The Extra's Rise - Chapter 607

Chapter 607: Final Semester (2)

“Welcome back,” Professor Nero’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the lecture hall like a blade through silk. His presence commanded immediate attention, the kind of authority that came from decades of shaping the continent’s most elite practitioners. “I trust your winter break was productive.”

He tapped his tablet with practiced efficiency, and a shimmering holographic display materialized in the center of the room, bathing us all in a cool, blue light.

The new rankings pulsed in the air before us, each name glowing with soft luminescence:

Rank 1: Arthur Nightingale

Rank 2: Lucifer Windward

Rank 3: Ren Kagu

Rank 4: Seol-ah Moyong

Rank 5: Rachel Creighton

Rank 6: Cecilia Slatemark

Rank 7: Seraphina Zenith

Rank 8: Jin Ashbluff

Rank 9: Rose Springshaper

Rank 10: Deia Solaryn

Rank 11: Clara Lopez

Rank 12: Ian Viserion

Rank 13: Aria Gu

Rank 14: Ava Peng

A ripple of murmurs passed through the classroom as students processed their positions. I noticed several surprised glances directed toward the hologram, particularly focused on certain shifts in the rankings.

“Bear in mind,” Nero added, his tone crisp and professional, “these standings don’t reflect any growth since the last semester concluded.”

The clarification was important—these rankings were based on our end-of-semester evaluations from before winter break. Any advancement or new capabilities we’d developed during the vacation wouldn’t be factored in until the semester progressed.

What caught my attention most was Deia’s position at rank 10. She’d climbed two spots since the beginning of the year, which was no small feat in a class this competitive. The quiet determination she’d shown throughout our time at the academy was clearly paying dividends.

‘Deia’s growth has been impressive,’ I mused, watching as she maintained her characteristic composure despite what had to be satisfying news. Her partnership with Seol-ah and relationship with Lucifer seemed to be spurring all three of them to greater heights.

“Your evaluation this semester will be threefold,” Nero continued, his gaze sweeping across our faces with the intensity of someone taking the measure of each student individually. “One critical mission, your end-of-year project, and the Sovereign’s Tournament.”

The Sovereign’s Tournament. Every year, the academy’s finest students competed in what was essentially a showcase of the continent’s future leaders. For final-year students, it carried additional weight—performance in the tournament often influenced post-graduation opportunities and political positioning.

“The tournament structure has been adapted for fourteen participants,” Nero explained, his fingers dancing across his tablet as additional information appeared in the holographic display. “This grants byes to the top two rankings. We will update the rankings once more just before the tournament to finalize the roster.”

‘They’ve scrapped the preliminaries entirely,’ Luna observed. ‘Smart move, really. Class A has always been the only division that mattered for the real competition.’

It was a logical adaptation. The academy’s lower classes, while talented, simply couldn’t compete at the level required for the Sovereign’s Tournament. By limiting participation to the elite fourteen, they were ensuring that every match would be meaningful.

“Professor,” Rachel’s voice cut through the silence with characteristic directness, “what about exchange programs or field trips this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, and I noticed several students leaning forward with interest. The academy’s traditional programs had been highlights of previous years, offering unique learning opportunities and chances to build relationships with institutions across the continents.

“No exchange programs or field trips this year,” Nero stated flatly, his expression becoming notably more serious. “This decision was made in light of the… unforeseen circumstances of the past two years.”

A collective tension tightened in the room like a drawn bowstring. We all remembered—how could we forget?

Two years ago, our supposedly routine field trip to an archaeological site had been ambushed by a death cult seeking to capture or kill several high-profile students. The attack had been coordinated and brutal, and only quick thinking from our supervising professors had prevented casualties.

Last year, the exchange program with Starcrest Academy had become the epicenter of a full-blown war when political tensions between allied nations had erupted into open conflict. Students from multiple continents had found themselves caught in the middle of a diplomatic crisis that had taken months to resolve.

My eyes flickered to Lucifer, and I couldn’t help but notice the pattern. Both incidents had occurred when he was present, when the supposed protagonist of this world was in a position to be targeted or used as a catalyst for larger conflicts.

‘It’s always because of him,’ I thought, though without malice. It wasn’t Lucifer’s fault that destiny seemed determined to throw increasingly dangerous obstacles in his path.

‘The one destined to be the Emperor of the World is bound to face a few trials,’ Luna’s voice echoed in my mind with typical philosophical detachment. ‘Though the collateral damage does tend to be significant.’

With Nero’s announcements concluded, the lecture hall dissolved into a low buzz of conversation as students began processing the information and discussing implications with their neighbors.

“Art—” Lucifer started, turning toward me with what looked like an attempt at casual conversation, but his word was cut short as Deia and Seol-ah materialized at his sides like synchronized phantoms.

I watched with barely concealed amusement as both young women grabbed one of Lucifer’s arms with the kind of possessive determination that brooked no argument. The Prince of the North—this world’s prophesied hero and future Emperor—was currently being manhandled by his two girlfriends with all the dignity of a contested toy.

His verdant eyes, wide with alarm and embarrassment, found mine across the room. The pleading look he sent me was almost comical—here was someone capable of facing down Ancient-level threats, reduced to helpless panic by two determined young women.

‘Help,’ his expression clearly said.

I offered an internal reply that I was certain he could read in my bland expression: ‘And you’ll help me with my four?’

Lucifer blinked once, then twice. His gaze dropped, his head bowing in silent defeat as the reality of our mutual predicament settled over him. That was exactly the answer I’d expected. With resignation written across his features, he allowed himself to be dragged away by the two swordswomen, who despite their warrior pedigrees looked almost delicate next to his considerable frame.

‘At least his romantic complications are more straightforward than mine,’ I mused as they disappeared through the classroom door.

A soft scent of honey drifted to me, as distinctive as a signature and twice as intoxicating. The fragrance heralded an arrival I knew instantly.

“Arthur,” Seraphina said, her voice carrying that familiar crystalline quality as she approached my desk. Her pale face maintained its characteristic mask of perfect, doll-like stillness—beautiful but seemingly devoid of emotion to casual observers.

But I had learned to read the minute tells that others missed: the slight purse of her lips suggesting internal deliberation, the almost imperceptible tension in her jaw indicating suppressed feeling, the way her ice-blue eyes focused on me with laser-like intensity despite her composed exterior.

‘She’s grown stronger, too,’ I noted automatically, assessing the subtle changes in her aura. The power radiating from her had definitely increased during the winter break. In a straight fight, even Cecilia would struggle against Seraphina now. All four of my girls were at the peak of Integration-rank, pressed hard against the Wall they were destined to scale this summer, ready to shatter advancement records on their way to Ascendant-rank.

“What is it, Sera?” I asked, using the shortened version of her name that only I was permitted.

She leaned in close, her silver hair cascading like liquid moonlight as her lips approached my ear. When she spoke, her words were barely more than a whisper, but their impact was devastating.

The specific words she murmured made my entire thought process come to a dead halt.

Seraphina straightened up slowly, a flicker of something that wasn’t quite happiness but definitely deep satisfaction dancing in her pale eyes. She looked like someone who had just played a particularly effective chess move.

Meanwhile, I could only blink repeatedly, my mental processes attempting to reboot after the verbal bombshell she’d just delivered.

‘Did she… Did Seraphina really just say that?’

‘Oh my,’ Luna’s voice carried obvious amusement. ‘The ice princess has some hidden fire after all. And here I thought she was all proper royal restraint.’

My eyes flicked down to my smartwatch automatically. The rest of my day was clear—no classes, no obligations, nothing that couldn’t be rearranged.

‘Well then.’

“Rach,” I called out, getting to my feet with what I hoped was casual composure. “I need to talk to you later. My room at 9 tonight.”

Rachel’s face lit up at the prospect of a late-night private meeting, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation and curiosity about what I might want to discuss.

I then turned to Rose, who had been watching the entire exchange with obvious interest. “Rose, I’ll ping you later. Are you free around 2 this afternoon?”

“Of course,” Rose beamed, her warm brown eyes conveying genuine pleasure at being included in my schedule.

Cecilia, however, narrowed her crimson eyes at the string of appointments I was making.

I took Seraphina’s offered hand, our fingers lacing together with practiced ease as we prepared to leave the lecture hall. Her skin was cool against mine, but I could feel the slight tremor that betrayed her anticipation despite her composed exterior.

And where were we going?

Back to my room, of course.

After all, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I said no to such a direct request?