The Extra's Rise

After classes ended, I desperately needed caffeine.

Luckily, Mythos Academy's first-year building had two cafes, because nothing said "future protectors of humanity" quite like a bunch of overworked teenagers inhaling coffee like it was mana in liquid form.

"Come on, I'm buying," Rose said, tugging my sleeve.

"Technically, none of us are buying," I pointed out. "The academy feeds us like we're spoiled aristocrats."

"And yet," she said, grinning as she dragged me toward the café, "you're still accepting the offer."

I sighed but didn't resist. A free coffee was a free coffee.

The café was a sleek, modern space, all polished wood, soft lighting, and the smell of fresh coffee strong enough to reanimate the dead. Students lounged at booths, some chatting, some furiously typing on holographic tablets like their lives depended on it.

Rose led the way to the counter, flashing her I.D. against the scanner. "One iced vanilla latte," she ordered.

I blinked at her. "Vanilla?"

She crossed her arms. "What?"

"Just… not what I expected."

"And what did you expect?"

"I dunno. Something more… dramatic. You strike me as a 'black coffee, no sugar, just vibes' kind of person."

She rolled her eyes. "And let me guess. You're an 'I don't care, just make it strong' guy."

"I—" I stopped. "…Alright, fair point."

I tapped my own I.D. and ordered a simple black coffee.

We found a quiet table near the window, where the artificial sky of Mythos Academy stretched infinitely above us, a perfect illusion of open air despite being inside a heavily reinforced, mana-infused building.

Rose stirred her drink idly, resting her chin on one hand. "So, how's Class A treating you?"

I took a sip of my coffee. "Like I'm a peasant who accidentally wandered into a room full of royalty."

She laughed. "You kinda are, though."

"Gee, thanks."

"But seriously," she said, swirling the ice in her cup. "It's gotta be insane, being in the most broken first-year class in history."

"Insane is putting it lightly." I exhaled, leaning back. "Lucifer and Ren duking it out like they weren't already leagues ahead of everyone. Seraphina tossing me around like I was made of paper. Oh, and I somehow managed to pull off Delay Piston before Ian did."

Rose blinked. "Wait, you got it before Ian?"

"Yeah, shocked me too."

She smirked. "You might actually be dangerous, Arthur."

I snorted. "I'll believe that when I stop feeling like I'm two seconds from getting my head caved in every time I spar with them."

"Hey, progress is progress," she said, taking a slow sip of her latte.

I watched her, the easy way she spoke, the way her auburn eyes caught the light just right, and realized…

This was nice.

Just sitting and talking. Not fighting for my life. Not worrying about mana ranks and combat techniques. Just coffee and conversation.

And for the first time since waking up in this world—

I felt something close to normal.

Just two people, drinking coffee, talking about nothing and everything, without a single deathmatch in sight.

It was almost comforting.

But the moment I stepped back into my dorm, reality crashed down like a lead weight.

I finished my homework in record time—not because I particularly enjoyed doing it, but because my mind was already elsewhere.

That fight.

Lucifer's overwhelming strength.

How he had toyed with Ren before finally deciding to end it in one brutal display of dominance.

It was one thing to read about it in a novel.

It was another thing entirely to see it happen in front of me.

The gap between them and me was still too wide.

I knew that.

I couldn't replicate those movements, that precision, that sheer mastery of aura.

Not even close.

But I could do something.

The training room was empty when I arrived.

I swiped my I.D. and stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind me with a quiet hiss.

Time to work.

I started simple.

Footwork.

Because before speed, before power, before any technique could land, you needed to be in the right place at the right time.

I focused on stability, on keeping my weight balanced, on reducing wasted movement.

Every step needed to be deliberate. Precise.

'Faster. Again. No hesitation.'

I pushed harder, each movement a little sharper than the last, until I could feel my legs burning from exertion.

Good.

Then, Delay Piston.

I lined up against a dummy and began practicing the technique over and over and over.

Punch.

At first, nothing.

Then—boom.

I kept going, refining the timing, feeling the small improvements each time I landed a hit.

But it wasn't enough.

Lucifer's use of Delay Piston was practically flawless. His control was absolute.

Mine was just functional.

And that wasn't going to cut it.

So I pushed further.

More mana. More stress on my body.

I absorbed more ambient mana than was comfortable, forcing it into my circuits, making them expand, adapt, evolve.

The pain came quickly.

A deep, searing ache as my body struggled to keep up.

But I kept going.

Even as my knuckles split.

Even as my muscles screamed.

Even as the clock on the wall ticked away the hours.

A voice crackled through the intercom.

"The training grounds are closing. All students must vacate the premises."

I exhaled, drenched in sweat, my entire body feeling like a single, massive bruise.

Another five hours gone.

And yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the pain—

I knew I was getting closer.

Not close enough. Not yet.

But closer.

The dorms were quiet by the time I got back, the soft hum of artificial lighting the only thing filling the halls.

As I stepped into the lounge, I spotted Rachel, Ian, and Lucifer sitting together. Ian was leaning back comfortably, Lucifer as composed as ever, and Rachel—she noticed me first.

"You trained this late again?" Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded, stretching out my sore shoulders. "Yeah, I got inspired."

Rachel looked at me for a moment, her sapphire eyes studying me before she offered a small smile.

"Make sure to get proper rest though, Arthur."

I returned the smile. "I will. Thanks, Rach."

Then, I turned to Lucifer.

"Hey, Lucifer?"

He looked up. "What is it?"

"Can I ask for a favor?"

Lucifer blinked. "Sure. Go ahead."

I took a breath.

"I want to check my Delay Piston against yours," I said.

Lucifer's brows furrowed slightly. "Right now?"

"Please," I insisted. "And—keep the level of aura the same as mine."

A flicker of interest crossed his face, just for a second.

Then he sighed, scratching the back of his head.

"I suppose that's fine," he said, pushing himself up. "Rachel, if you will."

"Of course," Rachel said smoothly, raising her hand.

Her light mana gathered instantly, moving with the practiced precision of someone who had mastered the circle method down to an art.

A four-circle spell manifested, light flowing around her fingertips in perfect synchrony.

"Light Stage."

The mana crystallized into a barrier, forming a glowing dome around us, illuminating the lounge with a soft, golden hue.

Lucifer stretched his wrists, rolling his shoulders once.

"Alright," he said, turning to face me.

"Let's see how far you've come."