The Extra's Rise

Finally, it was time for the Third Mission.

There was something different in the air this time—not just the ozone-rich tang of the warp gates or the distant hum of orbital drones, but the unmistakable weight of expectation. Tension floated through the academy halls like a very polite ghost that no one wanted to acknowledge, but everyone was painfully aware of.

Unlike the previous missions, where students picked their own poison, this time the poison picked us. We were being sent directly to the frontier zones.

This was the real thing. Well, as real as anything could be in a world where most conflicts were settled through carefully orchestrated shows of force rather than actual bloodshed. The age of total war was behind humanity, thankfully, but that didn't mean the borders between controlled territory and miasmic zones were anything resembling safe.

And that was enough to make even the more arrogant students double-check their insurance nanobots.

There were three continents hosting what instructors politely called "active engagement areas": Northern, Southern, and Western. One hundred second-year students were carefully divided into three main batches, then diced into smaller groups with the efficiency of a bureaucratic chef with a fondness for even numbers.

Lucky me, I ended up stationed with Clana, Rose, and Rachel on the Western frontier—otherwise known as the land of orcs, ogres, and people who thought tactical fashion meant dirt-resistant cloaks with unnecessarily dramatic collars.

The academy's departure hall buzzed with the usual pre-mission activities: last-minute equipment checks, hurried goodbyes, and the occasional panic attack disguised as enthusiastic stretching. Most students wore their standard-issue field uniforms—sleek, practical ensembles designed to look both intimidating and photogenic should any news drones happen to be in the area.

"Are you excited?" Rachel asked, tilting her head in that dangerously disarming way of hers. Her smile was wide and full of sunshine, which would've been entirely appropriate if we weren't metaphorically standing under the gathering clouds of potential responsibility and actual physical exertion.

Rachel had a very particular Gift. Not one officially recorded in any spellbook or magical compendium, but potent nonetheless: she radiated joy like a miniature sun. Being near her was like having your soul baked at 180 degrees Celsius until it was golden brown and emotionally vulnerable.

"Yeah," I said with a smile, "I'm excited."

"Because I'm with you?" she asked, her smile turning the dial from sunny to blinding. She adjusted the strap of her field pack with the sort of casual grace that suggested she'd practiced the movement in front of a mirror until it looked effortlessly elegant.

"And Rose," I added helpfully, gesturing to where Rose was methodically organizing her equipment with the precision of someone who color-coded their sock drawer.

Rachel blinked. Then beamed. Then threw herself into a hug so enthusiastic it could've knocked over a less fortified man. I managed to stay upright, barely.

"Mmm, I missed you too," she said, completely ignoring the dozen or so curious—or scandalised—eyes from nearby students. A group of first-years watched with expressions ranging from awe to secondhand embarrassment.

Then came Rose, moving with the deliberate grace of a noblewoman trained to make her disapproval felt through body language alone. She placed a perfectly manicured hand on Rachel's shoulder. A diplomatic tap. A warning shot.

Rachel, of course, ignored her like a cat ignoring a water sprayer.

The hand stayed.

Rachel stayed.

The air chilled by half a degree. A nearby temperature gauge actually registered the change, beeping softly in confusion.

Finally, with a theatrical click of her tongue that could probably be weaponised if tuned correctly, Rachel disengaged and floated two centimetres away.

"Hey, Arthur," Rose said sweetly, her smile entirely innocent in the way that very much wasn't.

I gave her a nod with a smile on my face, silently appreciating her ability to look combat-ready and runway-ready simultaneously.

"Wow, those two are already fighting," Clana said, drifting over to my side like a sleep-deprived wraith in a hoodie. Her uniform was technically correct but rumpled in a way that suggested she'd possibly slept in it. Or on it. Or near it. She yawned with all the drama of a Victorian ghost realising it had to haunt again, and patted my shoulder with the casual sympathy of someone watching two kittens sharpen their claws as they glared at each other.

"You're going to need hazard pay," Clana muttered, stretching her arms like the act of being awake was a chore someone else had dumped on her to-do list. "The frontier might actually be safer than this."

Around us, other student groups formed, clustered according to their assigned destinations. Jin and his team were preparing for the Northern region, their equipment designed for colder climates. I spotted Lucifer with his Southern team, looking as perfectly composed as ever, like he'd just stepped out of a recruitment poster rather than preparing for a potentially hazardous assignment.

Ren caught my eye from across the hall and gave me a slight nod—the kind of acknowledgment that contained neither friendship nor hostility, just professional recognition. I returned it with similar neutrality.

Before I could respond to Clana—perhaps with something inspiring, or at least resigned—Nero's voice sliced through the charged air like a laser through butter.

"All second-year students are present, so let's begin," Nero said, his voice amplified by some invisible sound system that made every word sound like a commandment from on high. He stood on a raised platform at the front of the hall, managing to look both completely still and somehow radiating impatience.

"As previously stated, you've been assigned to different sections of the frontier zones. Upon arrival, you'll be under the guidance of military officers designated to your region. I don't care if you're a prince or a princess, none of it matters."

He paused. The silence that followed was the kind that suggested something important was about to be said. Possibly followed by something very, very bureaucratic.

"You will listen. You will observe. And you will adapt. These are not simulations. The frontier zones are controlled, but they are not safe. You are here to learn how to lead, yes—but also how to assess risk and make appropriate decisions."

Well, that was moderately comforting. At least he hadn't explicitly mentioned death this time.

"Remember, these frontier posts maintain the balance between our territories and the wilder regions. Most of what you'll encounter are surveillance operations, containment protocols, and occasional small-scale engagements. Your job is to learn, not to be heroes."

This last bit seemed directed specifically at several known troublemakers in our class—possibly including me, if the brief eye contact was any indication.

The warp gate activated in a flash of violet-blue light that danced with static. The very fabric of space-time did a little shimmy.

"Western Continent teams, you're first," Nero announced.

I felt a slight nudge against my arm and turned to find Clana offering me half of her nutrient bar. The gesture was so unexpected I almost didn't react.

"Take it," she said with the seriousness of someone offering their last will and testament.

I accepted the offering with appropriate solemnity. "Thanks."

"I packed snacks," Rachel interjected, patting a suspiciously large pocket on her field pack. "Homemade energy cookies with enhanced nutritional profiles."

"I brought actual food," Rose countered smoothly. "Vacuum-sealed gourmet meals prepared by the Vakrt estate's head chef."

The two women stared at each other with the intense focus of rival predators who'd spotted the same prey.

Clana sighed deeply, the sound of someone who'd seen this particular movie too many times and was tired of the predictable plot. "This is going to be a long two weeks."

One by one, we began stepping into the gate, our boots echoing softly as we crossed the threshold between academy luxury and whatever frontier post awaited us on the other side.

Clana yawned again, just before stepping through.

"Hope there's a bed on the other side," she muttered. "Or at least a post with reasonable nap breaks."

And with that, she vanished in a shimmer of light.

Rachel went next, her golden hair catching the warp glow like it had been engineered to do so. She didn't look back, but she did adjust her posture just enough to ensure her silhouette was at its most photogenic as she disappeared.

Rose followed, more composed, a silent vow in her eyes. A promise to do more than just participate—a promise to excel.

Then it was my turn.

I took a breath, mentally reviewing my own preparations and plans. The Western Frontier wasn't just an assignment—it was an opportunity. One that fit perfectly into what I needed to accomplish.

"Mr. Nightingale," Nero said just as I approached the gate. "Try not to cause an international incident this time."

I smiled politely. "No promises, professor."

And with that, I stepped through the gate, leaving behind the safety of the academy and toward whatever awaited on the frontier. Not war, exactly, but definitely not peace either. Something in between—the careful balance that humanity had maintained for generations.

A balance I intended to tip, when the time was right.