The Extra Who Shouldn't Exist novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75: Chapter 75 : Never piss off seraphina starlight

The cold marble floor wasn’t as comforting as it looked. I groaned as I pushed myself up from it, brushing off dust and shame alike. My eyes slowly moved up—and immediately locked onto Miss Vega.

Uh-oh.

Arms crossed beneath her chest.

Expression... not pleasant at all.

I straightened so fast I nearly threw my back out and bowed at a perfect ninety degrees.

"I’m sorry, Miss! It was a mistake!"

She didn’t respond.

Her sharp, unreadable gaze just stared straight through me like she was calculating whether to punish me, incinerate me, or both.

It didn’t help with the outfit she was wearing.

The crimson uniform jacket clung to her like a second skin—high-collared but zipped just low enough to reveal a teasing hint of cleavage, framed perfectly by the black corset underneath, which hugged her waist and lifted her already generous bust in a way that screamed authority and temptation all at once.

Her black pants were sleek and polished, tucked into her long boots—and even those looked like they could step on your ego and leave it permanently bruised.

Even after all this time, most of the guys in the class hadn’t built up immunity. The moment she walked by, necks would crane. Eyes would trail. Brains would short-circuit.

They just kept staring.

Even now, the dumbfounded looks on the faces of the guys behind me made it obvious. No matter how many times they saw her, they still weren’t ready.

I didn’t blame them.

After a few long seconds, she finally moved.

Without saying a word, Miss Vega turned on her heel and walked toward Classroom 1-A.

I let out a breath and immediately followed behind her. Not too close to look suspicious. But definitely close enough that none of the angry mob behind me could catch up and beat me into a pancake.

I could practically feel the rage radiating from Alden, Ethan, Ava, Charlotte, and Seraphina. They were like predators that had just been denied a meal.

Then Miss Vega’s voice rang out, sharp and calm.

"Are you all not interested in class?"

Everyone froze mid-step.

Like deer caught in magical headlights.

A couple of students nearly tripped over each other as they scrambled to respond.

"N-No, ma’am!"

"We’re very much interested, Miss Vega!"

"Absolutely devoted!"

In seconds, the chase turned into an organized march. Everyone fell in line and started moving toward the classroom like model students.

I didn’t even try to hide the smirk on my face.

Classroom 1-A was sleek and futuristic. Holographic screens hovered mid-air, the lighting adjusted automatically based on seating, and the desks were so clean you could perform surgery on them.

We all took our seats. Miss Vega tapped her EtherPad, and the lesson began.

I sat at the window seat in the back—don’t ask me why. You guys already know.

The lecture began.

An hour passed, but I barely noticed. Her voice was smooth and commanding, explaining the intricacies of internal energy control, mana nodes, and flow circuits. Somehow, she managed to make advanced concepts sound both terrifying and elegant.

Even the slackers were sitting straight by the end.

Then, just as we thought class was over, Miss Vega placed her tablet down and looked at us with that calm, unreadable expression.

"There’s one more thing."

A ripple of tension spread across the room.

She folded her arms—again emphasizing just how dangerous fabric could be in the right hands—and continued.

"After your Basic Swordsmanship and combat arts class today, you will undergo your Potential Evaluation."

I blinked.

Wait—what?

She let the shock linger for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Yes. Even those of you focused on magic will attend Swordsmanship and combat arts. It is not optional."

A few mages looked uneasy. One guy in his academy robes nearly cursed.

Miss Vega’s gaze swept over the class like a hawk surveying prey.

"A mage is not simply a spellcaster. Combat is fluid. You may not always have time for incantations or rune-casting. You may be ambushed. You may have to fight in close combat. What will you do then?"

Her voice sharpened slightly.

"Stamina training and weapon familiarity can mean the difference between life and death. A real mage doesn’t just rely on spells—they adapt." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Dead silence.

Even the robe guy straightened up.

She nodded once.

"After Swordsmanship, you will be taken to undergo your Potential Evaluation. Yes—you heard that correctly."

With a flick of her fingers, a chart appeared on the holo-board.

"In our society, as you guys already know—nobles especially—strength is measured through Ranks, which define an individual’s power, mastery, and influence. Each Rank is divided into three stages."

She gestured, and each tier expanded.

"Low Stage – Just stepping into the rank. Energy is unstable."

"Mid Stage – More refined. You gain better control and deeper understanding."

"Peak Stage – You are at the edge of the rank. Ready to break through."

Her tone lowered, taking on a slow, almost reverent rhythm.

"Novice – The beginning. Ordinary people, just starting their journey. Weak bodies, almost no control."

"Intermediate – The foundation stage. You start refining your body, learning energy manipulation. Combat skills begin to take form."

"Advanced – Trained warriors. Improved energy flow, sharper reflexes, physical strength. Most soldiers fall here."

"Expert – Energy flows naturally. You can overpower several Advanced opponents. Both mages and fighters shine at this level."

"Master – Peak of mortal combat. You can fight small armies, release devastating techniques, and control your energy with precision. At this point, you begin touching the deeper mysteries of the world."

"Grandmaster – Legends in the making. Capable of destroying small cities. Their bodies are weapons, their energy near perfect."

"Transcendent – Beyond human limits. They regenerate from fatal wounds, move faster than the eye, and twist the laws of the world with sheer force of will."

"Monarch – The apex. Their presence alone can bend space. They rule empires, defeat entire armies, and some say... even command fate."

Only a handful of people in this world have the potential of Transcendence.

And one in ten million—Monarch.

The silence in the room was absolute.

She let the weight of her words linger before continuing.

"Having potential up to the Master tier is already impressive. Especially considering all of you earned your spots from among one million applicants."

A rare smile touched her lips.

"I have no doubt you are exceptional."

The collective heartbeat of the boys in class skipped—at least twice.

Even mine flinched a little.

I sat back, letting the information sink in.

Potential evaluation, huh...?

’I wonder what mine would be. With a Physique and this mysterious bloodline... it should be something wild, right?’

Around me, a wave of excited murmurs erupted. Students whispered predictions, boasted in hushed tones, and tried to act like they weren’t absolutely freaking out.

One guy declared he’d definitely be Transcendent tier because his grandma once saw him glow in the dark.

Miss Vega raised a brow.

"Calm down."

Instant quiet.

"You’ll get your answers soon enough. First, attend your Basic Swordsmanship class. Dismissed."

Chairs scraped all around me as everyone stood in a daze. Some kids looked nervous, others were practically bouncing with excitement. One guy—no joke—was literally vibrating. What kind of caffeine injection did he have?

I stood up with everyone else, trying to casually blend in with the crowd heading for the door. Operation Ghost Exit was a go. Just a few more steps and I’d be free—

Then I froze.

Five figures stood in front of the doorway like a boss battle formation. Shoulder to shoulder. Expressions just a bit too friendly. The kind of smiles that screamed: "We’ve been waiting for you, punk."

Oh no.

Their eyes locked onto me like predator drones. I scanned the room in panic, praying for a distraction. A fire alarm. An earthquake. Divine intervention. Anything.

My gaze landed on Draven, slouched just a few seats away, looking bored as usual. Our eyes met.

Help me, I pleaded silently, pouring every ounce of desperation into my soul-stare.

His response?

That damn traitor looked away, whistled like nothing happened, and noped out of the classroom like it was on fire.

"Coward," I muttered.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify