Transmigrating as an Extra, But the Heroine Has Regressed?!

Myra stepped into the courtyard with a stack of fresh reports clutched in her hands.

The papers rustled in the light breeze as she scanned the gate at the far end of the stone path.

Her sharp beast-like senses picked up the faint sound of footsteps—a group approaching from outside.

Myra narrowed her eyes.

"Who enters the academy at this hour?"

A group of strangers was striding confidently through the entrance gate.

They wore dark blue uniforms with silver trim, a style unfamiliar to most Arcadia students.

At the front of the group walked a middle-aged man wearing a long coat, flanked by two younger men who carried themselves like seasoned fighters and other teachers.

Myra's instincts flared. The aura of these strangers carried neither the calm grace of Arcadia professors nor the respectful caution of visiting scholars.

She tossed the papers onto a nearby bench and strode forward.

Her golden eyes locked on the group as the gatekeeper hesitated, unsure whether to stop them.

"State your business here," Myra said.

One of the younger men—a broad-shouldered mage with a sharp nose and a smirk—stepped forward.

"We're here for a meeting with your academy staff. Step aside."

Myra raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Having no manners and demanding a meeting? What kind of attitude is that?" She folded her arms.

"This is Arcadia Academy, not a market square. Speak with respect—or turn around."

The mage scoffed. "Bold words for a little girl playing guard dog."

Before Myra could respond, the swordsman beside him—a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard—rested his hand on the hilt of his blade and sneered.

"You should step away. We're not here to exchange pleasantries with students."

"Students?" Myra eyes flared.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not a student."

The older man in the center—their principal, Elric Dunholde—lifted a hand.

"Enough," he said calmly. "We are here on official business. There's no need—"

But their teacher mage interrupted, his voice rising with irritation.

"She's blocking the way, Principal. Let me handle her."

Myra tilted her head.

"Handle me? Try it."

The mage raised his staff, and a pulse of blue mana crackled to life.

Without warning, he thrust his palm forward, releasing a burst of wind magic meant to shove Myra aside.

The air exploded outward—but Myra didn't move.

Her foot slid back a single inch, her hair whipping in the sudden gust.

Then she sprang forward like a thunderbolt. Her bare fist struck the mage's chest before he could blink.

BOOM!

The sound of the impact echoed through the courtyard. The mage was launched backward, skidding across the stone path and crashing against the gate with a grunt of pain.

"What—?!" the swordsman exclaimed, barely drawing his blade in time as Myra closed the distance.

"Too slow," Myra said.

She pivoted on her heel and delivered a sharp kick.

Her leg moved like a whip, the strike so fast.

The swordsman crossed his blade to block, but the force of her kick sent a shiver through the metal.

Sparks flew as the weapon trembled, nearly torn from his grasp.

"Impossible!" the swordsman gasped, struggling to maintain his footing.

The mage staggered to his feet, fury burning in his eyes. "You little—!"

He chanted quickly, summoning a circle of glowing runes. Ice shards materialized around him, darting toward Myra like a storm of knives.

Myra didn't flinch.

Her body blurred with speed as she weaved through the storm, fists striking the shards mid-air.

Each punch shattered ice with deafening cracks. Her bare knuckles met the frozen blades and reduced them to glittering snowflakes before they could touch her skin.

"You call this magic?" she said.

Before the mage could finish his next spell, Myra leapt forward again.

Her fist met his stomach with the precision of a hammer striking an anvil.

CRACK!

The mage doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. He collapsed to the ground, coughing violently.

The swordsman tried to take advantage of the distraction. With a shout, he unleashed a lightning-fast slash aimed at Myra's side.

The blade whistled through the air—a strike meant to incapacitate.

But Myra twisted her torso at the last instant. The sword grazed nothing but air.

She grabbed the swordsman's wrist mid-swing.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he felt his strength melt against her overwhelming power.

"Too predictable," Myra said softly.

With a sharp yank, she pulled him off balance, driving her knee into his chest.

The impact sent him flying backward, crashing into a nearby stone pillar. Dust exploded from the impact.

Myra stood in the center of the courtyard.

Not a single scratch marked her skin. She brushed a lock of hair from her face and looked at the group with a cool.

The students who had gathered at a distance were frozen in awe. Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Did you see that? She didn't even use a weapon!"

"She's…she's a monster."

"No…she's a beast."

"Our new teacher…. No wonder she is beautiful and you but also.."...

SLAP..

One of the first years slapped his friend for talking like that.

"Will you stop talking like that?".

The Bighall Academy principal, Elric Dunholde, finally stepped forward.

He studied Myra carefully—the way she stood, the raw force she had displayed without a single spell.

(Arcadia Academy truly lives up to its reputation), he thought.

(Even their youngest fighters surpass expectations. This girl…she's far beyond the level of any second-year teacher from my academy I've seen. Perhaps even stronger than some professors.)

He gave a small nod.

"Impressive. It seems Arcadias are still as formidable as the olden days."

Myra wiped the dust from her knuckles and tilted her head slightly.

"We are from Bighall academy and we came here for a meeting with your academy. I am sorry for my staff", Elric said.

"Next time, teach your staff some manners before sending them into another academy."

The mage, still clutching his stomach, scowled but remained silent. The swordsman struggled to stand, his pride clearly wounded but his spirit crushed.

Elric let out a quiet sigh.

"My apologies for their behavior. They…overstepped their bounds."

"They did more than that," Myra replied, her golden eyes narrowing. "But an apology is accepted—for now."

The helper of the academy finally stepped in. "Principal Dunholde…your meeting is inside the main hall."

Elric inclined his head respectfully.

"Then let us proceed." He cast one last glance at Myra, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"To think such strength exists in someone so young…Arcadia truly remains ahead of all other academies."

As the Bighall group moved toward the main hall, Myra retrieved the papers she had dropped earlier.

The crowd slowly began to disperse, still buzzing with excitement and disbelief.