An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

His tone was polite, but his smirk made it clear that he wasn't taking Sean's words seriously at all.

Sean didn't catch the underlying sarcasm, but Arthur's next words—muttered just low enough so that only he could hear—carried an ominous edge.

"Guidance, huh? I'll make sure to give you some guidance you'll never forget for the rest of your life."

Without waiting for a response, Arthur made the first move.

He surged forward, his sword cutting through the air like a flash of silver.

However, Sean simply swung his sword lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. He wasn't taking Arthur seriously at all.

Arthur quickly saw through his plan—Sean was trying to lure him in, likely waiting for the perfect moment to trap him with an overwhelming attack. Instead of rushing in recklessly, Arthur adjusted his footwork, elongating his steps just enough to make it seem like he was closing the distance while actually maintaining a safe range.

He knew exactly how fighters like Sean operated. They relied on brute strength, aiming to overpower their opponents with a grand, decisive strike. The trick was simple—drag out the fight and let them waste their energy on an all-out move they couldn't easily repeat.

Sean, noticing Arthur's reluctance to engage directly, grew impatient.

"Tch. Stop running around and fight me properly!" he snarled, slamming his sword down with a powerful vertical slash.

Arthur had anticipated this. Sean had infused his sword with mana, making his attack even heavier, clearly expecting Arthur to block it head-on. If Arthur blocked, he would be forced to endure the full force of the strike, and if he dodged, the shockwave alone would likely stagger him.

A dangerous move—but not for Arthur.

As Sean's blade descended, Arthur's dark eyes glinted coldly.

In an instant, he channeled his own mana, sharpening his reaction speed to its peak. Instead of blocking outright, he unleashed a flurry of rapid slashes, expertly intercepting and dispersing the force of Sean's attack before it could fully land.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each swing neutralized a portion of the impact, and by the time the last strike clashed, the overwhelming force of Sean's attack had been entirely dismantled.

Sean's sword was coated in a dense layer of blue mana, clashing head-on with Arthur's blade, which shimmered faintly with a golden haze. At first glance, it seemed like an even fight, but the reality was different.

Sean may have had the advantage in raw strength, but Arthur's superior experience and solid foundation completely outclassed him. Unlike Sean, who relied purely on brute force, Arthur's mastery of swordplay allowed him to dismantle his opponent's attacks with precise movements.

Moreover, Arthur held another edge—psychological pressure. While Sean fought desperately to maintain his pride, Arthur remained calm, unfazed by anything his opponent threw at him.

BOOM!

A massive shockwave erupted from their clash, even stronger than before. The force of their exchange was enough to bend the training swords they were using. Yet, Sean, in his blind frustration, ignored it and still tried to attack with his deformed blade.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh.

Enough of this.

He had indulged this fight long enough, hoping to gain some insight into his swordsmanship. But against someone like Sean—who charged in headfirst like a mindless bull—there was nothing to be gained. Dragging this out any further was pointless.

His eyes sharpened.

In one swift move, Arthur locked Sean's bent sword with his own, preventing him from making another reckless strike. Then, with a powerful kick to the torso, he sent Sean stumbling backward.

Now.

Reclaiming his sword from the lock, Arthur poured his mana into the blade, its golden haze intensifying. Without hesitation, he aimed his sword at Sean's neck.

But before the blow could land, Lucas stepped in, halting the strike just inches from its target.

Swish!

A powerful surge of wind erupted from where Arthur stood, the sheer pressure from his attack enough to send a wave through the air. Although the blade stopped at the last moment, the force behind it knocked Sean back, nearly sending him to the ground.

Sweat drenched Sean's back as he stumbled, his chest heaving in rapid breaths. He could hardly process what had just happened—Arthur's attack had been so precise, so calculated, it felt like a near miss with death. The few inches between them now felt like the very boundary between life and death.

Arthur retracted his sword with a casual motion, turning to walk off the arena. He had made his move with the thought that Sean might try to counter, putting almost half his strength into the strike. But killing wasn't the goal—it was simply a warning, a display of the gap between them.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as Arthur walked away, his calm demeanor sending ripples through the onlookers. There was no question that his attack had been lethal if left unchecked, and yet he appeared completely unfazed by it.

Lucas observed the scene carefully. He saw Arthur's humble expression and realized something—it wasn't that Arthur was trying to intimidate or show off; he didn't even seem to fully understand just how overwhelming his final attack had been.

Even a peak advanced swordsman would have struggled to defend against that kind of attack.

Lucas was momentarily stunned, watching Arthur unleash such strength despite his young age. But after a brief pause, he started clapping. One by one, others followed, their cheers growing louder.

The fight had been nothing short of extraordinary, earning Arthur the respect of everyone present.

Arthur felt a bit embarrassed at first by the sudden applause, but the feeling quickly faded, replaced by a sense of quiet pride. He was no stranger to being the center of attention.

The intensity of the battle had made everyone momentarily forget a crucial fact—Arthur was just a first-year student who had only just submitted his application to join the club.

Before stepping down from the stage, Arthur turned back. He looked toward the instructor who had been supervising the match.

"Did I pass?" he asked.

The instructor, still caught up in the spectacle he had just witnessed, hesitated for a moment.

"You passed," Lucas answered instead, stepping forward and making his way onto the stage.

Standing in front of Arthur, he patted his shoulder with an approving nod.

"Man, you're something else. You dominated the entire fight. Not once did it seem like you were struggling," Lucas said with a grin.

"You should be proud of what you've accomplished."

Arthur gave a polite nod. "Thank you, senior."

Arthur gave a polite bow to Sean before stepping down from the stage.

Some students admired his courage, but others wore stiff expressions. Many among them were filled with pride and ego—how could they accept that a first-year had come in and completely dominated one of their own?

Still, they had no choice but to swallow their frustration and act as if nothing had happened. However, their expressions twisted in annoyance when they noticed something else—Arthur's overwhelming victory had inspired an influx of new applicants.

Now, students who were previously hesitant, even those with lower ranks, were eagerly trying to join the club, following Arthur's example.

The senior members sneered, casting irritated glances at Arthur. Thanks to him, they'd have to deal with an overwhelming number of sparring requests.

Arthur ignored their stares.
Stay connected via empire

'Who in their right mind would waste time arguing with these fools?' he thought.

The only way to make them acknowledge someone was to beat the arrogance out of them. That was the language they understood best.

Because of Arthur's performance, an unexpected shift occurred within the club.

Many first-years who had come to join now requested sparring matches, and the number of challenges skyrocketed compared to previous years.

In the past, lower-ranked students rarely requested spars. And if they did, they usually lost so miserably that it discouraged others from following their path. But this year was different. The very foundation of the club had been shaken after one of its senior members had been utterly crushed.

Even students with beginner ranks stepped forward, eager to prove that they were not inferior to Arthur. Unfortunately for them, the seniors, now taking these challenges far more seriously, responded with brutal efficiency. Unlike in previous years, they no longer held back, mercilessly defeating any junior who dared step up.

The club instructor already felt a headache coming on.

The only thing he could do now was hope that these enthusiastic newcomers would eventually give up after witnessing their fellow first-years being beaten down.

Arthur was on his way back to his dorm after finishing his business when a thought crossed his mind. Instead of heading straight back, he decided to check out the happenings in some of the other clubs.

However, before he could take another step, a sudden voice called out to him.

"Arthur!"

He turned to see Althea rushing toward him, her expression filled with urgency.

"Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How can I calm down when the Saintess is missing?!" Althea blurted out, her voice barely steady.

"What?!" Arthur's eyes widened.