The Extra's Rise

The first day of the academy, or rather, tomorrow, would mark the grand commencement ceremony.

I was currently housed in the lavish Ophelia dorms, the residence reserved exclusively for first-year students who carried titles, noble blood, or an absurd level of talent. That last category, unfortunately, included me.

At this very moment, I stood before my door, staring at it as though it were some ancient, enchanted gateway that required an incantation to open. It didn't. It just needed me to stop hesitating and step through.

'Come on, Arthur. Be brave,' I thought, inhaling sharply as I finally took that first step.

The reason for my hesitation soon made itself painfully clear. As I made my way toward the lounge, I found them all gathered there, lounging like apex predators surveying their domain.

The seven broken geniuses. The ones who scoffed at balance, laughed in the face of effort, and treated the rest of the world as background noise.

A red-haired boy was the first to notice me. He strolled over, hands in his pockets, his relaxed posture completely at odds with the sheer presence he radiated. He wore nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, yet he carried himself like a king on holiday.

"Oh, so you're Rank 8, huh?" His grin was lazy, but his golden eyes were sharp.

Ian Viserion. Prince of the South. Rank 5. Draconic human.

I had read about him before, about his strength, his bloodline, his sheer arrogance. Yet, seeing him in the flesh was something else entirely.

"Nice to meet you," he said, extending a hand.

I bowed instinctively. "I greet Your Highness."

"Oh, don't bother with that," Ian waved it off as if I'd just offered him a cup of lukewarm tea. "I get it, old habits and all, but here at Mythos, we're all peers. So, what's your name?"

"Arthur," I said, taking his hand, "Arthur Nightingale."

"Nightingale?" Ian tilted his head, his fingers still curled around mine as he turned his gaze toward the far side of the room. "Hey, Cecilia, is that a noble family in the Empire?"

A girl lounging on the sofa barely spared me a glance. She was scrolling through her phone, her crimson eyes flickering to me for a second before turning back to whatever held her interest.

"No," she said flatly. Then, without missing a beat: "And don't talk to me, lizard boy."

Ian sighed, releasing my hand. "Don't be so mean, Cecilia."

"You were always too harsh," another voice added, this one smooth and confident.

I turned just in time to see a boy stepping forward. He moved with the ease of someone who knew he belonged at the top and had never questioned it. His golden hair shimmered even under the artificial dorm lights, and his verdant eyes had the unsettling ability to see right through a person.

Lucifer Windward. The Prince of the North. The youngest White-ranker in the world. The one the entire novel revolved around.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," he said, offering his hand.

I took it hesitantly. "It's my pleasure, err… Lucifer."

"Just Lucifer is fine," he replied, tilting his head ever so slightly as he studied me.

He was absurdly handsome. Unreasonably so. Standing before him felt like standing in the presence of some divine entity that had deigned to walk among mortals. My heart thumped slightly harder in my chest as his grip left mine.

I forced myself to move my gaze away before I got sucked into the sheer gravitational pull of his presence. Across the room, two others—Ren and Jin—were deep in conversation, their expressions serious. Meanwhile, on the sofa, another pair sat in silence, neither acknowledging the other's presence.

Seraphina, the half elf princess of Mount Hua sect, sat beside Cecilia, but the distance between them was palpable. She hadn't spoken a word, yet the moment I entered, her ears twitched slightly. She turned to look at me, her ice-blue eyes assessing.

"Arthur, is it?" Her voice was soft, but it carried a weight to it, like a snowflake landing on the surface of a frozen lake.

"Yes," I responded automatically, my mind momentarily blank.

She was stunning. More than stunning. Ethereal. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid moonlight, and her features were so perfectly sculpted that she looked like she had stepped right out of a painting. I had read that elves were naturally more beautiful than humans, but even knowing that, seeing Seraphina in person was almost unfair.

My gaze drifted toward another girl seated beside Lucifer.

Rachel Creighton.

She had long blonde hair, sapphire-blue eyes, and a smile that actually reached them—unlike most of the people in this room. While Seraphina's beauty was almost otherworldly, Rachel's was warm, approachable, something human in a sea of inhuman talent.

She raised a hand in greeting. "Nice to meet someone who isn't a prince or princess."

I smiled at that. "Likewise."

The future Saintess, the kind but distant princess. If there was anyone in this room who I could actually hold a normal conversation with, it was probably her.

Though, I wasn't sure how long that would last.

Because in a room filled with monsters, I was the weakest link.

"Well, we were just hanging out together here," Lucifer said, his voice as smooth as a well-oiled lie. "You are, of course, welcome to join us. We don't know you yet, but we're willing to get to know you."

I blinked. That was… oddly reasonable. And coming from Lucifer Windward, the walking legend, it almost felt like a trap.

The thing was, all of them—the princes, the princesses, the heirs to legacies so grand they made history books look like casual blog posts—already knew each other. Being royalty or nobility tended to mean you met your fellow ridiculously talented peers at a young age. Playdates for them involved private tutors, grueling combat lessons, and, if the rumors were true, the occasional assassination attempt just to keep things interesting.

And then there was me. A commoner. An extra. A fluke of fate that had somehow ended up in their midst.

Still, I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to observe these walking disasters up close. I took a chair from the side of the room and sat down—not on either of the sofas, mind you. Those felt like occupied thrones, and I had no intention of claiming one and invoking some unspoken law of noble etiquette.

I stole another glance at the seven gathered before me.

This was surreal. Completely, utterly surreal.

As a reader, I had spent hours following their stories, their triumphs, their failures. I had analyzed their power-ups, ranted about their plot armor, and even suffered through the occasional romantic subplot that had derailed an otherwise perfectly good battle. And now?

Now they were real. Sitting right in front of me. Talking. Breathing.

If I hadn't already collapsed once today, I might have done so now.

Lucifer, as ever, took the lead. "As Rank 1, I represent the male students," he said in a tone that suggested this was a natural law rather than an appointment. "Rachel is the representative of the female students since she is Rank 3 overall."

I nodded, though I already knew this. Rachel and Lucifer had known each other for years. Childhood friends, though with how things unfolded in the novel, "rivals by default" might have been a more accurate term.

Rachel turned to me, her expression warm but unreadable. "Anyway, Arthur, I wanted to—"

She didn't get to finish.

"Why are we letting him join us?" Ren's voice cut through the air like the edge of a blade honed just for arguments.

Lucifer turned his head slightly. "What are you saying, Ren?"

Ren Kagu was slouched against the wall, his arms folded, the picture of quiet hostility. His violet eyes, deep and unreadable, locked onto me like a predator sizing up an unworthy meal.

"He's a commoner," Ren said simply. "And he's not at our level. Kick him out."

Rachel narrowed her eyes. "That's not up to you to decide."

Ren ignored her, stepping closer until he was right beside me. His hand clamped down on my shoulder with enough weight to make his point clear—he wasn't just looking down on me; he was actively testing me.

"Tell me, Arthur Nightingale," he said, dragging my name out like it was something he had scraped off the bottom of his shoe, "do you think you're worthy of being in this circle?"

I met his gaze. Ren Kagu wasn't just some arrogant noble. He didn't care about birthright or family prestige. His obsession was strength, raw and undeniable. And right now, his ocular Gift—God's Eyes—was analyzing every inch of me, breaking me down into numbers, probabilities, weaknesses.

And what it saw clearly didn't impress him.

I opened my mouth, unsure if I should try to come up with something that wouldn't get me killed, but before I could speak, Lucifer stood.

"Worthy?" Lucifer said, his tone calm, almost amused. He took a single step forward, and the entire atmosphere of the room changed. "Ren Kagu, if it was about worthiness, then none of you deserve to be with me."

A hush fell over the lounge. Even Cecilia looked up from her phone.

Ren's grip on my shoulder tightened for a fraction of a second before he let go.

I had known Lucifer was powerful. Of course, I had. But seeing him like this, watching how effortlessly he could silence a room of monsters, was something else entirely.

I exhaled slowly, feeling my heartbeat steady.

This was the world I had stepped into.

And if I wanted to survive, I had to find a way to make sure that the next time someone asked if I was worthy of being here, there would be no doubt.