The Extra is a Hero?

The soft click of my boots echoed down the marble corridor leading to the Principal's office.

It was strangely quiet too quiet for a morning when half the Academy was drowning in scandal and gossip.

I stopped in front of a large mahogany door. Golden runes shimmered faintly along its surface, forming the crest of the Arcade Hunter Academy, a sword crossed with a quill. Beneath it, words were engraved in ancient script:

"Through Strength and Wisdom, the Balance Shall Stand."

I took a breath, straightened my uniform jacket, and knocked twice.

Knock. Knock.

For a moment, silence.

Then, an old but gentle voice flowed through the air.

"Come in."

The door creaked open on its own, a faint gust of mana brushing through my hair.

Wow, I thought. Fancy door trick. Probably to intimidate first-years or impress nobles.

I stepped inside.

The air here was… different. Softer. Heavy with history.

Bookshelves lined one wall, packed with tomes whose spines glowed faintly with enchantments.

The other wall was decorated with portraits — the long line of principals who came before. Each painted pair of eyes seemed to follow me, judging quietly.

And at the center of it all sat an old man at a wide desk, reading through a pile of documents.

He looked up when I entered.

His white beard framed a face marked with deep lines — not of cruelty, but of time. His eyes glowed with warmth, and when he smiled, it felt like watching a grandfather greet his grandchild.

"Ahh," he said softly, voice kind. "You must be Michael Wilson. Please, have a seat."

I hesitated for half a second — this was Herald Crimson, the Principal of Arcade Hunter Academy… and one of the Council Elders, the same people who practically ruled the world.

Yeah. No pressure.

"Thank you, Headmaster,"

I said, bowing slightly before sitting where he gestured to a cozy sofa set arranged like a small living room. Between us was a glass table with a basket of neatly arranged fruits.

Herald set aside his papers and stood, walking toward me with the measured steps of someone who'd seen too many centuries to rush anything.

When he sat across from me, his presence filled the space not with power, but calm authority. The kind that made you want to listen.

---

A Conversation with the Principal

"It's nice to meet you, Michael Wilson," he began.

I stood again out of habit, giving a respectful nod.

"It's my honor to meet one of the Council Elders."

Herald chuckled, waving a hand dismissively.

"No, no. Today, I am not a Council Elder. Today, I am only the Principal of Arcade Academy."

That caught me off guard.

Usually, when someone has that much power, they love to flex it. But his words… carried sincerity.

"Yes, Headmaster," I said cautiously, sitting again.

He studied me for a moment — not with suspicion, but curiosity. Like he was looking past my appearance and into something deeper.

It made me oddly self-conscious.

Then he smiled again. "The reason I called you, Michael, is to apologize to you personally."

I blinked. "…To me?"

"Yes." He folded his hands on the table, tone heavy but kind. "As Principal, I failed to notice the unfairness and corruption that occurred under my nose, the false allegations, the instructors who colluded with noble families. I'm deeply sorry you had to endure that."

For a few seconds, I didn't know what to say.

The man in front of me is an SSS-rank Hunter and one of the world's highest authorities — was apologizing to a first-year student.

I quickly waved my hands. "Ah, please, Headmaster, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known what was happening."

He seemed pleased by my answer, his eyes softening. "I see you're not one of those who are blinded by power or anger. That's good. Very good."

He leaned back slightly. "You're Rank 1 among the first-years, Chief of the Disciplinary Committee, and if I'm not mistaken, your growth in strength has been… quite impressive."

I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. "Just a little progress, sir."

He laughed a deep, hearty laugh that seemed to warm the whole room.

"Modest, too. I like that. Keep up that attitude and you might just represent the Academy in the World School Tournament."

That made my heart skip.

The Tournament… right that was coming up next term.

And with it — a dozen dangerous events I'd rather not repeat from the game's storyline.

I kept my face neutral. "Thank you, sir."

Herald watched me for a moment longer, then his expression shifted slightly from gentle to solemn.

"Still," he said, "you've been wronged. And as Principal, I must compensate you for that."

"Compensate me…?" I repeated blankly.

He nodded, then raised his right hand.

When he opened his palm, a faint blue glow appeared — and floating above it was a ring.

Not just any ring. Its surface shimmered like liquid sapphire, runes pulsing faintly around the edges.

"This," he said softly, "was forged by an old friend of mine — a dwarven blacksmith from the Dwarven Kingdom. He used Urel Metal, a rare mineral that only forms in the heart of ancient mana veins."

My eyes widened. Wait… Urel Metal?

That was an endgame-tier crafting material! You could forge artifacts with that!

And if his "friend" was who I thought it was, then… yep. Probably the Dwarf King himself.

Which meant this man in front of me wasn't just old — he was ancient. If my guess was right, he had to be at least two centuries old.

Herald smiled faintly, probably reading the astonishment on my face.

"This ring," he continued, "is an Epic-grade accessory. It increases your total mana capacity by thirty percent… and it can store one skill of any rank for later use."

For a moment, my brain simply stopped functioning.

Thirty Percent.

That was insane. For a mage, it was like being given an entire second mana core.

And the second effect — storing a skill? That was ridiculous. I could load up a high-rank spell or attack and unleash it instantly in combat, even with empty mana reserves.

Basically… an emergency one-shot weapon.

My fingers twitched with pure greed.

Herald chuckled knowingly. "I can see your eyes glowing, young man."

I quickly composed my face, pretending to be calm.

"It's… an impressive artifact, sir."

"Indeed it is," he said. "Go on."

He flipped his hand gently, and the ring floated forward, hovering toward me like a small comet.

I raised my hand instinctively — and the moment I did, the ring shot forward, sliding smoothly onto my little finger.

It fit perfectly… and then vanished from sight.

I blinked. "Eh?"

I looked down at my hand.

Empty.

No ring. No glow. Nothing.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

Did this old man just scam me?

Was that an illusion ring? A tutorial trap?

I looked up at the Herald in mild panic.

He laughed again, clearly amused.

"Don't worry. The ring is still on your finger. It has a concealment enchantment. Simply, it will appear in your consciousness."

Ah. Right. Conscious command.

I closed my eyes and focused.

Show yourself.

A faint shimmer danced around my finger, and the sapphire ring materialized once more.

Herald smiled, nodding in approval. "Good. If you ever wish to check its full properties, visit the Appraisal Room. They'll explain it properly."

I forced a polite smile. "Understood."

'Not necessary. My system already does that for me.'

Herald's gaze softened again.

"Michael… I promise you this: There will be no more discrimination in this Academy. Those who took bribes or allowed bias will be dealt with — severely."

The air around him shifted — faint, but unmistakable. A glimpse of the power hidden behind the kind smile.

The power of a Council Elder.

I nodded firmly. "I… no — all the students believe you, Headmaster."

He smiled again, standing from his seat. That was my cue to do the same.

"I think that's all for now," he said kindly. "You may return to your classes."

"Yes, Headmaster." I bowed once more.

As I turned to leave, I could still feel his gaze not threatening, not probing.

It was… protective. Like a grandfather watching his grandson head out into the world.

When I stepped outside the office and the heavy door closed behind me, I finally exhaled a long breath I'd been holding in.

"Phew…" I muttered, rubbing my neck. "That was… intense."

Then I looked down at my hand, where the invisible ring shimmered faintly.

A grin crept onto my face.

"Totally worth it."

---

Back inside the Principal's office, Herald Crimson stood quietly, gazing at the now-empty sofa.

The warmth in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a deep, unreadable calm.

Then — shoosh — two shadows flickered into existence behind him.

Kneeling silently were two figures clad in black, faces hidden beneath hoods. The faint glint of daggers peeked from their belts.

"Report," Herald said quietly.

The first assassin spoke, voice distorted by a mask. "The investigation is complete. Thirty-eight instructors were found colluding with noble and royal families. Some gained entry through their recommendations."

The second added, "Sixteen guards from the Law Enforcement Hall were also discovered to have noble connections, sir."

Herald closed his eyes. His face — moments ago so gentle — now carried a weight of sorrow.

"…So many," he whispered. "Even within the Academy meant to protect equality."

He opened his eyes, the sorrow replaced by steel.

"Write letters," he said. "To each family. Include the names of their affiliated instructors and guards. And at the bottom of each letter… write my name."

Both assassins lifted their heads slightly, eyes widening beneath their masks.

They understood what that meant.

No noble would dare defy a letter signed personally by Herald Crimson, bearer of the Order Seal — the ultimate authority under the Council.

"Yes, sir," they said together.

And just as silently as they came, the two assassins vanished — the air rippling faintly in their wake.

Herald stood there for a long while, alone, staring out the window where sunlight spilled across the Academy gardens.

"…The balance must be restored," he murmured softly. "Even if I must burn the roots myself."

(To be Continue)