The Extra is a Genius!?

His vision was starting to blur.

Blood trickled down his temple, warm and sticky. His grip on Revenant Fang was weak, slippery with sweat and red. Every breath was a blade in his lungs, and the air reeked of acid, smoke, and his own burnt flesh.

Across the clearing, the serpent reared again.

It was injured. Blind in one eye. Covered in cuts and burns. But it wasn’t slowing down. If anything, it looked angrier.

Noel couldn’t even lift his left arm anymore.

’Fuck me... This isn’t working.’ novelbuddy.cσ๓

He stood, barely, knees trembling under his weight. The blade in his hand felt like it weighed a hundred kilos.

His heartbeat pounded louder than the beast’s hiss.

’If I miss one more step, if I trip once... I’m dead. That’s it. Game over.’

And then something clicked.

A pulse. Faint... but deep.

Revenant Fang... hummed.

It was like the sword had been asleep until now. But suddenly, it came alive in his grip.

Then it happened.

The world slowed.

Not literally—but his mind exploded with clarity. The pain, the chaos, the sounds—they all muted, compressed into background static. For the first time since the fight began, Noel saw everything.

The angle of the serpent’s next strike. The tension in its spine. The weight shift in its coil. The wind pattern. The flicker of ash in the air.

Everything.

A notification whispered through the edge of his awareness:

[Trait Activated – Revenant Fang: Clarity under threat]

"The user gains extreme perceptual focus during life-threatening situations. Time appears to slow as instincts sharpen and precision increases."

Noel took a single breath—deep, steady, controlled.

’Alright... You wanted a fight, didn’t you?’

His eyes sharpened. His posture straightened.

The pain didn’t vanish—but it didn’t matter anymore. Every breath was a calculation. Every twitch, a decision.

The serpent moved fast—but Noel was faster now.

He sidestepped a lunge before it even fully began, his eyes locked on the slight hitch in the beast’s coil that told him exactly where it was going to strike. Dust flew as the impact crushed the ground beside him, but he was already gone, boots sliding across scorched dirt.

He didn’t think. He didn’t flinch. He simply saw—clear, instinctive, precise.

Every opening, every shift in weight, every weakness was crystal clear. The creature was strong, but it was predictable—and right now, it was blind on one side.

Noel raised his right hand without hesitation, mana coiling at his fingertips.

"Fireball."

The spell burst to life instantly—faster, denser, more stable than ever. He didn’t throw it wildly or aim center-mass. He pivoted his foot, leaned into the motion, and flicked his wrist just enough to adjust the arc.

The fireball soared, cutting through smoke and ash—and hit the serpent directly in its remaining eye.

The effect was immediate.

A screech tore through the air as the beast reared back in agony, thrashing against the trees, its body convulsing violently. Flames clung to the ruined socket, burning deeper, feeding off the corrupted mana that bled from it.

Noel didn’t wait for an invitation.

He sprinted forward, sword drawn low, mana already building in his legs. The creature was blind, enraged, disoriented.

This was the opening.

He was going to take it.

The world remained silent in his mind—focused, cold, exact.

Noel dashed beneath the thrashing serpent, dodging blindly swinging coils with inches to spare. His senses tracked everything: the pattern of the beast’s spasms, the shifting of its weight, the exact second its head would drop again.

He ran up a slanted root and launched himself onto its back, gripping a cracked ridge of scale for balance. The serpent twisted violently, but Noel moved with it, almost calm, his knees bending, eyes locked on the back of its skull.

He raised Revenant Fang—and it pulsed again.

This time, the blade felt alive.

It didn’t vibrate with magic—it vibrated with purpose.

Noel didn’t yell. He didn’t breathe. He just drove the sword down with every ounce of weight and mana he had left.

The blade struck between two scorched scales, right above the spinal joint.

There was no resistance. It went through like the serpent had been waiting for it.

The creature jerked once. Then again. Its body convulsed—and then fell still.

Dead silence.

Noel collapsed beside the cooling corpse, half on his back, half on the blood-soaked dirt. His arms refused to move. His lungs burned. The sword remained buried in flesh, still humming softly like a heart that hadn’t realized the body was dead.

Then came the voice.

[Beast slain – Mutated Serpent (Adept Core)]

[Mana Core Experience: +10.00%]

[Current Progress: 47.32% – Novice Rank Mana Core]

Noel stared at the floating text, chest rising and falling slowly.

’Of course it was Adept-tier. Why wouldn’t it be?’

He let his head fall back against the ground and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the pain catch up.

’Next time... I bring a damn team.’

Elena reached the clearing at a sprint, only slowing when she saw the body.

The serpent lay still—collapsed in a twisted coil, blood and smoke rising from its split skull. The air was thick with burnt flesh and magic. Near its head, Noel sat slumped on the ground, his face pale, arms limp, sword still buried in the corpse.

She rushed to him.

"Noel!"

His eyes fluttered open at her voice, unfocused at first, then sharp again. He let out a ragged breath.

"You’re late," he muttered, voice hoarse but still carrying that same dry edge.

"You killed it... alone?" she asked, kneeling beside him.

Noel gave a weak shrug.

"It was ugly. Don’t ask for the details."

She started to summon healing mana, but her hands trembled. The flow was unsteady—she didn’t have the talent for this, not under pressure. He noticed.

"Stop," he said quietly. "Just listen for a second."

Elena frowned, but obeyed.

He met her gaze, and though he looked like he was about to pass out, his eyes were steady.

"Tell them you killed it."

The words hit like ice. She blinked.

"What?"

"Take the credit," he said. "Tell the nobles you finished it. You’ll get first rank, secure your place. No one needs to know otherwise."

She stared at him, shaken. "Noel, I can’t—"

"You can. And you will. I’ve seen how much this means to you. You’re not like the others. You’ve worked for everything. This puts you on top, where you belong."

"I didn’t earn it," she said, voice tight.

He gave a tired smirk.

"No one important will ask. I don’t care about the glory. I just want to go to sleep and wake up in one piece. Do you really think they’d believe the Trash Thorne could kill a monster like this?"

She hesitated. His words were selfish, honest, and heavy all at once.

The barrier shimmered as the high nobles crossed into the clearing, flanked by guards in polished armor and mages cloaked in family colors. The silence that followed their arrival was absolute. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Lord Albrecht Thorne led the group, eyes locked on the fallen serpent. His expression didn’t change, not even when he spotted Noel slumped beside the corpse. Mirelle stood at his side, arms crossed, gaze cold and calculating. The other heads of noble houses—Lestaria, De Nivaria, and others—followed close behind, some whispering among themselves at the sight before them.

A mutated serpent—dead. And only two students present to witness it.

Elena rose slowly as the group approached. She brushed the dirt from her uniform, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her voice didn’t tremble when she spoke.

"It’s over. I killed the beast."

The silence broke.

Several heads turned. A few widened eyes. Whispers spread like ripples through the group.

Albrecht’s gaze moved from her to the corpse, then to Noel, who hadn’t moved since they arrived.

"And him?" the old man asked.

"He kept it occupied long enough for me to land the final blow," Elena said, choosing each word carefully. "If he hadn’t distracted it, I wouldn’t have had the chance."

There were no cheers. No applause. Just quiet acknowledgment. A handful of mages moved to inspect the corpse, casting analysis spells over its remains.

One of them looked up. "Adept Core," he confirmed. "Corrupted. Possibly artificially enhanced."

That got their attention. Even Albrecht’s expression shifted slightly.

Mirelle clicked her tongue. "And this was allowed to reach the inner zones? I want the handlers interrogated."

Elena stood still, back straight, letting their voices fade into the background. She could still feel the warmth of Noel’s blood on her fingers.

She had lied.

But only because someone else had chosen to disappear.

The interior of the command tent was bathed in golden light from the floating orbs, each one now flickering weakly—damaged, unstable, or simply disabled. The central table was wide, made of darkwood, surrounded by nobles standing in rigid silence.

Elena stood at the head of it, her uniform torn, stained with dirt and blood, but her posture flawless. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her voice held firm despite the weight pressing down on her.

"There were no orbs in the area when the attack started," she said clearly. "The protective failsafes failed to trigger. We had no alert, no support, and no means of communication."

She paused, letting that hang in the air.

"Noel Thorne was the first to react. He sent the others away, alone, and held the beast’s attention while I regrouped. By the time I returned, it was already wounded. I managed to finish the fight using a combination of close combat and fire magic. The body confirms the damage pattern."

A murmur moved through the room.

Lord Albrecht Thorne sat at the far end, his fingers steepled, expression unreadable. He had not looked at Elena once during her report. His gaze remained fixed on the orbs.

"The serpent made it into our perimeter," he said slowly. "It was corrupted, enhanced, and left unchecked in a zone where heirs were meant to be protected."

A sharp gesture followed.

"You. I want every single Thorne operative responsible for perimeter management brought here. Now."

Two guards moved instantly.

"This was my hunt," he continued, his voice rising like steel grinding against stone. "I hosted it. Under my name. And you let this happen on my soil?"

Mirelle stood at his side, silent, her lips tight, jaw clenched. Her silence said more than any accusation.

Elena stayed still, eyes forward.

"I don’t know how the corruption spread," she added carefully. "But the serpent wasn’t acting naturally. It displayed targeted behavior, advanced tracking, and selective aggression. We suspect interference."

The orbs around them shifted, flickering again. The damaged ones showed distorted footage—blurred shapes, glitched views, static.

"Scrub every record," Albrecht ordered. "All surveillance, all exit and entry logs. I want answers before nightfall."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Elena finally allowed herself to exhale, just once. A glance to the side showed Noel’s form being carried on a stretcher by academy healers, his sword sheathed and resting against his chest like a silent oath.

No one asked him for his version of the story.

And that was exactly how he wanted it.