Strongest Extra In The Academy

The train gave a soft jolt beneath Kaidren's shoes, steady rather than violent, a subtle reminder that the journey had begun. The hum of the engines deepened, smooth and precise, carrying the entire carriage forward.

Through the wide window, attendants and passengers on the platform began to slide backward, their gestures and hurried movements stretching like shadows as speed increased. Kaidren rested his chin lightly against his palm, expression flat, eyes following until the figures blurred into nothing.

The brightness of the station gave way to gray walls, the train slipping into its underground tunnel. Stone stretched endlessly across the window, featureless and dull, and Kaidren's gaze quickly lost interest. He turned back toward the table.

Across from him, the red-haired man he'd noticed earlier was already slumped into a crooked posture, his body bent like a letter C. His mouth hung slightly open, a faint line of drool gathering at the corner. Kaidren's stare lingered on him for a moment, expression unchanged, before he blinked once and looked away. Not worth caring about.

His own body felt heavier than usual, not exhaustion but the pull of stillness, the kind of weight that made rest tempting. That quiet was broken by the sharp rhythm of footsteps outside—heels clicking against the corridor floor. Each strike came closer until it stopped right outside the door.

Three knocks followed. Steady. Controlled.

"Excuse me," a feminine voice said from beyond the panel, clear and professional, "would the passengers like some refreshment?"

Kaiden's throat was dry. The sweetness of caramel and cream from the earlier ice cream still clung faintly at the back of his mouth. Without hesitation, he answered, his tone plain and even.

"Yes."

A soft mechanical click responded, and the door slid aside.

Standing there was a woman in the same polished blue uniform as the attendants outside, posture crisp but softened by a polite smile. Beside her rolled a service cart, white and sleek, its compartments neatly closed, several bottles of water and other drinks arranged in order on top.

Her gaze landed on Kaidren first, then flicked briefly to the red-haired man slouched in his seat. A quiet chuckle slipped past her lips before she refocused on the only one awake.

"What drink would you like?" she asked.

"Just water," Kaidren replied, flat as ever, his face showing nothing.

The woman nodded, bent slightly, and opened one of the compartments. She drew out a neat stack of white paper cups, separated one with practiced precision, and uncapped a bottle of clear water. She poured it nearly to the brim before sliding it across the table with careful hands.

Kaiden reached out with the same measured calm, took the cup, and gave her a plain, "Thank you." He raised it to his lips, the water cooling his throat instantly, cutting through the lingering sweetness.

"You're welcome," the attendant said with a small nod, her tone as smooth as her movement. She slid the door closed with quiet efficiency and was gone.

For a moment Kaidren's gaze lingered on the lock. The scanner should have kept the door sealed, yet she had opened it effortlessly. Probably a key card, he reasoned, something given only to staff. It wasn't worth more thought.

When the cup emptied, Kaidren activated his ability. Super Strength flared faintly inside him, precise and tightly controlled. His fingers pressed gently, folding the paper cup in on itself until it became nothing more than a damp pebble. He dropped it into his sling bag without a sound, leaned back, and let his eyes drift halfway shut.

Silence filled the room again. The faint hum of the engines, the occasional shift of the tracks below. He let his body settle deeper into the cushion, ready to rest—

—until a sudden light brushed across the window.

Kaidren's eyes lifted. The cement walls of the tunnel had given way to brightness. A new platform slid into view, glowing beneath rows of fluorescent panels. The train's speed softened, the hum of the engines lowering as it eased to a crawl.

The overhead speakers crackled, the deep voice of the conductor steady and deliberate:

"We have arrived at City F, District 3. Please remain seated until the train has come to a complete stop."

Kaidren blinked once, chin tilting slightly as he stared at the view outside. His voice came out flat, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"So fast."

Not wonder. Not complaint. Just an observation.

The train halted with a final smooth shudder. Doors hissed open in the distance, and movement stirred in the corridor. Passengers stood, luggage dragged along the carpet, conversations blooming into the quiet air.

Through his window, Kaidren watched the station. Its wide platforms mirrored the one he'd left earlier: high ceilings, bright lights, uniformed officers standing guard, cameras pointed at every angle. Nothing new. Nothing surprising.

In the crowd outside, a man stumbled forward. His foot caught the edge of a bag, nearly sending him into another passenger. He waved his arms clumsily, barely keeping balance. Kaidren's gaze tracked the motion briefly, then slid away.

He leaned back, shoulders sinking deeper into the cushion, eyes steady on the window but unfocused. His face didn't shift, his breathing stayed calm. Whatever chaos moved outside, it wasn't his problem.

All that mattered was the ride continuing.

And so, he waited for the train to move again.

_______________________

Time had passed without notice—broken only by the occasional station stops announced overhead. None of it mattered to him. His eyes had stayed on the window, watching the blur of tunnels and lights repeat endlessly, like a cycle that had no meaning.

Then the static crackled.

"Attention passengers," the conductor's calm voice filled the carriage, steady as before. "We have arrived at City B, District 1. Please gather your belongings before exiting. Thank you for riding with us."

Kaiden's plain eyes shifted from the glass. Slowly, he straightened his back and stretched, arms rising until the faint stiffness in his shoulders loosened. His movements carried no urgency, like a man waking from a nap he never took. He rose.

The door clicked open with a soft press of the handle, sliding aside to reveal the corridor. He stepped out.

Across the way, the red-and-yellow haired man was also standing, hoodie tugged into place, his cracked phone vanishing into his pocket. Their eyes didn't meet. Kaidren didn't care to. He simply moved on, his steps silent against the deep-blue carpet.

The platform was alive now—passengers gathering bags, voices overlapping, some rushing, others too slow, blocking the flow. Kaidren passed through them all with the same calm stillness, neither hurrying nor lagging. When the stairway appeared, he blended into the moving crowd, ascending without pause.

A while later, the city had finally greeted him the moment he emerged above ground.

Light poured across the streets in sheets of gold. The late afternoon sun painted the skyscrapers in flame, their glass faces catching the glow and scattering it across the roads. Shadows stretched long, cutting through smaller shops pressed along the sidewalks—cafés glowing with neon signs, convenience stores, diners humming with chatter.

The air buzzed. Energy. Voices. Color.

Rows of lantern posts lined the street, each one strung with fresh banners. Not a wrinkle among them, as though pressed only hours ago. They all proclaimed the same message:

The Kessen Match. Tomorrow.

Two insignias faced each other across the fabric. On the left—Kairos Circle. A black flag, stamped with a skull drawn in cruel precision. Its hollow eyes sharp, jaw curved into a grin too perfect, too knowing. On the right—Echoflux. A green flag trimmed with gold, its center glowing faintly with the design of a stylized leaf, alive with a pulse that made it seem to breathe.

Between them, bold letters blazed: The Apex Clash.

Kaidren's gaze lingered long enough to register the details, then slid away.

But the city didn't let him ignore it. The match was everywhere.

Banners stretched across the streets in bright chains, strung from lamp to lamp. Families strolled beneath, pointing upward as though the decorations themselves carried meaning. Children laughed, their voices shrill, waving paper flags with one clan's emblem or the other. Teenagers grouped in clusters, their words tumbling over each other—Kairos, Echoflux, Apex—names thrown into the air like sparks.

Excitement thickened the atmosphere, vibrating through every corner. The city lived and breathed it.

Kaidren did not mind. He slipped quietly along the edge of the road, avoiding both the noise and the clusters of people who carried it.

The street opened ahead, and he raised his hand, palm outward. A cab slowed almost immediately. White, sleek, unremarkable. Its window rolled down, revealing an old man behind the wheel.

His face was lined deep with years, his hair thinning to wisps of white that curled at the sides. Black eyes sat steady, attentive, though dulled by time. His polo shirt, once white, had worn soft into gray, paired with faded blue pants that had seen decades of wash.

"Where to?" the driver asked, voice low and direct.

"The Arkhai Arena," Kaidren replied, plain as ever.

The driver's brows lifted slightly. "Big night tomorrow," he muttered, then nodded once. "Sure thing."

Kaidren moved to pull the door handle, but paused. His eyes narrowed faintly, a thought sparking.

"You take cards?"

The old man blinked, then let out a short laugh. "Of course. Every cab's got it. Don't worry about that."

Kaiden's gaze steadied on him a moment longer, then fell away. It made sense. Of course this world would make it simple. Convenient. And better—he had no patience for detours to Aegis Bank just to drag physical currency out.

Without another word, he slid into the back seat.

The cab's engine hummed, smooth and steady as it merged into traffic. The driver tapped lightly at the mounted screen, and a click sounded before old music drifted through the speakers. Strings, faint and winding, carrying an air of years gone. Not lively, not mournful—just unhurried.

The notes filled the silence, wrapping the cab in something quiet, something detached from the fever of the streets outside.

Kaiden leaned back, half-lidded eyes staring out the window. The city blurred past in streaks of gold and shadow. His face didn't shift, but his thoughts moved.

Unlike when he had gone to the Dimerian store—leaping across rooftops, cutting through the air—this time he chose differently. A cab.

Because he noticed.

There were more surveillance drones in the sky.

Gliding, hovering, their eyes glowing faintly against the darkening blue. Watching. Recording.

And Kaidren had no patience for being noticed.