The Extra's Rise

So, Cecilia just wants to see if I'll actually succeed or not.

I sighed, the realization settling in like an expected but still unwelcome guest.

She wasn't helping me.

Not really.

She was playing with me.

Setting me up like a chess piece, then stepping back just far enough to watch me fail.

She wanted me to crumble as a strategist in the mock war, just so she could smirk and say she was right all along.

Of course.

Of course.

Because that was Cecilia Slatemark.

A hypocrite wrapped in silk and born into power, the kind of person who despised the idea of talentless people trying to climb higher than their station.

It wasn't just arrogance.

It was something she believed in, down to her bones.

She had spent years in the Tower of Magic, the place her father had shoved her into the moment she formed her mana core—despite being a princess.

And while she was there, she broke people.

Not physically.

But by existing.

By being so overwhelmingly, undeniably talented that she made young geniuses feel like ants crawling toward a sun they would never reach.

Some of them shattered on their own. Some of them she helped along the way.

Deliberately, or just by standing in the same room as them.

For Cecilia, a person's only worth was their talent.

Not their effort.

Not their perseverance.

Just raw, intrinsic ability—the kind you were either born with or not.

And she had been born with far too much of it.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that she didn't just believe in this system.

She enjoyed it.

She was a puppeteer, pulling the strings of young nobles in the Slatemark Empire, playing games that only she understood the rules to.

Manipulating. Testing. Breaking.

She was completely, irreversibly insane.

And now she was watching me.

Waiting.

Waiting to see if I would prove her right.

Waiting to see if I would fail.

'Fine,' I thought, my fingers curling into a fist.

If she wanted to watch, then I'd make sure she saw exactly what I was capable of.

After I was given the position of Head Strategist, the meeting disbanded.

The countdown to the mock war had begun.

Days passed in a blur of training, preparation, and waiting. But without any real information on the battlefield or the second years' tactics, there was only so much we could do. We assigned units. We discussed formations. But the real war would start the moment we entered the simulation.

Lucifer, as Commander, wouldn't be leading a unit. He didn't need to. He was, for all intents and purposes, a one-man army. His role was simple: eliminate the biggest threats.

Ian had suggested adding two more strategists to help oversee the battle—Rose Springshaper and Leon Price. Both were skilled in tactics, and I wasn't arrogant enough to think I could run the whole war alone.

The remaining ninety students were divided into units of fifteen, each one led by one of the six other Class A students. The strongest led the charge, the rest followed in formation. Simple. Direct. Functional.

Beyond that, we could only wait.

Then, the day arrived.

All first-year students were gathered in the VR room, a cavernous space lined with gleaming pods and sleek metallic floors. The air buzzed with anticipation, a mixture of excitement, nervous energy, and raw tension.

"I think everyone's here," Nero said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. The professors flanking him stood with arms folded, watching us carefully.

"Good," Nero continued. "Then let's review the rules."

"The battle ends when one side is completely defeated."

"Lucifer Windward is the Commander for the first years. Kali Maelkith leads the second years."

"The mock war will take place in a Virtual World designed to simulate a destroyed city battlefield."

"If you 'die' in the simulation, you are eliminated from the event."

"You will feel real pain—nerve stimulation is set to 50%—but don't worry," Nero said, smirking slightly. "You won't actually die. If we detect that your vitals are at risk, you will be forcefully ejected."

A murmur rippled through the students. 50% pain. Enough to make the fight feel real. Enough to hurt.

"Alright," Nero said, clapping his hands once. "Let's begin. When your name is called, come forward, collect your nanotech suit, and proceed to a VR pod."

A professor stepped forward, tablet in hand, and began reading off names.

One by one, students stepped forward, taking the small metal spheres handed to them.

It didn't take long before my name was called.

I approached the orange-haired professor, who barely glanced up as he handed me a small metallic orb no larger than a coin.

"Place it on your chest before entering the pod," he instructed before calling the next name.

I nodded, turning away, my grip tightening around the orb.

The VR chamber stretched out before me—a massive room lined with pods, sleek, futuristic, their interiors glowing faintly. The design was clean, clinical. A war machine disguised as a learning tool.

The VR pods looked almost alien, gleaming white with soft, red-cushioned interiors that would mold to fit the user's body. Each pod had a helmet resting inside, waiting to connect us to a world that wasn't real, but would feel like it was.

I reached my assigned pod, exhaled, and pressed the metallic sphere to my chest.

A sharp click echoed in my ears.

Then—movement.

The orb dissolved instantly, its nanobots flowing over my body like liquid metal, wrapping around my limbs, my torso, my entire form in a second-skin of black nanotech armor.

The material felt weightless, a seamless extension of myself.

"Listen carefully," Nero's voice carried through the speakers. "These suits will defend you, but they can also be used to create weapons in a pinch."

I flexed my fingers, feeling the slight pulse of energy embedded in the suit. The nanotech was directly linked to my neural network—which meant that with a single thought, I could reshape it into a weapon.

"But," Nero continued, "using the nanobots to form weapons weakens your armor. The more you take, the more vulnerable you become. Use it only as a last resort."

I nodded to myself. Understood.

"One last thing," Nero added. "Time dilation is active. A full day in the virtual world equals one hour in real life. Don't lose track of time."

He clapped his hands. "Alright. Step into your pods. Let's begin."

I climbed inside, settling into the cushioned interior. The VR helmet was cool against my skin as I pulled it over my head.

Then, darkness.

A soft mechanical voice echoed in the void.

[Fingerprint scan… completed.]

[Retina scan… complete.]

[Full body scan… completed.]

[Full checkup complete. Student ID recognized.]

[Rank 8, first-year student Arthur Nightingale, do you wish to start Link? Speak Yes or No.]

I barely hesitated.

"Yes."

The world exploded into light.

A surge of energy rushed through me, my senses stretching, expanding, my body being pulled into something vast, something more than reality.

[Starting Link…]

The last thing I saw before the real world vanished was a bright, blinding flash—

And then, I woke up in war.