The main square of the Royal Magic Academy was unlike its usual self today. The spectator stands were packed with nobles eager to witness the "punishment" of the trash-talking scholarship student. In the center of the arena, I stood with my hands in my pockets, staring boredly at my opponent.
Prince Julian von Solstice stood in the royal box, flanked by a visibly anxious Clarisse and Elara, who sat with the elegance of an ice queen.
"My opponent isn't the prince?" I asked, eyeing the man in front of me.
"You are not worthy of touching the hem of Prince Julian's cloak," replied my opponent, Viscount Marcus, captain of the second-year academy knight team. He was clad in full silver armor and held a greatsword coursing with lightning mana. "I will teach you how to behave before your superiors, commoner."
I let out a wide yawn, intentionally baiting his temper. "That armor... don't you find it heavy? On a real battlefield, you'd just be a sardine can waiting to be opened."
"Shut up!" Marcus stomped his foot, and blue electrical sparks exploded around him.
In the stands, I could see Elara narrowing her eyes. She was waiting for me. She wanted to see if this "pebble" truly had fangs, or if it was just a dog barking loud.
"The match... BEGIN!"
BOOM!
Marcus charged. For an ordinary human, he was incredibly fast. His greatsword was raised, enveloped in crackling lightning. "Knight Magic: Thunder Strike!"
He swung vertically. The attack was powerful enough to split a massive boulder. The audience screamed, thinking I would be cleaved in two. Clarisse even closed her eyes.
But to me? His movements were like a drunken snail.
I didn't draw my wooden sword. I simply shifted half a step to the left. The tip of Marcus's blade passed just a millimeter from my ear. The wind from the strike blew a few strands of my hair, but I didn't flinch.
"Missed," I muttered flatly.
"Damn you!" Marcus spun, performing a chain of horizontal slashes. Slash! Slash! Slash!
Every swing triggered an electrical explosion in the air. I continued to dodge with minimalist movements. Only shifting clockwise, keeping a constant one-inch distance from death. In the eyes of the spectators, I looked like I was dancing amidst the lightning bolts, but for those who were experts, they would realize one terrifying thing: I had never taken my hands out of my pockets.
"Why are you only running, coward?!" Marcus shouted, his breath beginning to hitch. The large-scale use of lightning magic was starting to drain his mana.
"I'm not running. I'm calculating," I said, staring at the mana circuits in his armor that were beginning to overheat. "You've wasted 15% of your mana just for an annoying lightning sound effect. Were you never taught about efficiency?"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"
Marcus unleashed his Ultimate Move. He leapt into the air, all his mana concentrated at the tip of his sword. "Holy Sword Art: Heavenly Thunder Judgement!"
The entire arena was covered in a blinding blue light. A giant pillar of lightning descended, striking my position.
BOOOOOOOOMMM!
Dust billowed high. The arena ground was cracked and scorched black. The crowd cheered, certain that the arrogant scholarship student had been burnt to ash. Prince Julian smiled with satisfaction, while Elara leaned forward, her eyes searching for something behind the dust.
"Is that all?"
The voice echoed from behind the cloud of dust. As a gust of wind blew, I stood there. Unscathed. Even my brown uniform wasn't dusty.
I stood in the center of the blast crater, yet beneath my feet, there was a small circle of earth that remained intact. I had used atomic-level Mana Deflection—spinning the mana circuits around me at such high speed that the lightning was thrown aside like water hitting an umbrella.
"Impossible..." Marcus trembled. His sword cracked.
"My turn," I said. My eyes turned cold. The "Mob" aura I had worn all this time crumbled, replaced by a predatory aura that caused the entire arena to go suddenly silent. "You want to see real magic? Let me show you what Mana Compression is."
I raised my right hand, using only my index finger.
I pulled mana from the atmosphere, forcing it into a single point at the tip of my finger. I compressed it... denser... denser still. The mana that was usually blue turned a blinding white, then a pitch black. A sign of density that defied logic.
"One strike," I whispered.
I didn't fire it. I lunged. My speed was no longer physical enhancement magic; it was spatial manipulation. In an instant, I was in front of Marcus.
I touched the tip of my finger to the chest of his armor.
"Impact Point: Zero."
There was no big explosion. No sound of thunder.
PING.
Just a small clinking sound like breaking glass. However, the next second, Marcus's entire silver armor shattered into metallic dust. Marcus's body was hurled backward, flying over the arena boundary, over the defense trench, and slamming into the stand wall with a force that made the entire stadium vibrate.
Marcus lost consciousness instantly, his chest bruised blue despite no open wounds. I had destroyed his mana circuits internally without damaging his organs—a precision only a god of war could achieve.
Silence.
Thousands of people in the stands froze. Even the birds in the sky seemed to stop flying.
I exhaled, put my hands back in my pockets, and turned toward the royal box. I stared directly at Prince Julian, whose face was deathly pale, then shifted to Elara.
Elara von Heist no longer looked calm. She stood up from her seat. Her lips trembled slightly, and her eyes... her eyes were no longer full of hatred. There was a spark of passion, a thirst for power, and something much darker beginning to grow there.
"Efficiency..." Elara murmured softly, her voice shaking. "He doesn't use magic... he is magic itself."
I looked away, walking out of the arena.
'Crap, I overdid it,' I grumbled internally. 'I meant to just teach him a small lesson, but my instincts took over. Goodbye, plan for a quiet life in the corner of the class.'
As I passed the players' tunnel, I ran into Clarisse who came running toward me. "Alex! Are... are you okay?"
I looked at her flatly. "Of course I'm okay. You should be asking your sardine-can knight that. And one more thing, stop looking at me like that. I am not your hero."
I left her standing there, stunned. In the distance, I could feel Elara's presence watching my back from afar. The original game script wasn't just torn now; it was burnt to a crisp.
The world might consider me an "Extra," but starting today, they will learn that an angry extra is far more terrifying than a spoiled protagonist.