The Extra is a Genius!?-Chapter 33 – Aftermath (Part 1)

The world was silent now.

Only the faint crackle of dying flames and the whisper of the night wind moved across the scorched hillside.

Noel stood there, Revenant Fang dangling loosely from his fingertips, the sword's weight dragging against the torn grass.

The city of Valor stretched out in the distance.

From here, under the silver sheen of the stars, it almost looked peaceful.

He stared at it for a long moment, chest rising and falling slowly, exhaustion weighing him down heavier than any wound.

Blood crusted along the side of his face.

His muscles trembled with every breath.

Still—he smirked faintly.

His voice cracked out in the empty air:

"Well... job is done, for now."

A dry, almost bitter chuckle escaped him.

No one heard it but the stars.

No one answered but the cold breeze brushing over his bloodstained clothes.

The sword slipped from his hand, thudding into the grass with a muted thump.

Noel took a shaky step forward—

And collapsed.

Falling backward into the cool, soft grass.

He hit the ground hard, but he didn't feel it.

Didn't care.

Above him, the sky stretched wide and endless, the stars shimmering like tiny fires scattered across a deep velvet canvas.

The city lights flickered faintly at the horizon, blurred by distance and smoke, but still standing.

Still alive.

He let his eyes drift closed.

No thoughts.

No fears.

No plans.

Just the soft hum of victory and the crushing weight of survival.

And then—

Darkness.

Noel's consciousness floated up slowly, like rising through thick, suffocating water.

His body ached before he even opened his eyes—deep, grinding pain that seemed to weigh down every muscle and bone.

The first thing he noticed was the light.

Soft.

Pale.

Artificial.

The scent came next: a clean, antiseptic sharpness mixed with faint herbs and mana residue.

Finally, as he peeled his heavy eyelids open, the full view settled into place.

Whitewashed stone ceiling.

Hanging lamps fueled by mana crystals.

Rows of tidy cots separated by thin white curtains.

The faint, almost constant creak of wood and the low hum of minor healing spells saturating the air.

'Great.'

'The academy infirmary. Again.'

The familiarity made his stomach twist slightly.

It was almost pathetic how easily he recognized it now.

Before he could push himself up fully, a sharp voice cut across the room.

"You're awake," said the nurse.

The same stern-faced woman who had patched him up twice before.

She stood beside his bed, arms crossed, glaring down at him like he was a particularly troublesome assignment.

Noel shifted slightly under the thin blanket, groaning as his muscles protested.

"How long?" he croaked, voice dry and hoarse.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Five days," she said simply.

Noel blinked once.

Paused.

Then exploded:

"FIVE DAYS?!"

The effort made his ribs ache again, and he slumped back against the pillow, gritting his teeth.

'Five fucking days unconscious.'

'Shit.'

Inwardly, he did the math.

'Makes sense, though.'

'Two straight weeks of overtraining, mana burnout, blood loss, a brutal duel, carrying a goddamn bomb, fighting Caldus, dragging my own ass across half the city...'

'Yeah. Guess my body had to check out eventually.'

Still, hearing it aloud stung his pride more than the injuries.

The nurse clicked her tongue, setting a tray of bland-looking food on the bedside table.

"Eat and get some rest. The Director wants a word with you when you're strong enough. And no, before you ask, you're not allowed to leave until I say so."

Noel groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face.

'Perfect. Just fucking perfect.'

Noel leaned back against the stiff infirmary pillow, grimacing as his body protested every small movement.

He poked half-heartedly at the food the nurse had left—bland, soft, tasteless.

Perfect for the nearly-dead.

He pushed the tray aside and closed his eyes for a second, trying to piece his thoughts together.

The mission.

The bombs.

Caldus.

The blood.

The fire.

The big Boom.

Everything blurred at the edges now, like a bad dream he barely survived.

Just as he let his mind drift, a familiar mechanical chime echoed faintly in his head.

The System's voice.

Sharp.

Cold.

Detached.

[Story Progress Calculation...]

Noel frowned, sitting up slightly despite the deep ache in his body.

Another chime.

[Information Denied]

[Story is Changing]

[Story Progress: ???]

Noel froze.

Completely still. freewёbnoνel.com

'...Fuck me.'

His heartbeat thudded dully in his ears.

If the system couldn't even calculate the story anymore—

That meant everything was off the rails.

The future he thought he knew?

Gone.

Nothing but black holes and question marks now.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing calm over the rising panic.

'Figures.'

'The second I start trying to fix this world, it turns around and shits all over the original script.'

He sank back against the pillow, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

'Perfect. Just fucking perfect.'

Because now?

He was flying blind.

And no one was coming to save him.

Noel stared at the ceiling for a long moment, letting the buzzing silence settle over him.

His hands itched to do something—anything—but his body still screamed with exhaustion.

'Alright, let's see what kind of mess I'm working with.'

He exhaled slowly, then muttered under his breath:

"Status."

The air in front of him shimmered faintly, and then—

A translucent blue window appeared, crisp and neat, floating just above his lap:

[Name]: Noel Thorne

[Age]: 16

[Mana Core Rank]: Novice (37%)

[Items]:

- Revenant Fang (Sword)

- Veilweaver's Charm (Artifact)

Noel blinked once.

Then again.

'Novice. Thirty-seven percent.'

'Better than I expected after all the shit I went through.'

At least he wasn't stuck at the bottom anymore.

The "Items" section made him snort under his breath.

'A cursed sword that feeds off my near-death experiences and a mask that lets me cosplay as other people.'

'Real healthy loadout for a high school student.'

Still...

Seeing it laid out like this made it feel more real.

More tangible.

He wasn't just some extra anymore.

He wasn't background noise.

He was climbing.

Slowly.

Painfully.

But climbing all the same.

And if the story really had gone off the rails—

He'd need every advantage he could get.

Noel closed the window with a blink and dragged a hand through his tangled hair.

'No rest for the damned, I guess.'

He didn't have long to dwell on it, though.

Because heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.

Approaching.

The door creaked open.

And Director Nicolas Von Aldros stepped into the infirmary.

The door creaked open.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps crossed the infirmary floor.

Noel tensed automatically, but when he turned his head, it was only Director Nicolas Von Aldros approaching.

Still as imposing as ever, even in exhaustion.

The Director stopped beside his bed and studied him silently for a long moment, the weight of his gaze almost physical.

Finally, in a calm, measured voice, Aldros asked:

"You were the one who sent the letter, weren't you?"

Noel sighed.

No point lying.

"Yeah," he said. "That was me."

Aldros nodded once, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Noel gave a dry chuckle, grimacing as his ribs protested.

"Didn't do it to be thanked," he muttered. "Just... didn't want the whole place going to hell."

"You succeeded," Aldros said. He pulled a chair closer and sat down. "Now tell me everything."

Noel shifted, finding a slightly less painful way to sit upright.

"You want the short version or the full ugly mess?" he asked.

"The full," Aldros replied without hesitation.

Noel leaned his head back against the stiff pillow, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling for a second.

"Alright," he started.

"It began when I noticed a few students sneaking out at night. Looked suspicious. Weird energy around them."

"You followed them," Aldros guessed.

Noel nodded slightly.

"Yeah. Down through the old maintenance tunnels under the enchantment labs. They thought nobody remembered them, I guess."

Aldros didn't interrupt, only watching him closely.

"I kept tracking them," Noel continued. "Watched. Listened. Saw them smuggling crates and talking about preparations."

"And you discovered the explosives?"

"Not at first," Noel said. "But yeah, eventually. I found the circles drawn into the walls. Bomb-grade mana inscriptions. Took me a bit to figure out what they were planning."

Aldros folded his hands together, his face completely neutral.

"You infiltrated them," he said.

"Had to," Noel said bluntly. "Used an artifact—Veilweaver's Charm. Took the face of one of theirs. Got into a few meetings. Learned enough to know they had bigger plans than just blowing up a few walls."

"Why didn't you come to the staff immediately?" Aldros asked, voice calm but edged.

Noel met his gaze, then looked away for a second.

"I didn't know who I could trust," he said simply. "I wasn't sure how deep it went—or how you'd react if I accused students and a professor without proof."

Aldros raised an eyebrow slightly.

"You're saying you held back to avoid panic?"

"And to avoid ending up disappeared in a ditch," Noel muttered. "You think I didn't consider the possibility someone on the inside might be involved? Turned out I was right."

A short silence followed.

Then Aldros gave a faint nod.

"Fair," he said. "Risky. But fair."

"You can call it reckless," Noel added. "But it worked."

Aldros leaned back in his chair, folding his hands.

"Past is past. You made dangerous choices. But you also saved lives."

Noel exhaled slowly, some of the tension draining from his shoulders.

"Speaking of," he asked quietly, "how bad was it?"

Aldros's expression shifted slightly. For a moment, he looked older.

Then he replied:

"Thanks to everyone's efforts—and especially yours—there were no mortal casualties."

Noel blinked.

Stared at the ceiling.

Then he let out a quiet breath of relief.

"...Good."