The Extra is a Genius!?

The closing ceremony of the Hunt should have been a celebration.

It wasn’t.

The great hall beneath the central pavilion was filled with tension instead of applause.

Only the quiet murmur of families whispering behind silk masks and polished manners. Everyone present knew the truth: the Hunt had nearly ended in tragedy.

Too many participants had been pulled from the field unconscious or critically wounded. Among them: Noel Thorne.

He wasn’t even in the room when the final results were announced.

"Elena von Lestaria, first place. Two hundred and ninety-seven points."

A ripple moved through the crowd. Even some of the elders looked up in surprise. It wasn’t just a win. It was a record.

She stood tall near the front, arms at her sides, her expression unreadable.

The announcer continued.

"Second place: Clara De Nivaria. One hundred and twelve points."

"Third: Marcus. One hundred and nine."

There was polite clapping. Nothing more.

Everyone knew they had worked as a pair—splitting their kills, covering each other’s backs, staying cautious. Effective, but it diluted their individual scores.

The rest of the list blurred together. Nobles in the seventies, eighties, and nineties. A few names that once mattered, now quietly fading into irrelevance.

But none of it really mattered.

Because the winner had slain a corrupted Adept-tier serpent... alone.

And that wasn’t something anyone could ignore.

The following morning, the sky was gray over the pavilion, as if the weather itself shared the mood of the nobles gathered beneath its canopy. The families were seated in formal rows, the heads of each house watching with carefully measured silence as Lord Albrecht Thorne stepped forward.

He stood before the assembly without armor, dressed in formal black robes trimmed with silver—a symbol not of mourning, but of accountability. His voice, when it came, was calm and precise.

"As host of this year’s Hunt of Inheritance, I offer my personal apology to the noble houses of Valor. What occurred during the sixth day was unacceptable. A breach of safety, a failure of oversight, and a violation of the trust placed in our guardianship."

There were no interruptions.

"The mutated serpent should never have reached the inner zones. The protective systems failed. And the responsibility for that failure falls upon me and my house."

Albrecht bowed his head.

It wasn’t a deep bow. But for a man like him, it was enough to silence even the harshest of critics—at least for the moment.

Some nodded in acceptance. Others stared without expression. Serina and Mirelle, standing just behind him, remained silent with their arms folded, and gaze scanning the crowd like a blade waiting to strike.

No one asked about the investigation. Not out loud. But the question hung in the air: who had allowed a corrupted Adept-tier beast into a novice-only competition?

The ceremony ended without celebration. There were no closing speeches. No awards. Only formal farewells, short exchanges between envoys, and quiet departures.

One by one, the houses left.

None of them traveled together.

Noel woke to the dull weight of his own body.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn just enough to let in a sliver of pale morning light. His sheets were stiff and clean, the smell of disinfectant clinging to the air. The soft ticking of a clock was the only sound at first—until a chair creaked.

He turned his head, slowly.

His father was seated near the window, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting on the armrests like a statue waiting to be acknowledged. There was no attendant. No healer. No comforting presence with water and warm rags.

Just Lord Albrecht Thorne.

Noel’s mouth was dry, his throat raw. He tried to sit up.

"Don’t," Albrecht said, his voice quiet but absolute.

Noel froze, muscles aching under the tension. His father didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

The silence stretched, heavy and unnatural, until finally, Albrecht stood and approached the bed.

"You’re awake."

Noel didn’t answer.

"You were unconscious for nearly two days. The healers didn’t think you’d last the night."

Still, Noel said nothing.

His father studied him, not like a worried parent—but like a general assessing a soldier.

"I dismissed the staff," Albrecht continued. "I wanted to speak to you directly."

The words didn’t sound like a gesture of care. They sounded like an interrogation.

And Noel knew better than to mistake them for anything else.

Noel shifted his weight slowly, adjusting his position against the headboard. His body still felt like it had been chewed and spit back out, but that wasn’t what bothered him.

It was the silence.

Albrecht hadn’t spoken since telling him to stay still. He hadn’t asked how Noel felt. He hadn’t asked what happened.

He was just watching.

Eventually, Noel spoke.

"You dismissed the staff just to sit here and watch me breathe?"

His father didn’t answer.

Noel looked away, then back.

"You weren’t at the infirmary after the Banquet. You didn’t even show up when I collapsed during mana training in the winter. But now you’re here. Alone." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

He let the words hang, testing the air.

Albrecht remained still.

Noel sighed.

"Fine. You’re not here for comfort. You’re here for information."

Still no reaction.

"I don’t have proof," Noel said slowly, "but... something was off with Kael and Damon before the serpent showed up."

That got the faintest flicker from Albrecht’s eyes.

"They came to me before the final phase of the hunt. Kael actually smiled. Asked how I was enjoying the event. Damon stood next to him, arms crossed, quiet. They never talk to me unless it’s to insult me, and suddenly they’re being polite?"

He frowned, remembering the discomfort in his gut, the unease he’d tried to dismiss.

"They weren’t interested in me. They were checking something. Maybe trying to confirm where I’d be. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when that corrupted beast hit the zone... it all lined up."

Noel met his father’s gaze.

"They knew."

The room fell silent again. The only sound was the faint ticking of the antique clock on the far wall.

"I see," Albrecht said finally.

"I already confirmed it," he added a moment later. "They tampered with the orb network, altered the patrol paths. They redirected the beast toward you—and it looks like they gave it something, though we still don’t know what."

Noel’s hands tensed over the sheets.

"What happened to them?"

"They’ve been sent to Elarith. Six months in the military academy there. No title, no staff. They’ll return if they survive."

Noel nodded once.

"Why didn’t you just tell me that?"

Albrecht turned to the door.

"I needed to know if you’d say it. On your own."

Albrecht reached the door but paused with his hand resting on the handle. He didn’t look back when he spoke.

"Did you kill it?"

The question landed like a stone dropped into deep water.

Noel blinked.

His father’s tone hadn’t changed, but the atmosphere in the room had. The air turned thicker, heavier. A slow pressure began to rise, coiling through the space like invisible smoke. It wasn’t mana—not exactly. It was intent. Power restrained by will, leaking out like a warning.

Noel swallowed.

He knew this presence. He’d felt it only a few times in his life, and always at a distance. The kind of weight that bent the knees of seasoned knights, the kind that made nobles forget their names.

It was the real Lord Albrecht.

And he was waiting.

Noel tried to hold his ground, to breathe evenly, but his chest tightened and his fingers dug into the sheets.

He didn’t know if it was a trap. He didn’t know what the right answer was. Maybe there wasn’t one.

So he chose the one that wouldn’t get him crushed.

"Yes," he said.

The pressure vanished.

Albrecht opened the door without another word.

"Rest," he said over his shoulder. "You’ll return to the academy when you’re ready."

Then he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Noel stayed frozen in place, only now realizing how hard he’d been gripping the sheets.

The door clicked shut.

Noel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His fingers slowly unclenched from the bedsheets, leaving behind faint creases from how hard he’d gripped them.

He was alone again.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the door. The air felt lighter now, but not comfortable—just less dangerous. That alone was a relief.

After everything—after the serpent, the lies, the family games—his body was finally allowed to collapse. He sank into the pillows and tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Then, almost out of habit, he muttered the word.

"Status."

The familiar chime echoed in his mind, sharp and clear. A glowing blue panel blinked into view above his vision.

[Mana Core Progress Update]

Current Core: Novice

Progress: 47.32%

[New System Reward Available]

Claim Reward – [Corrupted Beast Slayer + Saved the nobles]

→ Adept-class foe defeated under extreme conditions. Reward ready for collection.

Noel stared at the numbers, then let out a dry laugh. It came out rough and low, but genuine.

"Not bad..."

He hadn’t even been in the academy for a full month, and now he had this. Almost halfway through the Novice Core. And more importantly, proof—he wasn’t some background character fumbling through another life. He was starting to matter.

But still... he didn’t touch the reward prompt.

He closed the panel with a flick of thought and leaned back into the mattress. He’d earned one week of rest before the academy reopened—and he intended to take it.