The Extra's Reincarnation

"You wanted to talk to me?" she finally prompted, her golden eyes studying him with quiet intensity.

Julian nodded and started to rise from his chair. "Yes, I needed to ask you—"

"…!"

A sharp pain lanced through Julian's side as he tried to stand.

His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor with a pained grunt, narrowly missing the corner of his desk.

"Julian!" Elenore's voice cut through the haze of pain as she rushed to his side, her usual composure giving way to genuine alarm. She knelt beside him, her golden eyes wide with concern. "You shouldn't be out of the infirmary. Let me help you."

She reached for his arm, but Julian shook his head, trying to wave her away despite the tremors running through his body.

"I'm fine," he insisted through gritted teeth, though the pallor of his face and the cold sweat breaking out across his forehead told a different story.

"Just... give me a moment."

Using the nearby desk for support, Julian hauled himself up, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. His breathing came in shallow gasps, each inhalation sending fresh waves of pain through his broken ribs.

"Has Marcel spoken with you recently?" he asked abruptly, his eyes fixed on the floor as he fought to remain upright.

Elenore blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed his words, a flicker of something—confusion, perhaps—passing across her face.

"Marcel?" She tilted her head, studying Julian with renewed interest. "No, we haven't spoken since the Capture the Flag match. Why do you ask?" There was a hint of curiosity in her tone, tinged with something that might have been amusement. "Are you... concerned about him talking to me?"

Julian's head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers. He searched her face, looking for any sign of deception or hidden meaning, but found only genuine puzzlement. No rejection, no emotional aftermath, no sign that Marcel had confessed at all.

"You're serious," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "He hasn't approached you."

Another deviation from the timeline. Marcel should have confessed by now, setting in motion a chain of events that would shape relationships throughout their first year. Without that catalyst...

"It's nothing," Julian said, straightening as much as his injuries would allow. "Forget I mentioned it. I should get back to the infirmary."

He took a tentative step away from the desk, his hand reluctantly releasing its death grip on the wooden edge. The room tilted alarmingly, but he forced himself to remain upright through sheer willpower.

"Wait." Elenore's voice stopped him before he could take another step. Her tone was different now—softer, yet somehow more commanding.

"You're in no condition to walk back to the infirmary alone."

She moved to stand before him, her golden eyes meeting his with quiet determination.

"Let me heal you."

She reached for his arm, and a soft golden light emanated from her palms, bathing his injured side in its warmth.

HWAM...

The throbbing ache began to recede, replaced by a soothing coolness.

He could feel the tension leaving his muscles, the sharp edges of pain softening into a dull hum. It wasn't a complete fix, but the debilitating agony had lessened significantly.

He felt stable enough to stand without immediately collapsing.

"Thank you," Julian said, his voice still a little rough but much stronger.

"That really made a difference. I... I owe you one."

Elenore smiled, a gentle, radiant expression.

"You don't owe me anything, Julian. I find joy in helping others."

Typical future Saintess, Julian thought.

He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect.

"Thank you again, Elenore."

He pushed himself to his feet, this time with more steadiness.

"Are you heading back now?" Elenore asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

"No," Julian replied, a small, almost involuntary smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks to you, I think I can manage without it. Though... I'm not entirely sure what class to go to. I haven't exactly chosen my subjects yet."

Elenore's eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh, right! You arrived a week late. Well..."

"Why don't you come to the class I'm heading to right now?"

"Which one is that?" Julian asked.

"Magic History," Elenore replied, already turning towards the door.

"It's fascinating, and the Professor teaching the subject is wonderful. Come on!"

Julian hesitated for a moment but the genuine kindness in Elenore's eyes, and the simple practicality of having a guide, won him over.

He nodded and followed her out of the room.

***

[Julian's POV]

The Magic History lecture hall in the Cordis Block was surprisingly spacious, the high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings that depicted scenes of ancient magical battles.

Elenore and I had managed to find two seats together in the middle of the room.

Although I could feel the subtle heat of envious gazes from some of the male students, while others just seemed to gawk at Elenore with open admiration.

Sitting next to someone who could probably make flowers bloom with a smile definitely drew attention, but honestly, I was more focused on trying to absorb the atmosphere of the class.

This was Magic History, a subject Vykekard had surprisingly recommended, claiming it held more clues to the world's workings than I might initially assume.

Of course I wouldn't believe the words of a headless fool, since I'm the one who holds all the knowledge.

But if Vykekard is the one suggesting I don't mind it as much.

Click!

The door at the front of the hall swung open revealing a man who looked like he'd just stepped out of a dusty old tome.

Professor Vance Marsh.

His long, steel-grey hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, and his eyes, though bright, held the distant, slightly manic gleam of a true history fanatic.

I instantly knew I was in for a ride.

This guy probably knew more about the sock lint of ancient wizards than I knew about my own past.

"Welcome, eager minds!"

Professor Marsh announced, his voice booming through the hall with an almost theatrical enthusiasm.

"To the grand world of Magic History! Where the echoes of power resonate through the ages, and the whispers of forgotten spells still dance on the wind!"

He paced back and forth before the lectern, his gaze sweeping over the class with an almost feverish intensity.

"For the next two weeks, my dear students, prepare yourselves for an adventure beyond the confines of these hallowed halls! We shall be embarking on a journey! A pilgrimage to an ancient landmark, steeped in mystery and brimming with the very essence of Aethel's glorious past!"

A wide, almost manic grin stretched across his face.

"So, be excited! Be very excited!"

"A trip?" I muttered under my breath.

A field trip to an ancient landmark… that sounded suspiciously familiar.

Could this be it? The "Hero Of The Past" event?

It was one of Kaelen's earlier arcs, a journey to some crumbling ruins that held a key to unlocking a forgotten hero's power.

But if my memories were right, Elenore's B-side story, the one where Marcel's obsession with her really took a dark turn, was intertwined with that event.

He'd used the chaos of the expedition as a cover for his more sinister pursuits.

Not only that but the heroes ruins had way more in store since the blackhearts would be after a fragment of the first heroes power.

Of course that would be the case If this was indeed that trip, then staying on the sidelines was about to become a whole lot more complicated.

I'd been hoping to lay low for a while after the fight with Uzan, but fate, or the System, clearly had other plans.

That meant I had no choice, did I?

If I wanted to even remotely keep an eye on things, to maybe, just maybe, nudge the plot in a slightly less disastrous direction for Elenore, then Magic History just became a mandatory subject.

So much for trying to pick the easiest classes.

Haah...

I sighed inwardly. High school life was turning out to be a lot more involved than I'd initially anticipated.

I hate to say it but It certainly feels quite bothersome.

As Professor Marsh began the lecture, I found myself actually captivated.

Throughout the lesson he spoke of "Spell Arts Of Magica" the set of spells I've heard many times in my life.

Back in the highest peak in magic there were a collection of one hundred spells perfected during the Golden Age.

Apparently, these weren't just dusty spells of the past.

They were still in use today, the go-to arsenal for dealing with everything from rampaging monsters to demonic incursions and even magical disorders.

According to Professor Marsh, Spell Arts Of Magica were essentially the original form of magic, predating the whole elemental affinity system.

These "flawless and perfect" spells were developed specifically to combat the threats of that era – demons, monsters, rogue spirits.

It was like learning about the first generation of magical weaponry, the foundation upon which all modern magic was built.

Ninety perfect spells… That was a bold claim.

But if they'd stood the test of time, there had to be something to it.

And if they were effective against demons and spirits… maybe they could be useful against whatever was going on with the Black Hearts.

The upcoming trip was starting to sound less like a chore and more like a potential opportunity.

A chance to see these ancient spells in action, maybe even learn a few myself.

And if it was indeed the "Hero Of The Past" event… well, I needed to be prepared for anything.