The Extra's Reincarnation

"Now, if you have a moment," Riggs Bourne continued, his expression shifting from administrative to something more personal.

"I'd like to discuss your future here at Aethel Academy."

I nodded, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

He gestured toward the door.

"Come with me, Julian. Let's take a walk."

I hesitated, then rose to follow him.

"All right, sir."

We left the main office and stepped into the hallway. Students bustled past, engrossed in their own conversations and schedules. As we walked, I wondered where he was taking me.

I could only hope it wasn't to see Principal Nyx.

"I understand you have your reasons for avoiding the advanced track," Riggs said, his tone less formal now that we were out of the office. "But I still believe you're wasting your potential."

"It's not about wasting potential," I replied, trying to keep up with his long strides. "It's about making the most of it in my own way."

"Hmm," he murmured, unconvinced.

We turned a corner, and I noticed we were heading toward the Axis Block, a section of the academy known for its state-of-the-art training facilities.

"Where are we going?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

Riggs glanced at me, a small smile playing at his lips. "You'll see soon enough."

FWANG!

[Loading Quest…]

The notification flashed in my vision, and a bead of sweat formed on my brow.

What now?

With each step, my anxiety grew. By the time we reached the Axis Block, I was half-expecting something outrageous.

Riggs stopped in front of a large door marked "Advanced Training Room."

He turned to face me, his eyes sharp and assessing.

"Julian," he said, "I'd like to spar with you."

I blinked, momentarily taken aback.

"Spar? With me?"

"I want to see your combat capabilities first-hand. If you're not interested in the advanced track, consider this a personal evaluation."

FWANG!

[MAIN STORY QUEST LOG - A TEST OF WILL]

[Description: Riggs Bourne has challenged you to a spar. This is an opportunity to demonstrate your skills and satisfy his curiosity about your potential.]

[Objective: Spar with Riggs Bourne]

[Reward: 250 SP + Additional Bonuses Calculated After Completion]

I stared at the quest window, then back at Riggs.

He was waiting patiently for my response, though there was a glint of challenge in his eyes.

"You can say no if you want," he said, "but I'd like to see what you're capable of."

I considered my options. Sparring with Riggs Bourne, an ex-continental Ballad Mage, was no small matter.

But the quest reward was significant, and something in his demeanor suggested he wouldn't take me lightly.

"Take it easy on me," I said with a wry smile.

"After all, I'm just a support specialist."

Riggs chuckled, the sound deep and genuine.

"I'll decide how easy to take it once I've assessed you."

He pushed open the door to the training room, and I followed him inside.

***

Marcel Dorn lounged in the shadows of a secluded corner of the academy, his expression pensive and calculating.

The room was dimly lit, its only illumination coming from the soft glow of mana lamps that cast long, flickering shadows across the walls.

He was surrounded by a group of female students, all from the upper years, their eyes fixed on him with a mix of adoration and concern.

"You need to stop worrying about that loss to the first-years," one of the girls said, her voice soothing as she leaned closer to Marcel. "It's not worth your time."

"Yeah," another chimed in, her arm slipping around his. "You're still the best in our year, Marcel. No one even comes close."

Marcel's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Their reassurances were comforting, but his mind was already elsewhere, calculating his next move.

The deviation from the original plot was unexpected, but not insurmountable. He just needed to adjust his strategy.

His primary concern now was recruiting potential candidates for the ritual ceremony.

He needed to identify who among the first-years showed promise, who might be worthy of joining his cause.

As he pondered this, the door swung open and one of his informants—a wiry second-year with a nervous demeanor—hurried in.

"Marcel," the newcomer said, slightly out of breath. "I've got news."

Marcel's attention snapped to the boy, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused.

"Spit it out," he ordered.

The informant gulped and nodded. "It's about Julian. Word is, he likes Elenore."

The effect of the words was instantaneous.

Marcel's expression shifted from intense concentration to something darker, more sinister.

He leaned back, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

"Julian likes Elenore, does he?" Marcel mused, his voice low and dangerous.

The implications were delicious. If Julian had feelings for Elenore, then Marcel had the perfect leverage.

He could repay Julian for the humiliation of the Capture the Flag match and eliminate a rival in one calculated move.

The girls around him exchanged curious glances, sensing the change in his mood but unsure of its source.

Marcel's smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the dim light.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice silky with confidence. "I've figured out exactly what to do."

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of a new plan.

"Let's see how Julian likes it when I take something he wants."

***

The advanced training room was spacious and well-equipped, the walls lined with an array of weapons and training gear.

Mana lamps cast a bright, even light over the polished floor, reflecting off the shining surfaces of the equipment.

Riggs led Julian to the center of the room, his stride confident and unhurried. He turned to face Julian, his expression both stern and expectant.

"You understand that sparring with me is no small matter," Riggs said, his eyes locking onto Julian's with a piercing intensity.

"Even a single round will be enough to earn you fifty merit points."

Julian's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the merit points.

That was more than he'd expected, and the prospect of securing them made the challenge even more enticing.

With those points, he'd have a buffer against expulsion, allowing him to navigate the academy's semester with more freedom.

"Fifty points?" Julian repeated, unable to keep the surprise—and the hint of excitement—from his voice.

Riggs nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Consider it an incentive to take the match seriously."

Fifty points would give him the breathing room he desperately needed.

He could afford to take more risks, even make a few mistakes, without jeopardizing his position at the academy.

"What's your answer, Julian?"

"I accept," Julian replied, his voice steady.

He knew this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up, even if it meant facing an opponent as mighty as Riggs Bourne.

"Good," Riggs said, turning toward the wall where an assortment of weapons hung in neat rows.

"Now, a question for you. Do you know how to use a sword?"

Julian hesitated, glancing down at Vykekard, who hung by his hip.

The silver helmet seemed to vibrate with energy, as if eager to contribute to the conversation.

-You could use a sword. But against him, it won't matter.

Vykekard's voice was both amused and resigned, echoing directly in Julian's mind.

-He's exceptional. A title-worthy opponent. Even in your strongest state, you wouldn't win.

Julian sighed inwardly, knowing Vykekard was right. Riggs Bourne was a legend, and even the full extent of Julian's abilities might not be enough to land a single decisive hit.

"It's best to just give it a try," he muttered to himself.

-That's the spirit. Just don't expect any miracles.

Julian looked up at Riggs, a determined glint in his crimson eyes. "I know how to use a sword," he admitted, deciding there was no point in hiding it.

Riggs regarded him with a knowing expression. "I suspected as much," he said. "I'm glad you're being honest. It was clear from the start that you were a swordsman."

He tossed a practice blade to Julian, who caught it deftly, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. Riggs selected a weapon for himself—a simple but well-crafted long sword—before returning to the center of the room.

"Whenever you're ready," Riggs said, settling into a relaxed stance that seemed to invite an attack.

Julian took a deep breath, centering himself.

He knew he was at a disadvantage, but the prospect of fifty merit points had him more motivated than the battle with Uzan. He couldn't afford to hesitate.

Haah…

Step…

In the span of a heartbeat, Julian vanished from his starting position.

"…!"

His body moved with otherworldly speed as he channeled his soul arts energy into his blade, causing it to glow with an ethereal light.

The technique of soul imbuement, a skill that should have been far beyond a first-year student, flowed through him naturally as he materialized behind Riggs, sword already mid-swing toward the instructor's exposed back.

But Riggs's body shifted without even turning around.

His eyes flashed with a golden light, and his blade moved with impossible precision to intercept Julian's attack.

CLANG!

Metal struck metal with a resounding clang that echoed throughout the training room, the impact jarring Julian's arms and sending him skidding backward across the polished floor.