The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227: Chapter 227 : A Promise(2)

[ A few hours ago ]

The Zenith Academy was alive with its usual chaos of students hurrying across courtyards, lecture halls buzzing, and training grounds echoing with clashes of weapons and mana surges.

But beyond academics, what defined Zenith’s prestige were its countless clubs—each dedicated to honing skills in specialized arts.

Among the first-year circles, two clubs towered above the rest. The Archery Club, famed for its elven precision and elegance, where arrows never missed their mark.

And the Blood Magic Arts Club, steeped in the ancient techniques of the vampires, feared and revered alike.

These clubs were Zenith’s pride—their cadets representing the Academy in countless inter-academy competitions. Neither had ever lost, their names etched into the institution’s legacy as living legends.

For outsiders, joining them was nearly impossible. Membership required more than talent—it demanded exceptional demonstrations before the senior leaders, usually third-year cadets who judged recruits mercilessly. Humans or other races were almost never seen in their ranks.

Yet there were two exceptions. Elaria Moonshade Lareth’Thalas, the elven princess, all but ruled the Archery Club.

And Lilith Noctis Bloodrose, heir to the vampire throne, dominated the Blood Magic Arts Club.

Even the third-year presidents bowed before them, knowing one word from their lips could change the direction of their dominions.

Inside the Blood Magic Arts Club’s sprawling hall, dozens of vampire cadets practiced, their crimson spells swirling as droplets of conjured blood danced midair. Circles of magic pulsed, scarlet runes glowing, as they sought perfection.

But in the reserved office at the back, the true throne where authority lay.

Lilith Noctis Bloodrose sat elegantly on the president’s chair, crossing her long legs like the seat had been crafted for her alone. Her beauty was otherworldly—her pale skin glowing faintly, scarlet eyes carrying both seduction and authority.

She sipped tea lazily, as though she owned not just the room but the entire academy.

The actual president of the club, Simon, a third-year vampire cadet, stood stiff before her. His hands fidgeted at his sides, sweat beading his brow. He dared not meet her gaze directly.

Lilith swirled the teacup between her fingers before speaking in her velvet voice. "Simon, I’ve told you many times—you don’t have to be so nervous around me. Why do you tremble so much?"

Simon bowed his head, his voice shaky. "P-Princess, you are our next ruler. Royalty itself. How could I ever act casual in your presence?"

Before Lilith could respond, his eyes flicked nervously toward the quiet figure at her side.

"Besides," Simon added, his tone bitter, "if I ever dared to undermine your authority, she will attack me before I spoke a word."

Isadora, Lilith’s ever-loyal maid, smiled sweetly at him, her eyes glinting with sharpness. "At least you know your place, senior."

Simon sighed heavily, shoulders slumping, as Lilith chuckled.

Finally, he mustered the courage to ask, "But... your highness, if I may... why are you here today? You rarely grace the club with your presence. Not to be rude, but... is there a special reason?"

Lilith leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms under her chest. A mischievous smile tugged her lips. "Oh, nothing much. I just have a feeling... that something good will happen today."

Her cryptic tone only deepened his confusion. Simon exchanged a puzzled glance with Isadora, who herself tilted her head in curiosity.

Before he could ask further, the door slammed open. A vampire cadet burst in, panting heavily. "President! There’s... there’s a masked guy at the club. He says he wants to join the club."

Simon raised a brow, irritation flashing. "A masked guy? Is he even a vampire?"

The cadet shook his head quickly. "No, sir. He’s human."

Simon’s expression twisted into annoyance. He waved his hand dismissively. "Then drive him away. Humans can’t wield blood demon arts. Not properly, anyway."

The cadet swallowed nervously, then spoke in a hesitant voice. "We... we already tried. Just like you said. But..."

Simon’s tone sharpened. "But what?"

The cadet took a deep breath as though forcing the words out. "You should see it for yourself."

A vein bulged on Simon’s temple, his frustration growing. "What in the—"

But before his anger could boil over, Lilith’s smooth yet commanding voice cut through the tension. "Do exactly as he says."

Simon froze. The authority in her tone was absolute. He pressed his lips together, bowed stiffly, and finally muttered, "As you wish, princess." Without another word, he stormed past the cadet and out of the room.

Now, the office was quiet once more, save for the faint clinking of Lilith setting her teacup down.

Isadora turned to her mistress, curiosity burning in her eyes. "My lady... do you know who this person is? Why would you give him permission to stay?"

Lilith’s lips curled into a rare, bright smile—one Isadora hadn’t seen in months. Her scarlet eyes gleamed with excitement. "Of course I know him. And you do too, Isa."

Leaning forward, her voice dropped to a silken whisper, as though savoring the name. "His name is Lucifer Morningstar. And if I’m not mistaken... aren’t you a fan of his as well?"

---------

Meanwhile, outside the Blood Magic Arts Club president’s room—

Simon came running, his shoes echoing against the marble floor, but the moment he stepped into the main hall his breath caught in his throat.

It looked like carnage.

Dozens of vampire cadets were sprawled across the ground, groaning as blood trickled from their mouths, their eyes, even their ears. Their pale bodies twitched with the effort of their vampiric regeneration kicking in, trying desperately to heal the internal damage. The floor was stained crimson, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood.

And at the very center of this battlefield stood a lone masked figure.

A tall man wearing a skeleton mask dusted off his sleeves with casual irritation, as if the massacre around him was nothing more than a nuisance. "See ’useless’? This is why I hate playing with blood. Now my clothes are all dirty."

Simon froze, his own blood running cold as recognition hit him like a hammer. The mask, the presence, the reputation—this wasn’t just any intruder. This was the most famous figure of the continent right now. The only one to have ever cleared a Paraflux Dungeon.

He stammered out the name. "L-Lucifer Morningstar..."

The masked figure finally turned, his emethyst gaze settling on Simon. He chuckled, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Finally! Someone who recognizes greatness. I’ve been telling your friends here all along—I am Lucifer Morningstar. But no, they kept calling me a fake. Even tried to attack me."

He gestured lazily at the bloodied cadets. "So I returned the favor a little. You don’t mind, do you?"

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