Strongest Extra In The Academy

The cab rolled to a gradual stop, its engine humming softly before the brakes hissed against the pavement. The old driver leaned back slightly, turning his head just enough to glance at the passenger behind him.

"We're here, son. Arkhai Arena." His voice carried a gravelly steadiness, shaped by years of habit.

Kaidren's dark eyes shifted to the side window. Outside, the looming white walls of the colossus rose like a mountain of stone and steel. The sheer scale of it demanded awe, but his face remained unchanged. He reached into his sling bag, pulled out a sleek black card, and extended it forward.

"Here's my card."

The driver accepted it carefully, his wrinkled brows lifting as the edges caught the sunlight. The insignia of Aegis gleamed across the surface, its etching sharp, its weight unmistakable. The man let out a low whistle.

"Now that's a beauty. You must have a fine-paying job, lad. Cards like these don't just land in anyone's wallet."

Kaidren didn't bother correcting him. "Something like that," he said flatly.

The driver chuckled, sliding the card into the dashboard scanner. His calloused fingers tapped the screen, entering the fare. Numbers blinked to life:

0.1 AUR

Kaidren's eyes lingered on it. Inside, his thought was dry, unimpressed. That's all? Against the hundred million sitting untouched in his account, the fare was no more than a speck of dust caught in sunlight. The scanner beeped, transaction approved.

The old man handed the card back with a nod. "All set. Appreciate the ride."

Kaidren accepted it silently, tucked it into his bag, and pushed open the cab door. Warm air spilled in, carrying the faint hum of late afternoon life. His shoes hit the pavement with a muted tap.

The sight that towered over him was a testament to grandeur.

The Arkhai Arena stretched across the city's heart like a frozen wave of stone and steel. Its curving walls shimmered faintly beneath the sinking light, arcs bent upward like a monument sculpted by gods. Massive banners cascaded from its surface, each painted with the symbols that had set the city on fire.

On one side, the black flag of Kairos Circle hung heavy, its skull emblem glaring with eyes hollow yet alive, the grin etched in unnatural perfection. Opposite it, Echoflux's emerald flag shimmered, trimmed in gold, its stylized leaf pulsing faintly as though veins of light ran through it.

The plaza around the arena was no less deliberate in its design. Glowing poles—slim and precise—lined the walkways in concentric rings. Their lights shifted through blues, purples, and greens, each pulse releasing glittering particles that drifted upward like fragments of stardust before vanishing.

It was spectacle meant to dazzle.

Kaidren's gaze lingered for a second, nothing more, before moving toward the main entrance.

Five men waited there.

Four of them stood aligned, clad in black tuxedos sharp enough to slice air, silver badges gleaming on their chests—Tier 4 Guardians. The fifth stood at their center, posture pristine, his badge etched gold. Tier 5.

As Kaidren approached, the Tier 4 men moved in sync, stepping forward with a practiced barrier. Their expressions were firm, professional, eyes scanning him with silent caution.

But before a word could be spoken, a hand lifted.

The Tier 5's.

Long fingers cut the air, halting them in place. The man's black hair was slick and precise, his glasses flashing in the light, concealing his eyes completely.

Kaidren's own gaze shifted only slightly, noting the man's attention wasn't fixed on his face. It was lower. His hand. The ring.

The memory sharpened at once—Manager Logan's gift. A band tied to Aegis Bank, its invisible credentials unlocking privileges across two hundred corporations worldwide. Not jewelry. A master key.

The Tier 5's lips curved into a faint, measured smile. He bowed deeply, posture folding with perfect control. In perfect sync, the four Tier 4 Guardians mirrored the motion, their heads lowered, their voices rising in unison.

"We apologize, esteemed guest. We did not realize one such as yourself would grace us today."

Their tone rang with precision, respect sharpened to a blade's edge, but behind it, the faint tremor of nerves lingered.

Kaidren's brow twitched—barely there, the smallest flicker. Inside, there was surprise. Outside, he was stone.

"I'm only here to place a bet." His voice carried no flourish, no arrogance. Plain words, dropped like pebbles into silence.

The Tier 5 straightened, bow held low. "Then it would be my honor to personally escort you to the underground betting halls. A figure of your standing should not be left to wander alone."

Kaidren considered it. He preferred solitude—always—but the arena was unknown territory. Efficiency outweighed preference.

"…Fine."

The Guardian's smile sharpened by a fraction. "Wonderful. I shall ensure everything is prepared for you." His fingers brushed the bridge of his glasses, pushing them higher, a gleam of light masking his eyes once more.

The Tier 4 men remained bent, unmoving, their reverence absolute as the man turned fully to Kaidren.

"If you would graciously follow me, esteemed guest," he said, his voice softened into respectful cadence, "I will lead you to your private room."

Kaidren gave no answer beyond the simple act of moving forward, steps calm, detached.

What he didn't see was the current already flowing.

The man's glasses were not glass alone. Microtech woven within had scanned the ring, decrypting its unique Aegis code in silence. And with a flicker invisible to the naked eye, signals pulsed outward through unseen networks.

The message spread fast, too fast.

A guest of rare standing had entered the arena.

By the time Kaidren's foot crossed the threshold, whispers had already begun to form in the underground halls.

____________________________

Kaidren followed the Tier 5 guardian through the wide glass doors of the entrance. The man walked half a step ahead, posture sharp, hands neatly folded behind his back as though even his breathing had been trained to discipline.

The arena's first floor opened wide before them. Counters stretched across the massive hall, gleaming beneath the overhead lights. The white-tiled floor shone with a glassy finish, each step Kaidren took reflecting faintly beneath his shoes. Red line barriers had already been arranged, forming neat lanes that tomorrow would be choked with people pushing toward the counters.

Workers moved quickly across the space, their motions a rehearsed chaos. Some climbed ladders to hang massive banners—Kairos Circle's skull insignia leering from black cloth, Echoflux's glowing leaf shimmering across green and gold. Others stocked the retail stalls that lined the walls, clattering pans and stacking boxes, preparing for the flood of hungry spectators that tomorrow would bring.

The lighting overhead was soft but deliberate, warm enough to calm nerves but bright enough to dazzle the eye. It painted the empty hall in a golden glow, as though this unfinished stage had already been set for grandeur.

The Tier 5 slowed. He bowed his head slightly, lips curving into an apologetic smile.

"My apologies, esteemed guest. The arena is still in a messy state. I hope you can forgive us."

Kaidren's eyes moved once across the workers and banners, then fell back to him, flat and unreadable. He shrugged. "Don't mind it."

The man's smile deepened, and he dipped his head again, as though the smallest leniency were a gift. "Thank you for your understanding. I promise, we will not disappoint you. Starting now."

Kaidren said nothing, his silence as sharp as his voice had been. He simply walked forward, letting the man pace half a step ahead once more.

At the far end of the hall stood a wide elevator, its polished metal reflecting the overhead lights. The Tier 5 turned and bowed once more, his tone dipped in courtesy.

"I must apologize once more, esteemed guest. Please allow me to operate the elevator for you. There will be a short wait."

Kaidren let out a faint breath, the sigh almost inaudible. His patience for courtesy was thin. "I don't mind."

"Thank you for your patience."

The man bowed yet again, stepping inside. His fingers moved across the buttons with deliberate precision, every press a performance. The small digital screen above the elevator door flickered to life, glowing bright red with the words:

Floor -1

Kaidren's gaze touched it once, then slid away. He cared little for details like this.

The elevator descended with a low hum, the vibration faint but steady underfoot. After a moment, it slowed, then stopped.

The doors parted.

What greeted Kaidren was unexpected.

Rows of workers stood aligned in front of the elevator, their postures bent forward in perfect bows. Their voices rose as one, echoing through the underground chamber:

"Welcome, esteemed guest!"

The sound filled the space, too loud, too rehearsed. Kaidren's eyes lingered on them briefly as he stepped forward, his expression unchanged.

The Tier 5 guardian stepped out first, smiling politely as if unveiling a gift. "I hope the greeting is to your liking."

Kaidren's gaze drifted slowly across the bowed heads before him. His reply was plain, steady. "I don't really mind the greetings. But… I appreciate it."

The man bowed again, lower this time, his voice smooth. "Thank you."

Kaidren moved forward, finally taking in the underground interior.

It was lavish.

A wide red carpet stretched across the floor, trimmed with gold, its fibers muffling every footstep. Above, a chandelier the size of a small car hung from the ceiling, its crystal branches scattering light across the room in ripples of brilliance. The walls bore carved designs of sweeping arcs and gilded patterns, polished until they gleamed.

At the far end stood wide counters manned by attendants, each counter backed by a towering digital screen. The largest screen displayed rolling numbers and shifting names—betting odds updating in real time, alive with constant fluctuation.

Multiple hallways split off in different directions, each one lined with ornate doors that led deeper into private rooms. Around the open floor, chairs and tables had been set neatly, their polished surfaces catching the chandelier's light.

Dozens of people already filled the space. They spoke in low conversation, glasses clinking, voices mingling in a steady hum.

But Kaidren's entrance broke the rhythm.

Heads turned. Eyes lingered.

They noticed the black hair, the plain eyes, the unshaken expression. They noticed the way he walked—calm, deliberate, as though the chaos of the world did not exist. And above all, they noticed who walked beside him: a Tier 5 guardian, posture bent ever so slightly in deference.

Whispers began to stir.

"Who is he?"

"Must be a rich second-generation kid."

"Tch… look at that welcome. Exaggerated nonsense."

Some spoke with awe, others with spite. But the weight of their stares pressed nonetheless.

The Tier 5 guardian adjusted his glasses with one hand, the light catching across the lens as he spoke smoothly.

"Esteemed guest, if you will allow me, I shall now escort you to a private room. There, you may view all the personally gathered information on both Apex clans. With this knowledge, you may place your bet with confidence."

Kaidren gave the faintest nod. "Alright."

He walked forward, his hands sliding into his pockets. He had no interest in the whispers or the stares; they were meaningless noise, scraps of envy and assumption.

But what he didn't notice was the flick of fingers against the rim of the guardian's glasses. Small. Subtle. Silent.

The workers who had bowed at the elevator straightened, their faces suddenly sharp, their posture shifting from courtesy to cold efficiency. The silent message was clear: remove those who had spoken with spite.

The whispers in the crowd quieted, as though some instinct warned them too late.

Kaidren walked on, unaware, his expression still flat, his stride calm, the world around him adjusting itself like an elaborate play meant solely for his passage.