The Extra is a Hero?

Evening descended quietly over Arcade City.

The sun dipped behind the western ridge, painting the towers of the Academy in molten gold.

From the windows of the central spire — the Principal's Office — the view stretched far, reaching even the royal citadel glimmering faintly in the distance.

Inside that tower, the light dimmed.

Principal Herald Crimson stood before the wide window, hands folded behind his back. The faint hum of runic lamps filled the silence.

Moments ago, he had sent the letters. Thirty-eight names of instructors. Sixteen guards. Each attached to a noble or royal family — and each stamped with his personal Order Seal.

The moment those letters reached their recipients, the Academy's balance of power would shift forever.

Herald sighed softly, watching a flock of birds scatter into the evening air.

So many years he had fought to keep the Academy neutral ground — a sanctuary for learning, free from noble influence. Yet the roots of greed had crept in regardless, coiling like weeds through marble walls and golden halls.

A faint voice broke the silence.

"Still worrying, old friend?"

The air rippled — and shadows formed behind him.

No doors opened. No footsteps sounded. Yet five figures appeared, each cloaked in pale light, their faces obscured as if veiled by mist.

Their presence pressed subtly against the room — not with hostility, but weight. The kind that could crush nations.

The Council Elders.

Herald didn't turn. "You came faster than expected."

"We felt the stir," said one, voice aged but sharp. "The noble houses are in turmoil. Thirty-eight names… is a heavy toll."

Another spoke, tone cold and metallic. "You acted without consulting the Council, Herald."

Herald finally turned, meeting their indistinct gazes with calm composure. "Because if I had waited, the evidence would have been buried before your secretaries even delivered the message."

"Hmm…" murmured a third Elder. "You're accusing the nobles under our alliance, and even a few royal affiliates. This could start a political storm."

"It already has," Herald said simply. "The media leak was no coincidence. Someone wanted to expose the corruption publicly. I merely ensured justice followed swiftly after."

The second Elder's mist flickered faintly — irritation, perhaps.

"Do you realize how this affects the Council's standing? The Academy represents neutrality. To expose internal bribery on national broadcasts—"

"—is to remind the world that no one is above the law," Herald interrupted gently. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chamber like tempered steel.

Silence followed.

Even among the Council, few dared to speak over Herald Crimson. He wasn't just another Elder — he was one of the founding members, bearer of the first Order Seal.

Finally, the first Elder's tone softened. "You've changed little, old friend. Always protecting the young… even when it puts you at odds with crowns and swords alike."

Herald smiled faintly. "If we forget who we fight for, what's the point of the Council at all?"

No one answered that.

For a while, only the low hum of mana crystals filled the silence — the sound of the city's magic network flowing beneath the floor.

Then, a ripple of mana shimmered through the air — a signal.

Herald raised a hand, and the projection window opened on the wall.

The holographic seal of the Belnic Family — a golden falcon perched on crossed blades — appeared.

The image solidified into a live projection of an older man kneeling in a lavish office. He wore fine silk robes trimmed with silver, his face pale and sweat-soaked.

"Principal Herald Crimson," the man said, voice trembling slightly. "I, Baron Edrin Belnic, head of House Belnic… have come to offer a formal apology."

Behind him, two other men knelt — one of them instantly recognizable from the Academy's records: Instructor Relaon.

Herald's gaze didn't change. "Baron Edrin. You understand why this call was made."

"Yes, yes…" the Baron stammered. "I had no knowledge that my… my house funds were being used to bribe Academy instructors. It was the fault of my nephew. He acted—"

"Enough." Herald's tone was calm but absolute. The Baron froze mid-sentence.

"You think I called you here to hear excuses? The evidence is conclusive. The transactions bear your signature. Whether it was your hand or your nephew's doesn't change the truth."

The Baron's lips quivered, his pride collapsing under invisible weight. He bowed lower, forehead nearly touching the floor.

"I… accept responsibility," he whispered. "House Belnic offers reparations. We will withdraw from the Academy's sponsorship and donate three hundred million ℜ to the public scholarship fund."

Herald's expression remained unreadable. "And?"

The Baron swallowed. "We will exile those within the house who took part in the corruption. Including my nephew… and my son."

Gasps echoed faintly from the projection's background.

Even the Council Elders stirred.

"Drastic measures," murmured one. "Are you certain?"

The Baron nodded miserably. "If I must preserve the name of Belnic, then blood will be the price. Please, Headmaster… let our family restore its honor."

Herald regarded him in silence for several seconds. Then he finally spoke.

"…Your family will not be banned from Academy sponsorship. But your seats on the donor council will be suspended for five years. Your son and nephew's records will be permanently struck from the registry."

The Baron's relief was almost palpable. He bowed again. "Thank you… Principal. We will not forget this mercy."

Herald inclined his head faintly. "See that you don't."

The projection flickered and faded, leaving only the faint hum of mana once again.

---

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then one of the veiled Elders broke the silence.

"You showed mercy."

Herald turned to face them, his expression steady. "Mercy preserves balance. Vengeance feeds chaos."

A faint scoff. "Ever the idealist."

Herald smiled faintly. "And yet you still follow me into these meetings."

That earned a small chuckle from the first Elder — the one who had called him 'old friend'. "You believe the corruption will stop with this?"

"No," Herald admitted. "Corruption never ends. It simply hides, shifts, waits. But the young ones must see that justice can still prevail."

He thought briefly of Michael — that determined spark in the boy's eyes when he stood in this very room, pretending to be calm while curiosity and calculation ran behind every glance.

"He reminds me of someone," one Elder said softly, as if reading Herald's mind.

Herald's eyes softened. "Yes. He does."

A long silence followed. Then, finally, the metallic-voiced Elder asked, "What will you do about the boy?"

Herald looked back toward the window, where the last traces of sunlight glimmered across the Academy towers.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "The Academy owes him its peace. He has the makings of something far greater. If we interfere now… we risk caging what might save us all someday."

The Elders exchanged unreadable glances through the mist.

Then the first Elder spoke again, voice faintly amused. "You speak as though you've glimpsed fate."

Herald's smile deepened, barely visible beneath the golden light.

"Perhaps I have."

---

After the Meeting

The projections faded one by one until only darkness and quiet remained.

Herald stood alone once more, staring at his reflection in the window.

From the courtyard below, the laughter of students drifted faintly through the night wind — unaware that their world had almost fractured beneath them.

He reached out, touching the cold glass.

"Michael Wilson…"

The name echoed in his mind.

You walk the path I once feared to tread. May you never fall as I did.

Behind him, the door creaked open.

A single figure entered the same shadow operative from before, kneeling silently.

"All letters have been delivered, Principal. The noble families have received your message."

Herald nodded slowly. "And the Royal Palace?"

"They received it personally… from the Queen's aide."

A faint glimmer of nostalgia passed through his eyes. "Good. Then it begins."

"Should we continue surveillance on the boy, sir?" the operative asked.

Herald hesitated — just long enough for doubt to flicker, then shook his head.

"No. Let him walk his own road. For now… the Academy will watch, and the world will wait."

"Yes, sir." The shadow vanished once more.

Herald turned back to the window, his voice a whisper swallowed by the wind.

"…The storm has only begun."

---

[Outside – Next Morning]

The newspapers across the capital blared with the same headline:

[ "House Belnic Issues Public Apology to Arcade Hunter Academy — Corruption Exposed!"]

The photo beneath showed Baron Edrin kneeling before the royal press, pale and trembling.

Social channels flooded with commentary — disbelief, outrage, mockery, awe.

For the first time in decades, a noble had bowed publicly to a school principal.

Inside the Academy dorms, I (Michael) scrolled through the feed on my old smartphone, sipping coffee.

A low whistle escaped my lips. "He actually apologized… publicly."

From the corner of the table, Leon leaned over. "That's what happens when the Headmaster gets serious. The Belnic's basically crippled their own influence."

Chris snorted. "Serves them right. Still can't believe you pulled this off, Chief."

I smiled faintly. "I didn't pull anything. I just gave the right push. The rest… the world did itself."

But deep down, I knew who had truly pushed back hardest.

Herald Crimson… you're not just a principal, are you?

I closed the news tab and leaned back in my chair, letting out a soft chuckle.

"The game board just got interesting."

---