his status window a secret from everyone.

Well, in the original story, he hadn’t had a roommate. He had faced the demons alone, his only companions a group of bickering harem members.

It was understandable that he hadn’t trusted anyone with his secret.

“Strange, you say?” I prompted.

“Well… Did you receive a skill window?”

I nodded.

Everyone received a skill window after enrolling in the academy.

Arthur hesitated, struggling to find the right words.

How had I managed to endure over 300 chapters of this frustrating protagonist?

But as they say, patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.

I had to be patient if I wanted to gain the trust of our dear, clueless protagonist.

Arthur was still grappling with the implications of his status window.

“Well, I… I got some other windows, too. A status window, a quest window, and an inventory window.”

“Really? That sounds strange. How do they work?”

Arthur explained everything.

He had a status window with stats he could allocate points to, making him stronger.

He was confused, unsure of what it all meant.

I listened patiently, nodding along, pretending to be surprised, even though, as a reader, I knew everything.

“So, if what you’re saying is true, you have the potential to become incredibly strong,” I said.

“I… think so?”

“Arthur, why do you think you were given these abilities?”

“I’ve been thinking about it… Maybe it’s a gift from the Goddess?”

I nodded sagely.

It was his destiny. His role as the protagonist in this messed-up world.

“With great power comes great responsibility, Arthur. If the Goddess has bestowed these abilities upon you, it means you have the potential to be this world’s protector.”

He was the one who had to deal with the Demon Generals and the Demon Kings.

Ordinary extras like me shouldn’t have to risk their lives for world peace.

Our protagonist was destined to become a legendary hero, known throughout the land as the Sword Saint.

“Therefore you, Arthur, must become the protector of this world, Artarian.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, as if he had received a divine revelation.

He nodded slowly.

“If that’s true… then I’ll do it. I’ll fight for the peace of this world.”

I felt a twinge of guilt, like a manipulative villain who had just tricked his naive friend.

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Going back to school was a nightmare.

And, of course, I was stuck attending classes with Arthur.

Damn it.

Arthur seemed impressed by my words of wisdom.

He had practically adopted me as his best friend.

We walked to class together, chatting about mundane things.

I had been a fool.

I should have weighed the pros and cons before getting involved with the protagonist.

We entered the classroom and took our seats.

One thing that set “Dragon-strongest” apart from other academy-themed web novels was the amount of time dedicated to classes.

Of course, Neydia Academy was structured like a university. We were free to choose our own courses.

But my choices were limited.

I had to start from the basics if I wanted to become stronger.

One of the reasons Arthur had become so powerful was his unwavering dedication to mastering the fundamentals.

The author had even mentioned it in one of his afterword notes: “Building a strong foundation is essential for growth.”

Most students skipped the introductory courses.

They were considered too easy, too boring.

Most of the students who enrolled in the academy were already highly skilled.

But our diligent protagonist, Arthur, had diligently attended every single class, mastering the basics.

He had never been late, never skipped a lesson.

And through his unwavering dedication, he had stumbled upon hidden insights, unlocking his true potential.

That’s how he had become the ultimate all-rounder.

A one-man army, capable of dealing damage, tanking hits, healing his allies, and providing support.

Mastering all aspects of the academy curriculum had transformed him into a versatile and formidable fighter.

The classroom door opened, and a petite mage entered.

She walked to the podium with short, quick steps.

“Greetings, everyone. I’m Cassia von Radier, and I’ll be your instructor for ‘Fundamentals of Resistance Acquisition.’”

Polite applause filled the room.

“Ah, it seems I’ll be spending the semester with a group of exceptionally talented individuals.”

Cassia smiled.

Then, in a clear and concise voice, she continued her introduction.

She was known as “Witch Cassia” among the students, a moniker that inspired both awe and fear.

Her classes were notorious, and as a result, her class sizes were smaller than those of other instructors.

The reason for her unpopularity?

“Today’s lesson is on acquiring poison resistance.”

It was quite simple, really.

She made her students drink poison.

And poison wasn’t the only thing she subjected them to.

She froze them, burned them, stabbed them with knives, forced them to inflict pain upon themselves, even used mind-altering magic.

Only a true masochist would willingly enroll in her classes.

In the real world, a teacher who forced their students to consume poison would be making headlines.

I had found it amusing when I had read about it in the novel.

But now?

“Why do we need to drink poison, you ask?”

Cassia giggled, her smile unsettling.

“You, there, the handsome student sitting next to the other handsome student.”

She pointed at me.

Arthur’s protagonist aura was drawing unwanted attention.

And I was caught in the crossfire.

“Many monsters possess poisonous abilities. It’s essential to develop a resistance to poison before embarking on real-world missions,” I replied, my voice steady.

Cassia clapped her hands together.

“That’s right! Many monsters are poisonous. You might be thinking, ‘Why not just use an antidote?’”

She stretched out her arms, exaggerating her movements.

“But imagine this: you’re on a mission, facing a horde of demons and monsters in a hostile environment. And you encounter a poisonous creature! But you’re out of antidotes! What will you do? You’re as good as dead!”

Our esteemed professor launched into a passionate explanation of the importance of poison resistance.

Sometimes, she argued, you might encounter a poison that requires prolonged treatment.

Or you might be stranded in the wilderness, forced to consume unknown mushrooms with no way to determine their toxicity.

A hero, lost and alone in the mountains, forced to eat poisonous mushrooms?

It was too pathetic for words.

“Now imagine you have complete immunity to poison! You wouldn’t have to worry about it at all.”

I was reminded of the chemical warfare training I had endured in the military.

“And this class will teach you how to build resistance to all sorts of things: fire, ice, lightning, poison, mental attacks, physical damage… the list goes on.”

Building fire resistance by getting burned repeatedly?

In the real world, that was impossible.

But this was a world based on a game.

Thanks to the Heart of Winter, my resistance to fire and ice was already maxed out.

But I lacked resistance to poison, lightning, mental attacks, and physical damage.

This class, despite its unorthodox methods, would definitely improve my chances of survival.

“Enough talk! Time for a practical demonstration!”

Cassia waved her hand, and dozens of purple vials materialized in the air.

They floated towards us, each vial landing gently on a desk.

“Drink up, everyone! Let’s see if we can achieve complete poison immunity!”

The witch giggled, her demeanor childlike.

Drinking poison until we achieved immunity?

I already felt nauseous.

“Please let me know if you experience any adverse effects. We’ll be working in pairs. Drink up, and we’ll observe your reactions for ten minutes.”

I was paired with Arthur, of course.

A vial of purple liquid sat before us.

She really expected us to drink this?

The vial even had a skull and crossbones on it.

You know what they say.

“You don’t die when you’re forgotten. You die when you drink poison.”

“Ethan, want to decide who goes first with a game of rock-paper-scissors?”

I nodded.

Rock, paper, scissors!

I lost.

Regret washed over me.

I was starting to regret signing up for this class.

Three hours of drinking poison?

“Use the dropper to measure out five milliliters and pour it into the small glass. Then drink it. Your partner will observe your reaction.”

I carefully measured out the poison, my hand trembling slightly.

Then, closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and swallowed the purple liquid.

To think I had become a poison-drinking guinea pig.

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