Just An Extra

Harry lifted a hand and pointed to a small island in the middle of the pond. A lone tree stood at its center, its branches twisted like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. Beneath it, a single flower rested against the roots—delicate, untouched.

"That flower," Harry said, his voice light, almost casual. "We need it for the extra points."

Max's eyes drifted to the water, its glassy surface rippling ever so slightly. Beneath it, a shadow moved. Slow. Patient. The outline was massive—coiling, shifting just beneath the surface.

A sea monster.

Of course.

"You've noticed it, haven't you?" Harry continued. "We need a distraction to grab the points."

Max didn't respond. He already knew what was coming.

'They're going to leave me.'

He let the silence drag for a moment, then exhaled. "Uh… is it possible for me to say no?"

Harry's smile didn't fade. If anything, it widened. "Why would you decline?"

Behind him, Max heard Richard shift—just slightly. Not a full step. Just enough to prepare.

Harry tilted his head, red hair catching the light. "Shouldn't a lower rank bow down?"

'Oh my god…'

Max forced his expression into something neutral. Maybe even reluctant. "Okay… it's not like I can fight you anyway."

Harry's grin stretched. "Perfect. Let's go."

Richard moved first, rushing into the water without hesitation. Harry followed, his boots splashing against the shallows.

Max stayed where he was.

"Hold on," he said, crouching down. He let his fingers sink into the damp earth, gathering a handful of sand. "I need a moment to mentally prepare."

Harry scoffed. "What's there to prepare for? You just gotta go be bai—"

Max moved.

His dagger was in his hand before the sentence finished, his body already shifting forward.

The blade found Richard's throat in one swift motion. A clean, practiced thrust, straight through the windpipe.

Richard's eyes widened. He let out a choked sound before crumpling into the water, blood spilling in thick, red ribbons across the surface.

At the same time, Max flicked his wrist. The handful of sand exploded into Harry's face.

Harry staggered back with a snarl, hands flying to his eyes. "YOU—"

Max didn't let him finish.

He stepped in and drove his second dagger into Harry's neck.

A sharp, wet gurgle. The fight was over before it even started.

Harry collapsed, clutching at his throat, his body twitching for a few moments before finally going still.

Max exhaled, his breath shaky as he watched the blood swirl into the water, tendrils of red unraveling into the deep. It spread slowly at first—then faster, devoured by the currents, pulled into the depths where the sea monster waited.

'It's not real.'

He clenched his jaw. His fingers felt numb. His body still tingled with the ghost of the last movement, the final thrust, the way the blade had slid in so easily.

'It's not real.'

His thoughts pressed against his skull, circling, tightening.

'It's not real. It's not real. Oh my god, it feels so real.'

He looked down at his hands. A faint tremor ran through his fingers.

'I killed someone. I killed multiple people.'

His stomach twisted. He forced himself to breathe—deep, slow. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Again. His heartbeat steadied, though the hollow feeling in his chest didn't fade.

A minute passed. Maybe more.

Then, finally, he spoke, voice hoarse. "Okay… okay… I need to get the flower."

His eyes shifted to the bodies.

Harry's corpse lay twisted where it had fallen, his lifeless eyes still half-open, frozen in an expression of shock. Richard's wasn't much better—his throat an open ruin, blood pooling around his collar.

Max swallowed.

He stepped forward and grabbed Harry's body.

"Jesus…" he muttered under his breath. The weight was heavier than he expected. 

With a grunt, he hoisted it up and threw it into the pond. The splash was loud, too loud. It sent ripples racing across the surface.

The shadow below stirred.

Max didn't stop to watch. He turned and did the same to Richard, his grip firm but mechanical, as if detaching himself from what he was doing would make it easier.

Another splash. Another ripple.

Then the water erupted.

A massive shape lunged up from beneath, its jagged mouth splitting wide as it clamped down on the first corpse. Bones cracked, flesh tore, and in seconds, the body was gone—dragged beneath the surface in a violent swirl of blood and teeth.

Max watched for a moment, waiting, calculating.

The monster's attention was elsewhere now.

He sprinted forward and dove into the water.

Cold.

It bit into his skin, sent a shock through his limbs, but he pushed forward, arms cutting through the surface as he swam hard, fast. The island wasn't far. A dozen strokes. Maybe less.

His feet hit the shallows, and he scrambled onto the shore, dripping, heart pounding.

There it was. The flower.

Bright blue, petals delicate, speckled with hints of green.

Max reached out—

The moment his fingers touched it, the flower shimmered, then dissolved into nothing.

A chime echoed in his head.

(Maximus Augustus +1 point. Pond Trial. Group points: 5.)

Max let out a breath, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes.

'Nice. Now Justin won't have any reason to be mad at me.'

Another notification appeared.

(Teammate Justin Steele has died. Group points: 4.)

Max stared.

Then blinked.

"…C'mon. Really?" he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. "That's kinda embarrassing."

He turned back toward the water. The monster had finished its meal, the surface of the pond calm once more.

"Okay..." Max mumbled, glancing at the timer.

(Time remaining: 20 minutes.)

He exhaled through his nose. "Haven't seen any monsters besides the trial one... Guess it's smooth sailing."

Still, he didn't slow down.

The forest stretched around him, dense and shifting, shadows creeping between the trees as the light dimmed. He kept moving, weaving through the undergrowth with no set direction—just enough to stay unpredictable. If anyone was tracking him, they'd have a hard time keeping up.

A soft chime echoed in his mind.

(Teammate Finnian has died. Group points: 3.)

Max glanced at the notification, his face unreadable.

"At this rate, we might finish exactly in the middle," he muttered.

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of the forest, it felt louder than it should have. He adjusted his grip on his dagger and kept moving.

The trees began to thin. The air grew crisper, cooler. Then, after another few minutes, the ground sloped upward, leading him to the edge of a cliff.

Max stepped forward, boots scraping against the rock.

Below, a vast mountain range stretched before him, jagged peaks cutting into the horizon like the teeth of some ancient beast. Rivers of mist coiled through the valleys, their silvery tendrils shifting as the wind carried them. The mountains had a strange beauty to them—both haunting and serene, as if untouched by time.

For a moment, Max just stood there, taking it in.

Then he checked the timer again.

(Time remaining: 3 minutes.)

The sun was setting, half of it hidden behind a massive peak. The sky burned in hues of orange and deep violet, casting long shadows over the terrain.

Max let out a slow breath.

Ding!

(Time left: 00:00:00. Congratulations on completing the test. You will be logged out of the capsule.)

Swoosh.

The world faded.

When Max opened his eyes, he was in a stark white room, the sterile brightness almost blinding after the dim hues of the simulation. His muscles tensed instinctively before his mind caught up. He wasn't in the forest anymore. He wasn't on that cliff.

He was back.

His gaze flickered around. Four other students stood in the room, looking just as dazed as he felt.

'Only four others?'

His mind ran through the possibilities.

'Did only five people survive in my area? No… They probably got transferred to another zone. Or maybe not many were placed in my sector to begin with.'

A voice cut through his thoughts.

"Can you guys hear me?" Luka's voice echoed from the ceiling, calm and authoritative. "Congratulations on finishing the test. It was designed to measure your survivability in unfamiliar environments—to see how well you could adapt when left on your own. Whether it was through luck, scheming, or pure strength, at the end of the day, you lasted the full hour. So hold your head high."

A pause. Then—

"The group rankings will be displayed on the monitor."

Swoosh.

A screen flickered to life on the wall, but Max barely spared it a glance.

"Yikes…" he muttered, exhaling as he removed the VR headset. The moment it lifted off his head, exhaustion slammed into him like a brick wall. His limbs felt heavier, his thoughts sluggish.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Is this what VR feels like all the time?"

Shaking off the fatigue, Max stepped out of the capsule—only to immediately feel six sets of eyes lock onto him.

The weight of their gazes pressed down on him. He glanced at his groupmates, reading their expressions—relief, disappointment… and fear?

Fear?

His brows furrowed.

'Why are they looking at me like that?'

A feeling crawled up his spine, an instinct honed from experience. Slowly, he turned—

And met Justin's eyes.

The guy was staring daggers at him, jaw tight, shoulders rigid.

Max didn't flinch. Didn't react. But internally, the pieces clicked.

'He's mad.'

Max's thoughts ran cold.

'But I survived. I even got an extra point. Why is he looking at me like that?'

Then it hit him.

'He thinks I stole his spotlight.'

"Congratulations to those who passed," Luka's voice carried across the room, even and controlled. "I'll make this quick—your group's ranking is displayed on the monitor. Take a look and see where you stand."

Max's gaze flicked to the screen.

Collin's group—1st place.

Takahiro's group—2nd.

Skylar's—6th.

Evelynn's—7th.

Ophelia… in Takahiro's group.

Then his own.

'11th place.'

Max exhaled through his nose.

'A little below average.'

'Not terrible. Not great. Just… forgettable. Which, all things considered, was probably for the best.'

Luka continued, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Last year, nine groups had no survivors. This year, we only had eight. Feel free to use this as bragging rights." He let that sit for a moment before adding, "And no—whoever finished last won't be kicked out. I only said that to give you all a little motivation."

A few students let out relieved sighs. Others, the more competitive ones, looked annoyed.

"Class dismissed."

Max was already moving before Luka had finished speaking.

The weight of lingering stares burned at his back, but he didn't acknowledge them. Instead, he kept his pace even, calculated—not hurried, but purposeful.

The moment he reached the changing rooms, he did move faster. Stripping off the academy-issued gear, he swapped into his uniform, rolled his shoulders, and pulled open the door.

The halls were mostly empty. Good.

Keeping his head down, Max walked with quiet efficiency, slipping through the corridors with the ease of someone who didn't want to be noticed.

By the time he reached his dorm, he stepped inside, shut the door, and leaned against it, exhaling.

Silence.

For the first time since the test ended, Max allowed himself a moment to breathe.

Then, without another thought, he locked the door.