The Extra's Reincarnation-Chapter 137

This was it. This was the moment where everything truly began.

In the original novel, this combined class served as the catalyst for several major plot threads.

Kaelen, the main protagonist, would demonstrate his unique swordsmanship like abilities for the first time in a public setting.

Marcel Dorn would notice Elenore watching Kaelen with admiration, planting the seeds of his toxic jealousy.

And Franz would observe them all with calculating detachment, already plotting how to use their relationships to his advantage.

I checked the time crystal embedded in the wall nearby. 12:30 PM.

I had just enough time to make it to the North Arena if I hurried.

"Are you going to gawk at that notice all day, or are you going to move?" Vykekard's voice echoed in my mind.

"You're blocking the way for actual students who need to see the board."

I glanced around, realizing several students were indeed waiting to check the bulletin board.

Mumbling an apology, I stepped aside and unfolded my map.

"The North Arena should be... here," I muttered, tracing the path with my finger.

"Across the central courtyard, past the library, and through the western colonnade."

"Splendid navigation skills," Vykekard commented dryly. "Perhaps we should celebrate this momentous achievement with a parade."

"Your sarcasm isn't helpful," I replied under my breath as I began walking.

"I'm trying to figure out how to approach this situation."

"What situation? You solved an impossible equation and now you're going to watch children hit each other with sticks and magic. Seems straightforward enough."

I sighed, turning down a less-crowded corridor.

"It's not that simple. What happened in class today... I never meant to solve that theorem. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, and Franz was supposed to be the one to do it."

"And yet, here we are," Vykekard replied. "The world hasn't ended. The sky hasn't fallen. Perhaps this world is more resilient than you think."

"Resilient or not, I'd prefer to avoid causing any more disruptions." I tucked the map back into my pocket and picked up my pace.

"I need to watch this combat class without drawing any more attention to myself."

I'd gone from trying to be invisible to solving one of the most challenging magical theorems in the academy's history, all in the span of a morning.

If there was a way to undo what had happened, I would have taken it in a heartbeat.

As I crossed the central courtyard I saw students lounged on stone benches or beneath the golden-leaved trees, enjoying their lunch break before afternoon classes.

I kept my head down, hoping to avoid recognition, but it was already too late.

"Hey! You're that guy who solved Corvus's impossible equation!"

A tall, lanky boy with a shock of red hair jogged up beside me, his eyes wide with excitement.

Two of his friends followed close behind, their expressions equally eager.

"Word's spreading fast," I muttered, not slowing my pace.

"Are you kidding? Professor Albrecht himself came down to see your solution! That hasn't happened since... well, ever!" The redhead matched my stride effortlessly.

"I'm Theo, by the way. Theo Blackwood."

"Julian," I offered reluctantly.

"We know!" one of Theo's friends chimed in, a shorter boy with spectacles perched on his nose.

"Julian Uzziel, the special admission student who just made Professor Corvus look like a complete fool!"

"That wasn't my intention,"

"Even better!" Theo laughed.

"The unintentional genius! Where are you headed?"

"North Arena. Combat class."

"Perfect! We're going there too. Mind if we walk with you?"

Before I could decline, they had positioned themselves around me like an honor guard. Great. So much for keeping a low profile.

"So that focusing technique..." the bespectacled boy began hesitantly.

"I'd rather not discuss it," I cut him off.

"Right, right, trade secret and all that," Theo nodded sagely. "But seriously, how did you even know where to begin with that theorem? I've seen third-year theoretical mages struggle with basic compression formulas."

I sighed, resigning myself to the conversation.

"Sometimes the solution is simpler than it appears. People overcomplicate things."

"Profound," Vykekard's voice echoed in my head, dripping with sarcasm.

"There's the arena!" Theo's other friend pointed ahead, saving me from further questioning.

The North Arena rose before us, a massive circular structure of gleaming white stone.

Unlike the ancient coliseums I'd seen in my previous life, this arena was a marvel of magical engineering.

It was nothing short of extraordinary. From the outside, it had appeared impressively large, but stepping through the arched entrance revealed an interior that somehow defied spatial logic.

The ceiling soared impossibly high, supported by graceful columns etched with runes that flashed with suppressed magical energy.

Tiered seating surrounded a perfectly circular combat platform in the center, the stone surface of which shimmered slightly—evidence of the protective barriers that would prevent stray spells from harming spectators.

"Wow,"

The acoustics were perfect; even the quietest whisper seemed to carry just far enough to be heard by those intended to hear it, yet somehow didn't echo throughout the entire space.

"First time in the North Arena?" Theo asked, grinning at my obvious awe.

"Is it that obvious?" I managed, still taking in the magnificence of the space.

"Everyone looks like that their first time,"

"It's the spatial expansion enchantments. They say Headmaster Aurelius himself laid them a century ago, and they've only grown stronger with time."

Students were already filling the seats, clustered in groups that clearly delineated first-years from second-years.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation—combative magic demonstrations were always crowd-pleasers, and the chance to see upper-level students showcase their skills was drawing quite an audience.

I made my way toward the first-year section, following Theo and his friends through the growing crowd.

"First-years never win,"

"It's basically ritual humiliation at this point."

"Yeah, but it's tradition,"

"And sometimes they put up a decent fight."

As we approached the entrance to the first-year seating area, a broad-shouldered student with a silver badge pinned to his uniform stepped directly into my path. His expression was neutral, but his posture made it clear I wasn't going to pass.

"Sorry, but you don't happen to be Julian Uzziel?" he asked, though it was obvious he already knew the answer.

"Yes?" I replied, suddenly wary.

Had word of my mathematical feat reached the student officials already?

"You're to report to the undercroft," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

"Immediately."

I stared at him, momentarily confused. The undercroft? That subterranean area beneath the arena wasn't mentioned in the original story—at least not during this event.

"Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

The student shrugged. "I'm just delivering the message. All I know is you're expected down there instead of in the stands."

"But the combat demonstration—"

"Look," he cut me off, "I don't make the rules. I was told to intercept you and direct you to the undercroft. That's all I know."

Theo gave me a curious look.

"What's going on?"

"I'm apparently needed elsewhere, Looks like I won't be able to watch."

The silver-badged student pointed toward a narrow staircase partially hidden behind a column.

"Down those stairs, all the way to the bottom. Someone will meet you there."

The stone steps leading to the undercroft spiraled downward into darkness, lit only by occasional mage-lights embedded in the walls.

"This is peculiar," Vykekard's voice whispered in my mind. "The undercroft is typically reserved for competitor preparation or faculty meetings."

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

"Maybe they want to congratulate me on solving that theorem," I muttered sarcastically.

"Or perhaps they've discovered your true nature and plan to dissect you for scientific study," Vykekard replied cheerfully. "Either way, it should be entertaining."

"Your optimism is overwhelming."

As I reached the bottom of the staircase, the narrow passage opened into a spacious chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling.

Unlike the gleaming white stone of the arena above, the undercroft was built of darker, more ancient materials—granite blocks fitted so perfectly together that not even a sliver of light could pass between them.

And there, waiting in the center of the room, stood Francine.

She wasn't alone. Seven other students were scattered around the room, some leaning against pillars, others sitting on stone benches carved from the walls.

I recognized a few faces from my research into the original story—including one that made my heart skip a beat.

Kaelen Nazara, the actual protagonist, was here.

He looked exactly as described in the novel: tall and lean with perpetually tousled dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to shift between green and gold depending on the light.

He was examining a practice sword with casual interest, seemingly oblivious to the significance of his own existence.

Around him I saw the usual characters for this game which were Elenore Blanchefleur, Rivaleno, Tiberius Ashworth, and Marcus Renfield the rest were extras

whose names I struggled to recall—completed the group.

"Julian Uzziel,"

Francine stepped forward saying my name as it rolled off her tongue with practiced precision.

"Thank you for coming."

I glanced around the room, confused by this unexpected gathering.

"I didn't realize I had a choice."

"There's always a choice, though some are more advisable than others."

A slight smile curved her lips and then she gestured to the assembled students.

"I've been tasked with selecting this year's team for the annual Capture the Flag competition against the second years."

"And you want me... to watch?"

I wondered, still not understanding my role here.

"No," she replied simply. "I want you to participate."