An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge

After registering for the Beast Mastery Club with Alicia, I parted ways with her. There were other clubs I needed to join—ones Alicia wasn't particularly interested in.

First on my list? The Sword Club.

Why? Because it wasn't just any club—it was a gathering place for some of the most exceptional sword geniuses in the academy. Joining it would provide me with an opportunity to refine my swordsmanship while observing and learning from the best. It also didn't hurt that many of the main characters, including Alex, Cassandra, Althea, and Akira, were members.

But there was one person I was particularly curious to meet—Leon Katz.

Leon was an eccentric but brilliant swordsman. Remembering his antics from the game, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I approached the magnificent building housing the Sword Club.

At the top of the enormous entrance doors, a grand insignia depicted two swords clashing—a fitting emblem for what awaited inside.

Upon entering, I was greeted by the sight of multiple smaller dojos scattered across the vast hall, each with platforms where students practiced under the guidance of senior members and instructors. The rhythmic sound of clashing swords and determined grunts filled the air.

Roughly a hundred people were present, a mix of club veterans and first-years eager to make their mark.

I scanned the area for the registration desk and spotted a line of about fifteen students patiently waiting. Quietly, I joined the queue, observing my surroundings as I waited my turn.

My attention was drawn to the intense practice sessions. Students were engaged in drills, their swords cutting through the air with precision. Some were sparring, their movements fluid and calculated, while others focused on form, sweat dripping from their brows.

Then, my eyes settled on someone who stood out from the rest.

A boy with golden blonde hair practiced in one of the training areas, his sword slicing through the air with relentless speed and precision. In the span of a minute, he must have swung his sword hundreds of times, each strike as sharp and deliberate as the last.

A crowd of onlookers gathered near him, their admiration evident as they watched his flawless movements.

"That's Lucas Creg," I murmured to myself, recognizing him instantly.

He was the current president of the Sword Club—a prodigy who had already reached the low-tier Blademaster rank. Few swordsmen in the academy could match his level of skill, and even fewer possessed the discipline and precision he exhibited.

'If he weren't deliberately suppressing his level to focus on technique, he could probably split that training ring in two with a single swing,' I mused, an amused smile tugging at my lips.

He was fierce in every sense of the word, but what impressed me most was that he hadn't risen to this position through connections or family ties. His accomplishments were the result of relentless hard work and innate talent.

'He's earned his title.'

Even I found myself mesmerized, my hands itching for the chance to spar with him.

"Next," the voice at the registration desk called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I stepped forward, providing my name and details to the boy behind the counter. He typed into the computer, his brow furrowing as he read my profile.

Then, without looking up, he asked, "Have you taken any potions to boost your rank?"

My lips twitched, caught somewhere between amusement and irritation.

It took me a moment to process the question, but then realization dawned. Of course. A first-year student at the lower Advanced rank was practically unheard of. Naturally, he'd assume I'd taken shortcuts.

"Are you accusing me of doping?" I asked, my tone sharp as I fixed him with a cold stare. "Do you even know who I am? Arthur Ludwig, heir to the Ludwig Duchy."

The boy's face paled, panic flashing in his eyes as he stammered, "N-No, sir, I didn't mean it like that! I wasn't accusing you! I was just asking—"

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, a voice cut through the tension.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's going on here?"

Lucas Creg approached, his casual stride belying the sharpness in his gaze. He looked from me to the boy at the counter, clearly sensing the awkward atmosphere.

The boy hurriedly explained the situation, his voice shaky.

Lucas listened intently, then nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, so that's the issue." Turning to me, he offered a small, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry if my friend here offended you," Lucas said, his tone calm and diplomatic. "But you have to admit—it's not every day we see a first-year at the Advanced rank of swordsmanship."

His words were polite, but his eyes held a spark of curiosity.

'So he's intrigued,' I thought, suppressing a grin.

"No offense taken," I said, keeping my tone steady. "I understand the skepticism—it's not every day someone genius like me shows up." I said with a light chukle.

Lucas chuckled at my lighthearted comment, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ha~Ha, indeed," he said, playing along. "So, are you still interested in joining the club?"

"Of course," I replied without hesitation.

"Well then," he said, a sly grin forming, "how about we see just how much of a genius you really are?"

I smirked. "I was hoping you'd say that. I could use a little warm-up myself."

"Perfect." Lucas nodded approvingly. "Give me a moment to find a suitable opponent. Meanwhile, feel free to look around."

I nodded and wandered off, letting my eyes roam over the training rings where students were sparring. The clash of blades echoed in the air, and the intense concentration on each participant's face was palpable.

The excitement stirred within me as I watched. Every move, every strike, and every defence held lessons for those willing to observe closely. My eyes narrowed, focusing on the fluidity of their footwork and the precision of their attacks.

'There's a lot to learn here,' I thought, the thrill of competition surging through me.

"Arthur."

The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Turning around, I saw Lucas approaching with an instructor and a senior student. The student looked older than me by a couple of years, his confident demeanor and sturdy frame suggesting experience.

Lucas gestured for me to join them, and I hurried over.

"Arthur," the instructor began, his tone measured, "you'll be sparring with Sean. We want to see your skills, so give it everything you've got. No holding back."

"Sean is just one minor rank above you, but there's no need to worry. This will be an exchange of sword blows only—no mana allowed. The goal isn't to win but to demonstrate your skills. Understood?" Lucas said

"Yes," I replied, nodding.

Sean, standing opposite me, sighed, his expression betraying boredom. His gaze swept over me, clearly underestimating what I could do.

I couldn't blame him. If I were in his shoes, sparring against a first-year might feel like a waste of time too.

Sean and I stepped onto the ring, each picking a practice sword from the stands at the edge.

"Sean, Second Year," he said, bowing slightly.

"Arthur, First Year," I replied, returning the bow.

It was a tradition in the Sword Club—and most other clubs—to bow and introduce yourself before a spar. A sign of mutual respect for your opponent, no matter their rank or skill.

Sean straightened, his bored expression replaced with a faintly more serious one. Yet, his eyes still carried a hint of skepticism as he watched me take my stance. He raised his sword, waiting for the signal to begin.

I mirrored his stance, inhaling deeply to clear my mind of distractions. This wasn't just a spar for me—it was a chance to show everyone who is the new genius of sword club.

"Start!" the instructor called, signaling the beginning of the match.

Sean wasted no time. With his body low and his grip firm, he charged at me like a raging bull, his heavy practice sword slicing through the air with raw power.

'A brute force fighter,' I noted, watching him close the gap in an instant.

The air grew heavy under the weight of his momentum, the sheer force of his approach making the atmosphere tense. To anyone else, he might have seemed unstoppable.

But to me?

It felt almost laughably simple. Compared to the life-and-death battles I had endured against demons, this was nothing more than a warm-up.

As Sean's sword bore down on me, I tightened my grip, my muscles coiling like springs. My mind calculated the angles and trajectories.

'Let's show him what real swordsmanship looks like.'
Your adventure continues at empire

Arthur effortlessly parried the incoming attack, his movements precise and fluid. Without missing a beat, he launched a swift counterattack.

The second-year student froze for a split second, clearly taken aback by Arthur's speed. His initial confidence wavered, embarrassment flickering across his face as his opponent ducked and dodged his swings with ease.

'This kid's faster than I thought,' Sean realized, gritting his teeth.