The Useless Extra Knows It All....But Does He?

The heavy oak doors groaned open with a low creak as Luca stepped inside alongside Seraphina. The faint smell of old parchment and polished steel lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp fragrance of herbal incense burning faintly in the corner. Sunlight streamed through tall arched windows, catching on the polished floor and the countless books that lined the shelves like silent sentinels.

Near the window stood the Vice-Dean. His silver armor gleamed even in the dim light, pristine and without blemish, like a mirror of discipline itself. His ramrod-straight back and the way his hands rested lightly behind him spoke volumes of his military bearing. His presence filled the room with an invisible weight, and Luca felt it press against his chest.

He opened his mouth to greet, but before he could, the leather chair behind the desk slowly turned. Luca's breath caught. Sitting there was a grumpy old man with a wild, flowing beard that spilled down his chest. His robe was plain, almost casual, a stark contrast to the steel-clad figure at the window. But his eyes—half-lidded, sharp beneath the shadows of his brows—carried the weight of decades.

Luca froze, then quickly bent forward in a deep bow.

"Greetings, Sir Dean."

His thoughts ran wild. Even the recluse dean himself? Just what the hell is going on?

The old man's voice cracked through the room, low and commanding.

"Stand up!"

Luca straightened immediately, suppressing the instinctive chill that raced down his spine. Beside him, Seraphina's expression was unreadable, as poised as ever. The Dean rose slowly, his casual robe rustling faintly, and the Vice-Dean turned from the window to join him. Without another word, the two elder figures moved toward the couches arranged near the low table, their steps deliberate, heavy, and filled with authority.

A curt gesture from the Dean, and Luca and Seraphina followed, taking their places on the couch opposite. The cushions sank slightly under Luca's weight, but the silence in the room was so taut that it felt as though even the smallest movement might shatter it.

For a long heartbeat, no one spoke. The ticking of the antique clock on the far wall was the only sound. Finally, Seraphina exhaled softly, her voice steady but carrying a razor's edge.

"You know the situation under which your exam was conducted?"

Luca hesitated, meeting her gaze for only a moment before lowering his eyes respectfully.

"I have some idea," he admitted, "but I am not sure."

Seraphina's head dipped in acknowledgment. She folded her hands neatly on her lap, her long fingers tightening briefly before she spoke again.

"The cult had prior information about the examination. Their true target was the Saintess. They likely wanted to strike chaos into the heart of the kingdom, to disrupt the calm and sow havoc."

Luca's brows furrowed slightly, but he only gave a small nod. His thoughts churned beneath his composed exterior. So they don't know about the blood of the Saintess… well make sense, even I didn't have information about it.

Seraphina's voice hardened as she continued, "We had our informants among their ranks, and through them, we discovered fragments of their plan. We knew thousands of cultists were lying in wait, hidden in the shadows near the Hellsand dungeon we had prepared for the hell difficulty exam. So, we altered the exam. Instead of sending you all to different dungeons, we sent you to war. We wanted to see how you all performed under the weight of life-and-death… but—"

Her words tapered off, the silence stretching unbearably. The Vice-Dean picked up where she left, his voice deep, every syllable like a hammer striking steel.

"But we did not expect them to send five experts on Archmage and Spatial Expansion level. That miscalculation nearly cost us everything."

He leaned forward slightly, the light from the window catching on his sharp features. His hands clenched briefly before he forced them still again, betraying the tension beneath his calm.

"The moment we received the intelligence, we dispatched Vincent and Elowen—even while they were in the middle of their own examinations. Their orders were to reach you as swiftly as possible, to ensure the safety of the first-years. But…" His jaw tightened. "Before they could reach you—"

Luca's eyes met his, steady and unwavering despite the weight in the room.

"By then," he said simply, "the Saintess, Big Bull, and I had already killed those high cultists."

For a moment, silence reclaimed the room. Then the Dean and Vice-Dean exchanged a look, grave and heavy. Seraphina's lips pressed into a thin line, but the faintest flicker of acknowledgment passed through her eyes.

All three of them gave slow, deliberate nods. The atmosphere thickened further, as if the gravity of what Luca had said still hadn't fully settled into the air.

The Dean's eyes, which until now had remained half-lidded and unreadable, slowly opened. The weight of his gaze was like a mountain pressing down on Luca, as if the old man could peel away every thought hidden behind his composure.

"So," the Dean said at last, his voice deep and steady, "we wanted to ask you—exactly what happened there?"

Luca drew in a breath, forcing his shoulders to remain square. He gave a slow nod. It's better to say everything. At least… almost everything.

He recounted everything in a steady voice—the sudden discovery by the cult, how he had urged the Saintess to flee with Eric while he and Big Bull stayed behind, how they were cornered, and how the Saintess, instead of escaping, returned to save them.

He described how the cultists turned on her, how he used Kunpeng's ability and struck one of the experts down with Moonslayer, drawing brief flashes of surprise across their faces, and how, when the Archmage descended upon them, the Saintess unleashed a blinding surge of divine power to strike him down, only for that radiance to vanish from her as suddenly as it came.

As he looked down with silence before continuing with how he ended with Big Bull's frenzied recovery, healing himself on the blood of cultists and slaughtering the last Archmage until silence finally fell over the battlefield.

When Luca stopped speaking, the office grew quiet. The Dean, Vice-Dean, and Seraphina exchanged glances heavy with unspoken meaning. After a pause, the Vice-Dean asked in a low voice, "This is it?"

"This is it," Luca answered firmly, though his fists had tightened against his knees. Then, unable to restrain himself, he lifted his gaze and asked, voice tinged with urgency, "Can… can I know what happened to the Saintess?"

At Luca's question, Seraphina's expression darkened. She drew in a slow, steady breath, as though bracing herself, before answering. "It's… a lot more complicated."

Luca's eyes sharpened, his whole body leaning forward as he searched her face for clarity, desperate for something solid. But Seraphina only continued, her tone quiet yet heavy. "She… is currently in the custody of the Holy Kingdom."

The words struck him like a thunderclap. Luca lurched to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. Custody? His mind reeled, the word echoing like a curse. "W–what?" His voice cracked, rising without restraint. "What do you mean in custody? And even why? She needs treatment now, not to be locked away!"

The air in the office grew taut, the Vice-Dean's gaze narrowing, the Dean's brows furrowing with silent warning. Seraphina, however, kept her composure. She raised her hand slightly, her voice firm but calm. "Luca. Calm down a bit, and sit down."

It was only then that Luca realized how loudly his voice had rung, how much emotion had slipped into it. His pulse hammered in his ears. Jaw tight, he dipped his head in apology and lowered himself back onto the couch. He forced in a long breath, then another, steadying his voice even as his chest clenched.

"...Can you please," he said quietly, the plea raw in his tone, "tell me everything?"